From Here to Eternity_ The Restored Edit - Jones, James [474]
There was an unwritten law that a commander did not go on pass until his men were served, and since they could not go themselves, the noncom-commanders (who unlike officers were not above conniving with enlisted men) gleaned what they could and there was a great exchanging of handclasps, currency, souvenirs, and not a few of the almost-priceless too-swiftly-dwindling whiskey bottles changed hands on the eve of January 6th.
Honor forbade Warden and Stark to put their own names down on their pass lists, but Warden saw to it that they both got their passes anyway. He simply filled out two extra pass forms beyond the quota and had Lt Ross sign them. Nobody in the Company disputed his breach of etiquette, least of all Lt Ross. Lt Ross knew a good thing, once it had been pointed out to him. From the day he turned down his commission Warden had had G Company wrapped and tied and stamped with the Indian sign the way he used to kid himself he had it under Holmes, but hadnt.
Stark had a pint bottle he had milked out of the pass situation. They finished that off on the way in to town. They made their first stop at Charlie Chan’s Blue Chancre. The Blue Chancre was not as crowded as the better bars. There was no line outside on the sidewalk. At the Blue Chancre people only stood three deep at the bar. They had to drink six drinks standing in the press before they could get stools at the bar and start drinking in earnest.
“Ahhh,” Stark sighed, as they slid onto the stools. “My feet was made for hikin, not for standin up in no bars. Even a Fort Bliss payday night in Juarez aint this bad.”
“Herro, Walden! Herro, Stalk!” Charlie beamed. “Longtime no see. Him wondelful day, eh?”
“Yeah,” Warden said. “Fine day.”
“Such a fine day,” Stark said serenely, “that I feel like getting good and lousy drunk and beatin some loudmouth clean to death.”
“Stark, you’re a Texan,” Warden said. “Texans love their buddies, the State of Texas, and their mother. And they hate niggers, and Jews, and strangers, and immoral women—unless they happen to be screwing them.”
“Looks like we’re early,” Stark said. “Or else G Compny has dissolved its alliance with the Blue Chancre Bar & Grille.”
“I can see through you like glass,” Warden said. “Hey, Rose!”
As a matter of fact, they were early; they had left the CP at five minutes after nine, instead of ten o’clock with the rest of them. The only familiar face in the place was Rose’s boy friend the S/Sgt of Artillery, sitting in the same back booth as if he’d never left it, this time with three buddies.
“Get dlunk,” Charlie beamed. “Evelybody get dlunk. Fine day. This one on me, boys.” He nodded at them beaming sweatily and moved away down the bar he was trying to handle alone.
“Fine fella,” Stark said.
“Yeah. Great guy,” Warden said.
“You suppose he can afford to give away a drink?”
“No. I doubt it.”
“He needs more help behind the bar,” Stark said.
“He needs more help out in front, too,” Warden said, watching Rose, who although she had another girl to help her, still was not doing much better than Charlie because she was trying to handle her orders and sit with her S/Sgt at the same time.
“I said, hey, Rose!” Warden bellowed.
She was sitting in the Artillery booth, but she came over. Her swarthy wanton little face, which was Portagee but was betrayed as a racial misalliance by the faintly slanted eyes, was a little irritated though.
“What you want, Warden?”
“Whats your boy friend’s name?”
She eyed him sullenly. “What you want to know for? Is none of your business.”
Warden ogled her lush breasts openly. Rose followed his gaze down and then raised her eyes angrily to stare into his