From Here to Eternity_ The Restored Edit - Jones, James [289]
They were both very glad to see him.
“Boys,” Lt Dick said, “dont you think its gone far enough now? I hate to see you boys fight like this. Its only a waste of energy and nothing is ever decided by it. If you boys would put half as much energy into helping each other,” Lt Dick said in his mild religious voice, “that you do into hurting each other we would all be a lot better off and I would probably lose my job.”
The crowd laughed and Lt Dick looked around at them and smiled broadly.
Neither of them said anything.
“Besides,” Lt Dick said, “Bloom here is supposed to fight tonight, isnt he? If you boys fight much longer he wont have time to change clothes before he gets in the ring.”
The crowd laughed and Lt Dick looked around at them and smiled broadly. Then he put his arm around Prew and the other arm around Bloom and said, “Shake hands, boys. A little friendly fight like this is always all right, it cleans up a boy’s blood, but you dont want to carry it too far, do you? I want you to stop now,” he said. “Now shake hands,” he said.
They shook hands grudgingly and Lt Dick took his arms from around them and Prew staggered off to the barracks and Bloom staggered off to the gym to get ready to fight. Lt Dick stayed and talked with the crowd.
Prew sat on his bunk in the empty squadroom a long time. He decided he would not go to town. He went in the empty latrine and vomited up his supper but he did not feel any better. His head hurt and was very sore on the temple where Bloom had connected and that ear burned like fire. His hand was still swelling. His arms felt like he could not lift them and were beginning to show dark bruises of the punches he had caught on them. His legs quivered every time he stood up. He did not feel he had accomplished a whole hell of a lot. The thought of going to bed with Alma, or anybody else, made him feel utterly hollow. After a while, when he heard the first cheers from the quad of the first bout of the smoker, he showered and put on a clean uniform and went down shakily and out through the empty dayroom over to the Post Beergarden.
Chief Choate was sitting at one of the tables out on the grass under the trees. The Chief had moved over from Choy’s on account of the crowd at the smoker, but the forest of empty bottles and cans on the table might have been the same forest transplanted from his old corner table every evening at Choy’s. He looked up at Prew ponderously contentedly from out of his forest.
“Sit down,” he said. “You got a nice ear there.”
Prew pulled out a chair. He could feel his face grinning. “Its sore. But it dint catch enough the punch to get thick on me.”
“Here,” Chief said happily, “have a beer.” He inspected his forest with weighty deliberation and uprooted one of the trees. He pushed it over to Prew with all the formality of bestowing a medal. “What I hear,” he said in his slow careful way, “I’d say you done pretty fair. Considerin you wasnt in trainin.”
Prew looked at him, suspecting sarcasm. Then he saw that it wasnt. He accepted with dignity. He was beginning suddenly to feel a lot better. Chief Choate did not hand out beers and seats at his table promiscuously.
“I’m gettin too old for that kind of stuff,” he said modestly, and tiredly. “Jesus!” he said. “I dont see how he can even climb in a ring. Let alone fight. You really reckon he’ll still be able to fight?”
“He’ll fight,” Chief said. “That boy’s a horse. And he wants that rating.”
“I hope you’re right. I wouldnt want to of thrown him out of bein able to fight. I wouldnt want to do that.”
“What I hear you sure dint ack like it,” Chief grinned gently.
Prew grinned back and leaned