From Here to Eternity_ The Restored Edit - Jones, James [154]
“Aint had a chanct,” the Chief said. “Up to now.”
“We better hurry,” Maggio said, and sprinted for his wall locker.
Prew was looking at the Chief’s moon face which revealed nothing of the startling implications of the order. “Why, that means we drill outside.”
“You guessed it right. They changed the Drill Schedule early this mornin. Looks like the rainy season’s over. You better get your leggins on.”
Prew nodded and went to his wall locker and Chief Choate lit a cigaret and stared at the knotting string of rising smoke and waited patiently for them to come back.
“Old Ike,” he said, “is been snoopin all over hell, since before breakfast, lookin for you. I tole him you run over to the PX for a pack of butts.”
“Thanks, Chief,” Prew said.
“Thanks nothing,” the Chief said. “Thanks hell.”
Angelo was feverishly finishing up his first leggin, half hitching the string end. “I always know this guy was chickenshit,” he grinned.
The Chief looked at them stolidly. “This is no twobit ass eating, kid. This here is serious. Or maybe you dint hear me? When I said Drill moves outside?”
“No, I dint,” Angelo said.
The Chief ignored him. “The word’s gone out already,” he said to Prew. “From now on its no holts barred. They goin to have practicly a free hand with you, in the field.”
Prew slipped his toe in through the leggin strap and worked it back, not saying anything. There was nothing to say. He had known for a long time it was coming, but he had not expected it to come. It was like with dying.
“Another stunt like missin Reveille,” the Chief said, “and you gone. I went out on a limb for you this morning. I wont do it again.”
“I wouldnt expect you to,” Prew said. “Not now.”
“I cant afford to,” the Chief said, placidly, factually, no guilt in his face or voice. “Maybe you think I let you down, because you and me been friends.”
“No.”
“I’m lettin you know now where I stand, so you wont think I doublecrossed you if I got to turn you in.”
“Okay. I got it.”
“I got pull with the Colonel,” the Chief explained factually, “but I aint got that much pull. I help you out along, what little bit I can, but no more goin out on limbs. I lucky to keep what I got and I aint goin to jeopardize it. I like this outfit.”
“So do I,” Prew said. “Thats funny aint it?”
“Yes,” the Chief said. “Very funny. Ha, ha. Ho, ho.”
“Big joke,” Prew said. “On me.”
“You buckin a big organization, when you buck the fighters in this outfit. They run this outfit. They maybe damn near run the Regmint. And they mean to see you go out for fightin, if they got to wear you down to a flyweight to do it.”
“Tell me somethin I dont know.”
“Okay. I thought you want the tip. But you tough. You a hard man. They cant touch you.” He made as if to get up.
“Wait,” Prew said. “Not as long as I keep within the ARs, within the Law, I dont see how they can. As long as I dont break no Laws.”
“Maybe not. But they want that Division Championship next winter bad, Dynamite wants it bad.”
“I dont see what he can do, long as I break no Laws.”
“Dont kid me,” the Chief said, “dont snow me. You no ree-croot. You been in quite a while. I guess you aint never seen a bunch get together and give a man The Treatment.”
“I’ve heard about it.”
“Whats The Treatment?” Maggio wanted to know.
The Chief ignored him. “Maybe they aint got it developed to a science, like the boys have at The Point, or VMI, or KMI, or Culver,” he said to Prew, “but its effective. Theres nothin in this world will bring a man into line quicker. Or else kill him. I seen it just once, in PI. The guy deserted, went back in the hills and married a Moro. When they caught him he got twelve years. He ended up a federal lifer.”
“I’m too smart for that,” Prew grinned. “And I dont kill easy, Chief,” he added, grinning stiffly, feeling the stiffness spreading clear up to his forehead like slow setting plaster, drawing these lips back tight on these teeth and cutting gashes in under these cheekbones, not him doing it, the stiffness doing it, as it always did this stiffness that came over him, over his face, in