The Naked and the Dead - Norman Mailer [209]
"Jus' keep your eyes open," Croft said. "Most of the men in the platoon walk around like a bunch of goddam sheep lookin' at the ground."
Red sighed to himself. Stanley's ambition made him contemptuous, but there was an uneasy basis to his scorn which he partially understood. He was the least bit envious. The contradiction ended by depressing him. Aaah, he thought, every man jack eats his heart out, and what does it get him? He could see Stanley rising higher and higher in the months to come, and yet he would never be happy. Any of us'll be lucky if we don't get a bullet in our gut. He felt his skin tightening across his back, and despite himself he turned around to look at the bare metal wall of the bow ramp. Since the day when he had lain helpless on the ground waiting for the Japanese soldier to kill him he had been feeling a recurring anxiety. Often in the night he would awaken with a start, and turn around in his blankets, trembling unreasonably.
What the hell do I want to be a noncom for? he asked himself. You get a guy killed in your squad and you never stop thinking about it. I don't want to take no orders from nobody, and I don't want nobody to give 'em to me. He looked at Hearn standing in the rear of the boat, and felt a dull anger working in his throat. The goddam officers. Red snorted. A bunch of college kids who think it's like going to a football game. That bastard is glad to be going out on this. Deep within him a passionate hatred was brewing for everyone in the Army who endangered his life. What the hell is it to the General if we get knocked off? Just an experiment that got fugged-up. Guinea pigs.
Stanley amused him, roused his irony. His emotions finally boiled into speech. "Hey, Stanley, you think they'll give you a Silver Star?"
Stanley looked at him, tensing instantly. "Fug you, Red."
"Just wait, sonny," Red said. He guffawed loudly and turned to Gallagher. "They'll give him the Purple Ass-hole."
"Listen, Red," Stanley said, trying to edge some menace into his voice. He knew that Croft was watching him.
"Aaah," Red snorted. He didn't want to fight at all. His back, even when it did not ache, left him weak and lethargic. He realized abruptly that he and Stanley had changed in the few months they had been on Anopopei; Stanley looked fatter and sleeker, more self-assured. He was still growing. Red felt the tired leanness of his own body. Because of all this, because of his doubt, his pride made him go on. "You're biting off more than you can take, Stanley."
"What's the matter, you ganging up with Gallagher?"
Gallagher was frightened again, unwilling to be involved. In the past weeks he had drawn in upon himself, become passive. His occasional bursts of rage left him apathetic. Yet he could not withdraw now; Red was one of his best buddies. "Red don't need to gang up with me," he muttered.
"You guys think you're pretty tough 'cause you been around a little longer than me."
"Maybe," Gallagher said.
Stanley knew he had to tell Red off if he was to hold Croft's respect. But he felt incapable of it. Red's taunt about combat had lacerated his confidence again; abruptly he was forced to face the knowledge that he was terrified at the thought of it. He took a deep breath. "This ain't the time, Red, but wait'll we get back."
"Yeah, send me a letter."
Stanley's mouth tightened but he could think of no answer. He looked at Croft, whose face was impassive. "I just wish you guys were in my squad," he said to Red and Gallagher. They guffawed at this.
Croft was annoyed. He had wavered between his desire to see a fight and his knowledge that it would be a bad thing for the platoon. Now he was contemptuous of Stanley; a noncom had to know how to keep a man in his place, and it had been bungled. Croft hawked a little spittle over the side wall of the boat. "What's the matter, everybody worked up already?" he said coldly. Aimless talk irritated him.
They were all quiet again. The tension between them had collapsed like a piece of moist paper shredding of its own weight. All of them except Croft were secretly relieved. But the patrol to come draped them in a shroud of gloom. Each retreated into silence and his private fears. Like an augury, the night was coming closer.