Caine Mutiny, The - Herman Wouk [205]
“Hell, I’ve got nothing against Jews, you know that. This is a damn touchy case, that’s all-”
“I’m sure he’s the guy for us, sir-”
“What makes you so sure?”
“I know him pretty well, sir. He was at Georgetown Law when I was going through-class ahead of me, but we got friendly-”
“Well, sit down, sit down. What’s he doing around Com Twelve?”
Challee seated himself in the chair beside the desk, holding his back straight. “He’s just come off the sick list. He was hospitalized for third-degree burns. They’ve got him on temporary limited duty, officer personnel placement for air. He’s waiting for a medical okay to go back to his squadron-”
“How did he get burned? Shot up?”
“No, sir. Crashed a barrier. His plane burned up but they pulled him out-”
“Not so heroic-”
“Well, so far as flying goes, I don’t know that Barney’s any great shakes. I think he’s got two Japs-”
“What makes you think he’d be good for the Caine case?”
“Well, sir, Maryk is a dead pigeon, the way I see it, and Barney goes for that kind of case.” Challee paused. “I guess you’d call him odd in a way. Very odd. I’m used to him. He’s from Albuquerque. Barney is interested as hell in the Indians. You might say he’s nuts on the subject. He specialized in Indian cases after getting out of law school-won a lot of them, too. He was working up a pretty good general practice in Washington, before he joined up-”
“What was he, ROTC?”
“No. V-7, then switched to air.”
Breakstone pulled at his nose with thumb and forefinger for several seconds. “Sounds like he might be pinko.”
“I don’t think so, sir.”
“Have you talked to him?”
“Not yet, sir. Thought I’d ask you first.”
Captain Breakstone laced his fingers together and cracked his knuckles. He swiveled from side to side. “Christ, can’t we get a regular? If there’s one kind of smell we don’t want to have hung on this case, it’s regulars versus reserves-it’s bad enough the way it is-”
“I talked to eight guys, sir, on the list you gave me. It’s a hot potato. They’re afraid of it. And two guys have been detached and gone to sea-”
“Did you talk to Hogan?”
“Yes, sir. He begged off practically with tears in his eyes. He says it’s a lost case and all the defense counsel can do is get himself permanently fouled up with the Navy-”
“That isn’t so-”
“I’m just quoting him-”
“Well, maybe it is so, at that, a little bit.” Breakstone pulled at his nose. “Hell, somebody’s got to defend the case. When can you get this Greenwald up here?”
“I guess this afternoon, sir-”
“Get him up here. Don’t tell him what it’s about. I want to talk to him first.”
Lieutenant Greenwald came to Captain Breakstone’s office late that day. After a brief, grumpy questioning the legal officer gave him the Caine folder. Next morning when the captain came to his cubicle he found the skinny pilot waiting outside, slumped on a chair.
“Well, come on in, Greenwald. Think you can handle the case?” He took off his raincoat and draped it on a hanger, noticing that the folder lay on his desk.
“I’d rather not, sir.”
Breakstone glanced around in annoyed surprise. The pilot stood awkwardly in the doorway, looking at his shoes. He had a loose, adolescent mouth and a pale face, curly brown hair, and long dangling hands. “Looks more like Harold Teen than a red-hot Jewish lawyer,” thought Breakstone, as he had thought the previous day, too. He said, “Why not?”
“Well, several reasons, sir.” Greenwald kept his eyes bashfully down. “If there’s any other case you need help on-I mean I don’t want to seem uncooperative-”
“What’s the matter? Case too tough for you?”
“Well, I don’t want to waste your time with my opinions on it, sir-seeing that-”
“I’m asking you to waste my time. Sit down.” Breakstone’s eyes were drawn to the terrible fire scars on the pilot’s hands, hanging between his knees; the dead blue-white grafted skin, and the raw red edges, and the wrinkled stringy scar tissue. He looked away with an effort. “Challee told me you were a great one for defending the underdog-”
“These