The Naked and the Dead - Norman Mailer [90]
The Jap was standing several yards away with his hands in the air. He had dropped the bayonet, and it lay at his feet. Croft walked over and kicked it away.
Red looked at the Japanese soldier, and for an instant their eyes met. Both men looked away, as if they had each been caught in something shameful. Red realized suddenly how weak he felt.
Yet even now he could not admit any weakness to Croft. "What took you guys so goddam long?" he asked.
"Got down as fast as we could," Croft said.
Gallagher spoke up abruptly. His face was white and his mouth trembled. "I was gonna shoot the mother-fugger but you were in the way."
Croft laughed quietly, and then said, "Ah guess we frightened him more than you, Red. He damn sure stopped running after you when he saw us."
Red found himself shuddering again. He felt a grudged admiration for Croft, and with it a great deal of resentment at being in his debt. For a second or two he tried to find some way to thank him, but he could not utter the words.
"I guess we might as well head back," Red said. Croft's expression seemed to change. A glint of excitement formed in his eyes. "Why don't you head on back, Red?" he suggested. "Gallagher and me'll follow you in a couple of minutes."
Red forced himself to say, "Want me to take the Jap?" There was nothing he wanted less. He found himself still unable to look at the soldier.
"No," Croft said. "Gallagher and me'll take care of him."
Red realized there was something odd about Croft at this moment. "I can take him okay," he said.
"No, we'll take care of him."
Red looked once at the bodies lying limp in the green draw. Already a few insects were buzzing over the corpse who had lost his face. Everything that had happened to him seemed unreal again. He looked at the soldier from whom he had fled, and already his face seemed anonymous and small. A part of him wondered why he had not been able to meet his eyes. Jesus, I feel pooped, he thought. His legs quivered a little as he picked up his tommy gun. He felt too tired to say anything more. "Okay, see you up on the hill," he muttered.
For some obscure reason, he knew he should not leave, and as he walked away down the trail he felt again the curious shame and guilt the Japanese soldier had caused him. That Croft's a bastard, he told himself. Red felt leaden, in fever.
When he had gone, Croft sat down on the ground and lit a cigarette. He smoked intently without saying anything. Gallagher sat beside him, looking at the prisoner. "Let's get rid of him and get back," he blurted suddenly.
"Hold your water," Croft told him softly.
"What's the use of torturin' the poor bastard?" Gallagher asked.
"He ain't complainin'," Croft said.
But then, as if he had understood them, the prisoner crumpled suddenly to his knees and began to sob in a high-pitched voice. Every few seconds he would turn to them, and extend his hands with pleading motions, and then he would beat his arms on the ground as if he despaired of making them understand. Out of the spate of words, Gallagher could distinguish something that sounded like "kood-sigh, kood-sigh."
Gallagher was a little hysterical from the abruptness with which the combat had begun and ended. His momentary compassion for the prisoner lapsed and was replaced by an intense irritation. "Let's cut out that 'kood-sigh' shit," he roared at the Jap.
The soldier was silent for a moment, and then began to plead again. His voice had a desperate urgency which rasped Gallagher's senses. "You look like a fuggin Yid with all that handwaving," he shouted.
"Let's keep it down," Croft said.
The soldier approached them, and Gallagher looked uncomfortably into his black pleading eyes. A powerful fishy stench arose from his clothing. "They sure can stink," Gallagher said.
Croft kept staring at the Jap. An emotion was obviously working through his mind, for the lump of cartilage under his ear kept pulsing. Croft actually was not thinking at all; he was bothered by an intense sense of incompletion. He was still expecting the burst that Red's gun had never fired. Even more than Red, he had been anticipating the quick lurching spasms of the body when the bullets would crash into it, and now he felt an intense dissatisfaction.