The Naked and the Dead - Norman Mailer [175]
Red was uncomfortable. For weeks his kidneys had been growing more painful, and that morning on the road he had strained himself badly in lifting a pick. A severe pain had seized him at the top of his swing, and he had ground his teeth, his fingers trembling. After a minute or so he had been forced to quit, and his back had throbbed for the rest of the morning with a dull constant ache. When the trucks had come, he had hoisted himself with great difficulty over the tail gate. "You're gettin' old, Red," Wyman had piped.
"Yeah." The jarring of the truck over the bumps had aggravated his pain, and he had been silent. The artillery was firing constantly and the men talked about an attack supposed to start soon. They're gonna be sendin' us out again, Red had thought, I better get fixed up. For a moment he had allowed himself to think, Maybe the hospital, and then he had repressed the thought with disgust. I never run out on anything, and I won't now. But he had kept looking uneasily over his shoulder. I ain't over that week yet, he had told himself.
"They treat you pretty fair, huh?" Red asked Minetta again.
Minetta set down his coffee, looked at Red warily. "Yeah, okay."
Red lit a cigarette, and then hoisted himself awkwardly to his feet. As he washed his mess gear in the hot water cans he debated whether to go on sick call. It seemed shameful to him somehow.
He compromised at last by stopping off at Wilson's tent. "Look, boy, I think I'm gonna go on sick call. You wanta come along?"
"Ah don' know. Never did know a doctor did a man any good."
"I thought you were sick."
"Ah am. Ah'll tell ya, Red, mah insides are shot plumb to hell. Ah cain't even take a leak any more without it burnin'."
"You need some monkey glands."
Wilson giggled. "Yeah, somepin the matter with me."
"What the hell, we might as well go," Red suggested.
"Aw, listen, Red, if they cain't see it, you ain't got it. All those sonsofbitches know is to give ya a short-arm or an asp'rin. Besides Ah hate to goof-off on the road. Ah may be a sonofabitch some ways but no man can say Ah don' do mah share of the work."
Red lit a cigarette, closing his eyes and suppressing a grimace as his back knotted suddenly. When the spasm had passed he muttered, "Come on, we rate a day off."
Wilson sighed. "Awright, but Ah feel a little low about it."
They walked over to the orderly room tent, and gave their names to the company clerk. Then they walked across the bivouac to the regimental-aid tent. Some men were standing around inside, waiting to be examined. There were two cots at one end of the tent and a half dozen men were sitting on them, and painting the fungus sores on their bare feet with a red antiseptic. An enlisted man was examining the men.
"It's a slow goddam line," Wilson complained.
"All lines are slow," Red said. "They got everything down to a system. Wait in line, wait in line, I tell you they ain't anything worth doing because of the lines."
"Ah suspec' when we get back we'll be waitin' in line for a woman."
They talked idly as the line moved forward. When Red reached the medic, he was tongue-tied for an instant. He remembered the old migrants, their limbs warped by rheumatism and arthritis and syphilis. Their eyes had become vacant, and they were usually drunk. Once they had snuffled up to him, and begged for a pill.
Now it was reversed, and for a second he could not speak. The medic was looking with boredom at him.
"It's my back," Red muttered in embarrassment at last.
"Well, take off your shirt, I can't see through your clothing," the medic snapped.
This broke the spell for Red. "If I took it off you wouldn't know any more," he flared. "It's my kidneys."
The medic sighed. "You guys can figure out more ways. Go over there to the doctor." Red noticed a shorter line, and walked over to it without answering. He was tense with anger. I don't have to take that crap, he told himself.
Wilson joined him in a moment. "They don' know nothin'. Jus' shuffle ya from man to man."
Red was about to be examined when an officer walked into the tent and greeted the doctor. "Come on over," the doctor called to him. They talked for a few minutes as Red listened. "I picked up a head cold," the officer said. "It's this hellish climate. Can you give me something to snap out of it, and I don't want any of your bloody aspirin." The doctor laughed. "I've got something for you, Ed; we got a little of it in the last shipment. Not nearly enough to go around, but you're welcome to it."