Caine Mutiny, The - Herman Wouk [261]
“Had to talk loud ‘n’ fast, Steve-I played pretty dirty pool, you know, in court-poor Jack, he made a wonderful argument- Multitudes, Multitudes, hey?” He peered blearily at the cake. “Well, I guess I ought to return the celebrated author’s toast, at that.” He fumbled at a bottle and sloshed wine into a glass and all over his hands. “Biblical title of course. Can’t do better for a war book. I assume you give the Navy a good pasting?”
“I don’t think Public Relations would clear it, at any rate,” the novelist said, grinning.
“Fine. Someone should show up these stodgy, stupid Prussians.” Greenwald weaved and grabbed at the chair. “I told you I’m pretty far along- I’ll get to my speech yet, don’t worry- Wanna know about the book first. Who’s the hero, you?”
“Well, any resemblance, you know, is purely accidental-”
“Course I’m warped,” said Greenwald, “and I’m drunk, but it suddenly seems to me that if I wrote a war novel I’d try to make a hero out of Old Yellowstain.” Jorgensen whooped loudly, but nobody else laughed, and the ensign subsided, goggling around. “No, I’m serious, I would. Tell you why. Tell you how I’m warped. I’m a Jew, guess most of you know that. Name’s Greenwald, kind of look like one, and I sure am one, from way back. Jack Challee said I used smart Jew-lawyer tactics-course he took it back, apologized, after I told him a few things he didn’t know- Well, anyway ... The reason I’d make Old Yellowstain a hero is on account of my mother, little gray-headed Jewish lady, fat, looks a lot like Mrs. Maryk here, meaning no offense.”
He actually said “offensh.” His speech was halting and blurry. He was gripping the spilling glass tightly. The scars on his hand made red rims around the bluish grafted skin.
“Well, sure, you guys all have mothers, but they wouldn’t be in the same bad shape mine would if we’d of lost this war, which of course we aren’t, we’ve won the damn thing by now. See, the Germans aren’t kidding about the Jews. They’re cooking us down to soap over there. They think we’re vermin and should be ‘sterminated and our corpses turned into something useful. Granting the premise-being warped, I don’t, but granting the premise, soap is as good an idea as any. But I just can’t cotton to the idea of my mom melted down into a bar of soap. I had an uncle and an aunt in Cracow, who are soap now, but that’s different, I never saw my uncle and aunt, just saw letters in Jewish from them, ever since I was a kid, but never could read them. Jew, but I can’t read Jewish.”
The faces looking up at him were becoming sober and puzzled.
“I’m coming to Old Yellowstain. Coming to him. See, while I was studying law ‘n’ old Keefer here was writing his play for the Theatre Guild, and Willie here was on the playing fields of Prinshton, all that time these birds we call regulars-these stuffy, stupid Prussians, in the Navy and the Army-were manning guns. Course they weren’t doing it to save my mom from Hitler, they were doing it for dough, like everybody else does what they do. Question is, in the last analysis-last analysis-what do you do for dough? Old Yellowstain, for dough, was standing guard on this fat dumb and happy country of ours. Meantime me, I was advancing my little free non-Prussian life for dough. Of course, we figured in those days, only fools go into armed service. Bad pay, no millionaire future, and you can’t call your mind or body your own. Not for sensitive intellectuals. So when all hell broke loose and the Germans started running out of soap and figured, well it’s time to come over and melt down old Mrs. Greenwald-who’s gonna stop them? Not her boy Barney. Can’t stop a Nazi with a lawbook. So I dropped the lawbooks and ran to learn how to fly. Stout fellow. Meantime, and it took a year and a half before I was any good, who was keeping Mama out of the soap dish? Captain Queeg.
“Yes, even Queeg, poor sad guy, yes, and most of them not sad at all, fellows, a lot of them sharper boys than any of us, don’t kid yourself, best men I’ve aver seen, you can’t be good in the Army or Navy