From Here to Eternity_ The Restored Edit - Jones, James [457]
He could see by their faces, when they came in, that it had not worked with Col Delbert at Schofield.
“Well,” Lt Ross said. He threw his helmet viciously at the bare cot in the corner. A puff-cloud of dust rose from the cot. “All I can say is its a great fucking war,” Lt Ross said bitterly, and leaned his carbine carefully against the desk. Then he sat down and rubbed a grimy hand over his dusty face.
“The traffic’s still terrific, even this late at night. I bet it took us four hours to get down here.”
Pete Karelsen, his carbine slung on his shoulder, stepped forward and came to attention in that big-butted-like-a-round-bottomed-doll way of his and made his wide-swinging, sweeping old timer’s salute.
“Sir, Sgt Karelsen wishes to thank the Company Commander for what he has done.”
“I didnt do anything,” Lt Ross said. “All I did was to get my ass on the Great White Father’s list.”
“Sir, the Company Commander tried. Thats what counts.”
“No, its not what counts either!” Lt Ross cried violently. “The only thing that counts”— He managed to bring his voice back down to normal. “—in this world is results. I failed,” he said, “utterly and miserably.”
“Sir, the Company Commander did everything he could,” Pete said.
“For Christ’s sake, Sgt Karelsen!” Lt Ross said, “quit talking to me in the third person like I was somebody else! At ease. Rest. Relax. You dont have to be formal with me.”
Pete moved his foot twelve inches to the left and clasped his hands behind his back. “Sir, I wish the Company Commander to know that I appreciate everything he did,” Pete said emotionlessly, his face still rock-hard like a soldier at attention. “I will never forget it, Sir.”
Lt Ross looked at him a moment, and then rubbed his hand over his face again. “You might as well sleep here the next couple of days, Sgt Karelsen,” he said. “Till they call you in. You might as well be comfortable. Tell Sgt Malleaux I said give you a cot, and set it up in the Headquarters tent. The Weapons Platoon may as well start getting along without you right now.”
“Yes, Sir,” Pete said. “Thank you, Sir.” He came back to attention slowly and with style, bending forward a little bit from the waist, and made that slow wide-sweeping snap of a salute again. It was a beautiful salute.
“Sir, if the Company Commander will excuse the Sergeant, the Sergeant will retire,” Pete said.
“Go ahead,” Lt Ross said.
Pete did a slow, precise, perfect aboutface and started off for the door at a solid 120 per.
“Whats that stuff?” Lt Ross said, pointing at the little pile of effects.
“Wait a minute, Pete,” Warden said from his chair. “You’ll want to hear this, too.” He separated the effects and spread them out and told them about Prewitt.
“Well,” Lt Ross said. “Thats fine. Thats wonderful. That makes it a grand slam. We’re batting a thousand.”
“When did it happen, Milt?” Pete said from the door, his voice genuinely human for the first time. There was a kind of a heartsick note in it that made a dull anger flare up in Warden.
“About eight o’clock,” he said impassively.
He told them the story just as the MP Sgt had related it to him. Then, for Lt Ross’s benefit, he went back and sketched in the rest of it from the beginning when Prewitt quit the Bugle Corps.
He left out a few things. For instance, he did not say anything about the late S/Sgt Fatso Judson. And he did not mention how with Baldy Dhom’s initial shove he had covered up for him on the Morning Report for a week or so. Also, he did not mention Lorene of the New Congress.
“Well,” Lt Ross said when he finished. “That boy had a pretty good batting average himself. He managed to violate just about every AW in the book. He managed to just about ruin the reputation of my organization; and I dont even remember ever having seen the man, to recognize him.”
“Sir,” Pete said from the door, “if the Company Commander will excuse me now, I will leave. I can be of no further use to the Company Commander and 1st/Sgt