The Naked and the Dead - Norman Mailer [184]
He went over to Cummings's tent, gave it to him, and stood by uncomfortably, waiting for comments. Cummings studied it carefully, looking up from time to time to voice a criticism. "I see you've got four different withdrawal orders, and four assembly areas."
"Yes, sir."
"I don't think that'll be necessary, Major. We'll pick one assembly point back of Second Battalion, and whichever outfit we use for the invasion will go there. It won't be more than a five-mile march at the very most, no matter which one we take."
"Yes, sir." Dalleson busied himself scribbling notes on a little pad.
"I think you'd better allow 108 minutes instead of 104 for the trip with the LCMs."
"Yes, sir."
And so on. Cummings gave his objections, and Dalleson continued to mark them in his note-pad. Cummings watched him with a little contempt. Dalleson's got a mind like a switchboard, he told himself. If your plug will fit one of his mental holes, he can furnish the necessary answer, but otherwise he's lost.
Cummings sighed, lit a cigarette. "We've got to co-ordinate the staff work on this more thoroughly. Will you tell Hobart and Conn I'll want them with you in the morning first thing?"
"Yes, sir," Dalleson rumbled.
The General scratched his upper lip. That would have been Hearn's job if he were still orderly. Cummings had been doing without an aide. He exhaled his cigarette. "By the way, Major," Cummings asked. "How's Hearn getting along with you?" Cummings yawned casually, but he was tense. With Hearn out of his daily view, certain regrets, certain urges, were tempting him once more. But he repressed them. What a touchy business that thing with Hearn could have been, Cummings thought. Hearn couldn't come back. That was out.
Dalleson knitted his heavy forehead. "Hearn's all right, sir. He's got too goddam much lip, but I can knock that out of him."
Thinking about it now, Cummings was a little disappointed. In the few times he had caught a glimpse of Hearn in officers' mess, his face had been as expressionless, as sullen as ever. It was not likely that Hearn would ever show what he was thinking, but still. . . The punishment had lost its effect, become submerged already in the daily routine of small events. The General felt an urge to. . . to extend the humiliation he had inflicted upon Hearn. The picture of their last conversation was not so deeply satisfying to him now. Somehow he had let Hearn off too easy.
"I've been thinking of transferring him again," Cummings said quietly. "How would you feel about it?"
Dalleson was confused. He had no objections to losing Hearn, it appealed to him, but he was puzzled by the General's attitude. Cummings had never told him anything about Hearn, and Dalleson still assumed Hearn was one of the General's favorites. He couldn't understand the motive behind Cummings's question. "I don't feel very much about it one way or another, sir," he said at last.
"Well, it's worth bearing in mind. I have my doubts that Hearn can make a good staff man." If Dalleson were indifferent to Hearn, then it meant little keeping him there.
"He's about average," Dalleson said carefully.
"What about a line outfit?" Cummings said casually. "Do you have any ideas about where we might put him?"
This confused Dalleson more. It was very odd for a general officer to be at all concerned with where a lieutenant was sent. "Well, sir, Baker Company of the 458th is short an officer, 'cause the patrol reports of one of their platoons is always signed by a sergeant, and then there's F Company needs two officers, and I think Charley Company of the 459th needs an officer."
None of this appealed particularly to Cummings. "Is there anyone else?"
"There's the I and R platoon of headquarters company here, but they don't really need an officer."
"Why?"
"Their platoon sergeant's one of the best men in the 458th, sir. I've been meaning to talk to you about him, I was thinking after the campaign he oughta be made an officer. Croft is his name. He's a good man."
Cummings considered what Dalleson would call a good soldier. The man's a virtual illiterate probably, he thought, with a lot of common sense and no nerves at all. He fingered his mouth again. In I and R he could still keep an eye on Hearn. "Well, I'll think about it. There's no hurry," he said to Dalleson.