From Here to Eternity_ The Restored Edit - Jones, James [435]
“Wheres my pants?” he said, getting up in his shorts. A violent throb passed through his head like a concussion, and he headed across the room toward them and the bar in the top of the radio.
“They’re right there on the chair,” Alma said. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“No, not those. My uniform pants,” he said, opening the bar over their heads and pouring a stiff shot of scotch into one of the long-stemmed cocktail glasses. “I’ve got a uniform around here someplace. Where is it?”
He downed the shot, shuddering; but he could tell it was going to help.
“What are you going to do!” Alma demanded, inarticulately wildly. “What are you doing!”
“Going to put enough liquor in me so I can see past this hangover and then get the hell back to the Post. What the hell do you think?” he said, pouring another one and downing it.
“There is no denying that our Navy has suffered a great defeat,” the radio said. “Perhaps the greatest defeat in its history. It would . . .”
“But you cant do that!” Alma said frantically. “You cant go back!”
“Why the hell cant I? You nuts?”
“. . . but through it all,” the radio said, “through the hours of darkness and ignoble defeat, there remains a great shining light that shall forever be an example to all Americans: . . .”
“Because they’re still looking for you!” Alma said hysterically. “For a murder rap! You dont think they’ll dismiss a murder rap against you! Even on account of two wars.”
He had already poured the third drink, and his head was clearing some. The warm electric glow of the nerve-ends was beginning to dry out the sodden cells. He went on and downed the drink anyway.
“I forgotten all about that,” he said.
“. . . and that is the courage and heroism of our fighting men,” the radio said, “who, in the face of death and overwhelming odds, caught by surprise and without adequate equipage, stuck to their guns and fought back valiantly with all the greatness of spirit that has always been the hallmark of the United States Army and Navy.”
“Is he talking about the US Army and Navy?” Georgette grinned to nobody in particular.
“Well, you better remember it,” Alma said, a little more calmly. “If you go back now, they’ll only throw you in the Stockade, and then try you for murder. War or no war. That wont be helping to win the war any.”
Still holding the bottle in one hand and the glass in the other, he sat down on the footstool between them in front of the radio, looking like he had been rabbit-punched by a judo man.
“I forgotten all about that,” he said dully. “Clean forgotten all about it.”
“Well, you better think about it,” Alma said.
“By their quiet heroism under fire,” the radio said, “their devotion to duty no matter how trivial, and their silent uncomplaining bravery as they lie wounded and dying—even now, as I speak these words to you—in the hospitals and dressing stations, they are setting an example of faith and service and stoic heroism that we civilians here in Hawaii who have witnessed it will remember for a long long time. They are creating a legend, these men, these boys—and most of them are just that: boys—a legend of Democracy that will for long and long remain unequalled and unsurpassed, and that will strike fear into the hearts of the enemies of freedom.”
“By God!” Georgette exclaimed suddenly and excitedly, “the yellow little bastards’ll learn they cant do that to us and get by with