From Here to Eternity_ The Restored Edit - Jones, James [230]
“I guess so. But I reckon any place in America will be about the same, when we get in the war.”
“I’m too old for the draft.” Hal smiled.
“I meant restrictions and like that.”
Hal shrugged. It was very much a Frenchman’s shrug. “At one time I seriously considered becoming a citizen of France. Its the most wonderful country in the world. However,” he smiled, “I’m rather glad I didn’t, now.
“Its odd. The very traits of freedom that made living there so wonderful are the very things that in the end defeated la belle France,” Hal smiled, but he looked as if he were about to cry. “That seems to be a law in the very nature of life, I guess,” he said.
“It looks like a man’s rooked either way, dont it?” Prew said. Finally now, at last, under these last few drinks, he was sitting in the shade of the old on-pass feeling again, finally now he had recovered it again, as he had had it climbing the stairs to the New Congress. He felt very sad. The sun was finally going down now, the heat was moving on, the shade was getting longer now, it was time to rest now. He looked over at Angelo and Angelo was in the deep shade too, mumbling to himself.
“Are you in the deep shade, Angelo?” he said. If they would only let us drink up their shade, he thought, and then leave us alone, not exact their pound of flesh. Why was it you always had to pay for things?
“I dont think the word freedom’s got any meaning any more,” he said to Hal.
“I think I’m free,” Hal said.
Prew laughed in the shade. “How about a nuther drink?”
“All right.” Hal took the glass and went out into the kitchen. “Don’t you think I’m free?”
“Bring me too one,” Angelo said. He got up vaguely and carried out his glass.
“Are you afraid of anything?” Prew called to Hal.
“No,” Hal said, coming back with the glasses. “I fear nothing.”
“Then you’re free,” Prew said. He watched Angelo sit down and empty off his glass.
“I’m free,” Angelo yelled. He leaned back in the chair and kicked his heels up in the air. “I’m free as a fucking bird. Thats what I am. You aint free,” he yelled to Prew. “You goddam thirty year man. You’re a goddam thirty year slave. But I’m not. I’m free. Till six o’clock in the morning.”
“Quiet down,” Hal said sharply. “You’ll wake up my landlady downstairs.”
“Gothell,” Angelo said. “Fuck her. And you gothell.”
“I think its time you went to bed, Tony,” Hal said sadly. “And slept it off.”
“Sure,” Angelo said. “Sing for your supper. Okay, lets go to bed.”
“Thats not a very nice thing to say to me,” Hal said.
“Sorry, old boy. I can’t help it. Its the truth, aint it?”
“Yes,” Hal said. “But one doesnt always have to mention the truth, does one?”
“No,” Angelo said. “I guess one doesnt.”
“Come on,” Hal said. “Let me help you up.” He went over to Maggio’s chair and offered to put his arm around the narrow bony shoulders and help him up. Maggio waved him away.
“Not yet. I’ll get up by my goddam self.”
“Do you want to stay out here with me?” Tommy asked Prew coyly.
“Sure,” Prew said. “Fuck it. Why not? What the hell?”
“Well,” Tommy said stiffly. “You dont have to, you know.”
“Dont I? Well thats good.”
“I’m drunk,” Angelo yelled. “Whoopee! If you wasn’t a thirty goddam year man, Prewitt, I’d really like you.”
Prew grinned. “You said yourself it wasnt much diffrnt from Gimbel’s Basement.”
“Thats right,” Angelo said. “Thats what I said, didnt I? Listen,” he said. “Before my hitch is up we’ll be in this fuckin-war. You know that? I hate the Army. Even you hate the Army, Prewitt. You just wont admit it. I hate it. O god how I hate the fucking Army.”
He leaned back in his chair and hung his arms over the leather, rolling his head and repeating his passion to himself.
“Do you write under your own name?” Prew asked Tommy.
Hal was standing beside Maggio’s chair, looking anxious and wringing his hand a little.
“Of course not,” Tommy smiled reasonably. “Do you think I want to put my own name to such