From Here to Eternity_ The Restored Edit - Jones, James [121]
“He’s right,” Maggio whispered to Prewitt. “The Warden. He’s a damned good man, you know it?”
“I know it,” Prew whispered back. “He could just as easy have had you both in the Stockade. They dont come like him very often.”
“I’ve never even seen a dead man,” Maggio whispered. “Except my grandfather in his casket when I was a kid, and that made me sick.”
“Well I’ve seen them, no matter what The Warden says. I’ve seen a lot of them. They no different than dead dogs, once you get used to the idea.”
“Even dead dogs bother me,” Maggio whispered. “I made a mistake someplace, I guess, but I dont know where. I dont see how I could of done anything else, after that big stoop said a thing like that.”
“I’ll tell you where you made your mistake. Your mistake was you didnt hit him hard enough to put him out. He wouldnt have gone off his nut if he’d been unconscious. He might have laid for you after he come to, but I doubt even that.”
“My God,” Maggio protested, whispering. “I hit him hard as I could. His head must be solid ivory.”
“Personally,” Prew whispered, “I think it is. But if he ever fucks with me any more it wont be in the head I’ll hit him.”
“Just the same, I’m sure glad The Warden stopped us.”
“So am I,” Prew said.
Chapter 15
THEY SAT THAT WAY till the cook’s whistle shrilled up through the screens, calling them back to work. Then they went down, singly and silently, no one of them talking to any of the others. There was not much conversation and absolutely no horseplay on KP that night. For once even Bloom did not feel like talking. Probably he was still trying to figure out if whether, with the surprise ending the afternoon had taken, his honor had been smirched or not.
Even Stark noticed the gloominess of no talking and he came around to Prew to ask what had happened upstairs to cause such a profound dismalness. Prew told him, although it was obvious he had already heard about it, probably from someone who had run downstairs with the news right after it had happened, as someone always does, and he was only checking stories now and trying to get an inside account, instinctively, as good cops and good noncoms always do. But Prew was glad Stark had picked him to ask and, remembering what Stark had done this morning, he would have told him anyway.
“Maybe it’ll teach the big kike a lesson,” Stark said.
“Nothing will ever teach that guy a lesson.”
“I reckon yore right,” Stark said. “Jews never learn. They still think they God’s Chosen People. I dont like Jews, you know it? But this one’s goin to be a big man around here someday. I heah The Man’s sending him to the next NCO School, in April. Wont be long till he makes corprl.”
“Sure,” Prew said, “and if he can win four fights next year, he’ll be a fucking sergeant.”
“He’ll win them, too. He aint a bad fighter.”
“He aint a good one.”
“I never saw a Jew that was, including Barney Ross. But he’ll make it plenty tough on you and Angelo though, when he gets them stripes.”
“Not too tough.”
“It never gets too tough,” Stark mocked. “For a good man.”
“Okay,” Prew said. “But theres lots better men than future corporal Bloom ridin my tail in this outfit, tryin to scare me into going out for fighting. And they aint done it.”
“Thats right,” Stark said. “You dont scare, do you?”
“All right,” Prew said. “Okay. But a man cant let himself be pushed around by a bunch of pricks like that.”
“No,” Stark said, “a man cant do that.”
Prew shrugged. “Okay,” he said. “But thats still the way I feel. Why not say it? I aint bragging.”
“I know yore not. But I never seen any sense in a man goin out of his way to ask them for it.”
“I dont go out of my way to ask them for it.