Bell for Adano, A - John Hersey [53]
His Lordship was getting a wee bit bored. He dipped more and more frequently into his snuffbox and looked out the window. “Fine show, fine show,” he said. “Anything bad in this town?”
“Yes, there is, Lord,” the Major said. “One thing.”
“I wish all of our towns had just one thing wrong, Joppolo.”
“Well, this isn’t exactly bad, Lord, and maybe it’ll sound a little silly to you.”
“My job,” said Lord Runcin, taking snuff grandly, “is to make sense out of silly things. What is it, Joppolo?” “Well sir, this town needs a bell.”
“A bell? Why, Major, I heard such a jangling of bells at eight o’clock this morning, you might have thought it was Christmas day.”
“Yes, but this is a special bell, Lord.”
“I didn’t know they had any special bells except in Hell.”
“This one was seven hundred years old. It was just about the most important thing in the town, to hear these people talk. Mussolini took it away...” And Major Joppolo told how the bell had been crated up and shipped away to make gun barrels, and how the people had come to him about it, and how he had tried to track it, and had found that it was almost certainly melted down, and at any rate was in unoccupied territory.
Lord Runcin’s colonial attitude cropped up. “Surely,” he said, “these people can get along with the bells they have. We can’t afford to be too sentimental, you know, Joppolo. Can’t afford to let these people be too happy, you know. Can’t afford to let discipline get too loose.”
“Lord, I can’t see that happiness and discipline don’t go together.”
“Young man,” said His Lordship, taking a sniff for emphasis, “I think I’ve had a little more experience in these things than you have.”
“Every time I’ve done something for these people,” ‘ Major Joppolo said, “I’ve found they did two things for me just out of thanks.”
“Well, what do you want me to do about this bell?” “I just wondered, Lord, if you could suggest a way to get them another bell. Not just any bell, you know, but one that could take the place of the one they lost.” “Every time I need something out of the ordinary,” His Lordship said, “I make application to the United States Army. They have the most extraordinary things, you know. They gave me a jeep. They gave me my choice of pipes, damned good briar, too, went from Scotland to the U.S.A. and all the way back here to Algiers, by way of the U.S. Army. Some one told me about these electrical razors, and they even got me one of those, but I can’t use it because of this damned Italian current, wrong current, you know, not like our current. I suggest you try the U.S. Army, Joppolo.”
“I haven’t had quite the same kind of luck with the Army, Lord. You got some friend, or something? Who do you ask for all these fancy things they get you?”
“Just write General Wilson, W. B. Wilson, Quartermaster Depot, Algiers. General Wilson told me he’d try to get me anything I wanted. just use my name, Joppolo, he’ll find you a bell. I’m sure of it:’
Major Joppolo wrote down General Wilson’s name and address. “Thank you, Lord,” the Major said. “That sounds like it might work. I sure want to get a bell for this town.”
Lord Runcin clapped his snuffbox shut and stood up. “Well, Joppolo, sounds to me as if you were doing a wizard job here. Keep it up. If you have any troubles, just give me a buzz.” And His Lordship left, on the verge of a delicious sneeze which he had been saving in his nostrils for ten minutes.
Major Joppolo stared out of the window, and he was wonderfully happy, with the double happiness of accomplishment and praise for it. He was drawn back from his pleasant daze by a torrent of Italian.
It came from Quattrocchi.
“You Americans think you are so civilized, you think you are doing us a favor by disembarking on our shores. You are no better than the Germans. The Germans never did anything in this town such as your men have done. I gave you my house. I did not mind giving you my house. I thought the Americans were civilized. You are the one who told me they are civilized. You said they