Reader's Club

Home Category

U.S.A_ - John Dos Passos [352]

By Root 31538 0

--busboy harveststiff hogcal er boyscout champeen

cornshucker of Western Kansas bel hop at the United States Hotel at Saratoga Springs office boy cal boy fruiter telephone lineman longshoreman lumberjack

plumber's helper,

worked for an exterminating company in Union

City, fil ed pipes in an opium joint in Trenton, N. J. Y.M.C.A. secretary, express agent, truckdriver,

fordmechanic, sold books in Denver Colorado: Madam

would you be wil ing to help a young man work his way through col ege?

-469-President Harding, with a reverence seemingly more sig-nificant because of his high temporal station, concluded his. speech:

We are met today to pay the impersonal tribute;

the name of him whose body lies before us took flight with his imperishable soul. . . as a typical soldier of this representative democracy he fought and died believing in the, indisputable justice of his country's cause. . .

by raising his right hand and asking the thousands within the sound of his voice to join in the prayer:

Our Father which art in heaven hal owed be thy

name. . .

Naked he went into the army;

they weighed you, measured you, looked for flat

feet, squeezed your penis to see if you had clap, looked up your anus to see if you had piles, counted your teeth, made you cough, listened to your heart and lungs, made you read the letters on the card, charted your urine and your intel igence, gave you a service record for a future (imperish-able soul) and an identification tag stamped with your serial

number to hang around your neck, issued O D regula-tion equipment, a condiment can and a copy of the articles of war.

Atten'SHUN suck in your gut you c -----r wipe

that smile off your face eyes right wattja tink dis is a choirch-social? For-war-D'ARCH. Jolhn Doe

and Richard Roe and other person or persons un-known dril ed hiked, manual of arms, ate slum, learned

-470-to salute, to soldier, to loaf in the latrines, forbidden to smoke on deck, overseas guard duty, forty men and

eight horses, shortarm inspection and the ping of shrap-nel and the shril bul ets combing the air and the sore-head woodpeckers the machineguns mud cooties gas-masks and the itch. Say feller tell me how I can get back to my outfit. John Doe had a head for twentyodd years intensely the nerves of the

eyes the ears the palate the tongue the fingers the toes the armpits, the nerves warmfeeling under the skin

charged the coiled brain with hurt sweet warm cold

mine must dont sayings print headlines:

Thou shalt not the multiplication table long di-vision, Now is the time for al good men knocks but once at a young man's door, It's a great life if Ish gebibbel, The first five years'l be the Safety First, Suppose a hun tried to rape your my country right or wrong, Catch 'em young, What he dont know wont

treat 'em rough, Tel 'em nothin, He got what was

coming to him he got his, This is a white man's coun-try, Kick the bucket, Gone west, If you dont like it you can croaked him

Say buddy cant you tell me how I can get back to my outfit?

Cant help jumpin when them things go off, give

me the trots them things do. I lost my identification tag swimmin in the Marne, roughhousin with a guy while

we was waitin to be deloused, in bed with a girl named Jeanne (Love moving picture wet French postcard

dream began with saltpeter in the coffee and ended at the propho station); -- Say soldier for chrissake cant you tell me how I can get back to my outfit?

-471-John Doe's

heart pumped blood:

alive thudding silence of blood in your ears

down in the clearing in the. Oregon forest where the punkins were punkincolor pouring into the blood

through the eyes and the fal colored trees and the

bronze hoopers were hopping through the dry grass,

where tiny striped snails hung on the underside of the blades and the flies hummed, wasps droned, bumblebees buzzed, and the woods smelt of wine and mushrooms and apples, homey smel of fal pouring into the blood, and I dropped the tin hat and the sweaty pack and

lay flat with the dogday sun licking my throat and

adamsapple and the tight skin over the breastbone.

Return Main Page Previous Page Next Page

®Reader's Club