From Here to Eternity_ The Restored Edit - Jones, James [279]
“A friend,” Prew said, in the prescribed manner.
“Advance, friend, and be recognized,” the voice boomed.
Prew walked forward slowly, in the prescribed manner.
“Halt!” the disembodied voice boomed instantly.
Prew stopped dead. This was not in the prescribed manner.
“Who goes there?” the voice boomed again.
“A friend, goddam it.”
“Advance, friend goddam it, and be recognized.”
Prew started forward.
“Halt!” the voice boomed instantly, waving the oily glint.
Prew halted. “Say, what the hell is this?”
“Quiet!” the figure roared, shaking the glint at him. “At ease! Rest! Fall Out! About Face! Right Dress! Who goes there?”
“Private Prewitt, Company G, —th Infantry,” Prew said, a suspicion growing in his mind.
“Advance, Private Prewitt, Company G, —th Infantry, and be executed,” the figure bellowed.
“Up yours, Warden,” Prew said, advancing.
“Boom!” the figure yelled, backing off. It shook the glinting object. “Boom! Boom! Gotcha, gotcha! You’re dead! Boom!”
“Cut the comedy, Warden,” Prew said disgustedly. He could make out the glinting object now. It was a bottle.
“Well, well,” Warden giggled drunkenly. His face lit up mischievously. “Fooled you, dint I? Hello, kid. What ever are you doin out all by yourself? Dont you know you’re liable to get shot wanderin around in the dark like that?”
“I’m takin a walk,” Prew said belligerently.
“Well, well,” Warden said hollowly. “A walk. The lootenant kind of broke up your little party, din ee?”
“The son of a bitch,” Prew said.
“Ah-ah,” Warden said, raising a finger. “Is that any way to talk about a Culpepper? Dont you know theres been a Culpepper serving his country in every war since Zachary Taylor took California away from Mexico? How would you like it if this country didnt have no California? What would you do for movies then, I guess? Where you think this world would be? without the Culpeppers?”
“To hell with the Culpeppers,” Prew said.
“Tsk-tsk,” Warden said owlishly. “No education. No feeling for world good. Not even no refinements, even. You’re better off executed. Boom!” he said. “Boom! Boom! You’re dead. Gotcha. What do you think of my new gun, kid?” He held out the bottle. Prew reached to take it. Warden drew it back. “Ah-ah,” he said. “Watch out. Its loaded.”
“So are you,” Prew said.
“Have a drink,” Warden said.
“I can get liquor,” Prew said. “I dont need yours.”
Warden was studying his bottle-gun. “Its loaded,” he said. “Loaded for bear. Boom!” he said. “Have a bear?” He flipped the bottle up and caught it. “I’m a shooter, kid. How would you like to shoot with me sometime, kid?” he grinned.
“What’re you doin, braggin?” Prew said. Warden, along with Pete Karelsen, was only just the best shot in the Regiment, was all. Both of them had star gauge ’03s that they worshipped. Along with Regimental Personnel Sergeant Major O’Bannon and Capt Stevens of B Company, they were the Regimental rifle team. No matter what any poor son of a bitch seemed to be able to do, Warden always seemed to be able to do it better. It wasnt even fair.
“Naw,” Warden grinned, “I aint braggin. I hear you’re a hotshot shooter. I hear you showed the boys some tricks with a rifle on the combat range last month. So I figure you like a little match with some real competition.”
“Okay,” Prew said. “Any fucking time you say, Warden.”
“Reglar match competition,” Warden said. “Make a little side bet. Say about a hundred bucks?”
“Even money?” Prew said.
“I ought to give you a little odds.”
“I thought maybe you’d want me to give you odds.”
“Naw,” Warden grinned slyly. “I wouldnt cheat you.”
“Where’ll we shoot?” Prew said. “Shoot now?”
“Shoot on the range,” Warden grinned. “Reglar match competition. Range season comin up in a month or so.”
“Hell,” Prew said. “I thought you meant tonight.”
“Aint got no gun. Except my baby here. Have to do it range season.”
“Even money?” Prew said, “and we both use your BC scope?”
“Sure.”
“I may not be here during range season,” Prew said.
“By god, thats right.” Warden ducked and snapped his