The Naked and the Dead - Norman Mailer [305]
Simple enough instructions, but things were not turning out that way. An hour after the General's plane had taken off, Dalleson received a bewildering patrol report. A squad from E Company had patrolled a thousand yards into the jungle beyond their latest positions and found a Japanese bivouac deserted. Unless the co-ordinates they reported were completely incorrect, that bivouac should have been nearly in the rear of the Toyaku Line.
At first Dalleson didn't believe the report. There was the memory of Sergeant Lanning and the false reports he had given, the indications that any number of squad and platoon leaders were not fulfilling their missions. But still it seemed unlikely. If a man was going to falsify a report, he was more likely to say he had encountered resistance and turned back.
The Major scratched his nose. It was eleven o'clock and the morning sun had been baking long enough on the operations tent to make the air inside unbearably hot, leavened with the dry unpleasant smell of heated canvas. The Major was sweating, and the portion he could see of the bivouac clearing through the furled side walls of the tent shimmered in the heat and blared back in his eyes. He was thirsty and debated emptily for a few minutes whether to send one of the enlisted clerks to officers' mess for an iced beer from the refrigerator. But it seemed too much trouble. This was the kind of day when he would have preferred to do nothing except sit before his desk and wait for reports to be forwarded to him. A few feet away two officers were discussing the possibility of getting away in a jeep for the afternoon to go swimming on the beach. The Major burped. His stomach was bothering him, as it did on all particularly hot days, and he fanned himself slowly, vaguely irritable.
"There's a rumor, utterly unfounded, of course," one of the lieutenants drawled, "that we're getting some Red Cross girls after the campaign."
"We'll have to fix up a part of the beach, have lockers built. It might end up quite nicely, you know."
"We'll be moving out again. Infantry always gets the worst of it." That lieutenant lit a cigarette. "But, God, I wish the campaign was over."
"What for? We'll just have to write the history when it is. That's always the worst time."
Dalleson sighed again. Their talk about the end of the campaign depressed him. What was he going to do about that patrol report? He felt a gentle tug at his bowels. It would not be unpleasant sitting here, contemplating going to the latrine, if he had nothing to worry about. In the distance an artillery battery had fired, sending a moody echo through the sultry morning air. The Major picked up the field telephone on his desk and cranked it twice. "Give me Potential Red Easy," he grunted at the operator.
He asked for the Commanding Officer of E Company. "Listen, Windmill, this is Lanyard," he said. He was using the code names.
"What do you want, Lanyard?"
"I got a patrol report this morning from you. Number 318, you know the one I mean?"
"Yes."
"Is the goddam thing true? And let's have it, Windmill. If one of your boys made it up and you cover for him, I'll have your ass over a barrel."
"No, it's true. I checked on it myself, I talked to the squad leader. He swears he didn't goof-off."
"All right, I'm going to proceed on the --" the Major looked for the word he had heard so often -- "on the assumption that it's okay. And Heaven help ya if it isn't."
The Major mopped his face again. Why did the General have to be away on this of all days? He had a subdued resentment that Cummings had not foreseen it. He should get something in motion right away but he was confused. Instead, he decided to go to the latrine.
Sitting on the boards, feeling the sun bake sentiently on his exposed belly, the Major tried to think. But other things distracted him. The latrine stench was extremely powerful on this hot morning and he noticed it, made a decision to have a detail dig a new officers' latrine that afternoon. His red face sweated profusely in the open sun. This time they would have a canopy built over it. He stared morosely at the bamboo enclosure.