From Here to Eternity_ The Restored Edit - Jones, James [298]
“Say Sir, when you speak to an officer, buddy,” the sergeant said. “Whats the matter with you?”
“Never mind,” the OD said. “Just get him dressed. I havent got all night. The OD must inspect the posts, you know.”
He slid himself up from between the sheets by force of habit, leaving the bunk needing only to be tightened, before he remembered. The flashlight followed him as he climbed out nakedly.
“Would you mind takin that goddam light out of my eyes? So I can see my clothes? What am I being taken in for?”
“Never mind,” the OD said. “Just do as you’re told. You’ll have plenty of time to find that out. Move the light, Sergeant.”
“My wallet’s in my footlocker,” Prew said, when he was dressed. Around them in the squadroom men were sitting up watching, their eyes very big reflecting the light of the flash.
“Never mind the wallet,” the OD said impatiently. “You wont need it. Your equipment will be taken care of. You men there,” he said. “Go back to bed and go to sleep. This is none of your affair.”
As one man the lights reflecting from the eyes went out. The bunks squeaked as they lay down and rolled over in silence, away from the light.
“Theres money in it, Sir,” Prew said. “If I dont take it with me, it wont be here when I get back.”
“All right then,” the OD said impatiently. “Get it then. But hurry up.”
He was already shaking the footlocker key out from the bottom of his pillowslip. The Sgt led him down the stairs with the OD behind him and the CQ bringing up the rear.
“I aint going to take off on you,” Prew grinned.
“Dont I know it,” the Sgt said.
“Never mind,” the OD said.
“And shut up,” the Sgt said.
Downstairs in the corridor the CQ’s light was on, the mosquito netting still hastily thrown back from his bunk beside the little desk, and in the light Prew could see them. The OD was 1st Lt Van Voorhees of Battalion Headquarters, tall and big-nosed and flat-headed, three years out of the Point. The sergeant was a man he didn’t know by name but he recognized his face. Cpl Miller he had soldiered with for months. They were strangers.
“Hold it up, you,” the Sgt said and turned to Miller. “You got this on your report yet?”
“No,” Miller said. “I was just going to ask you.”
They stood by the desk talking in low secret voices. Prew listened to them reciting the names and numbers that went on the report. He felt peculiar. Lt Van Voorhees stood by himself at the door tapping his fingernails in succession on the jamb.
“Lets hurry it up, Sergeant,” Lt Van Voorhees said.
“Yes, Sir,” the Sgt said. “Well, thanks a lot, Corporal,” he said. “Sorry we had to wake you up. You can go back to bed now.”
“You’re very welcome,” Miller said. “Any time I can be of help. You sure theres nothing more I can do?”
“Nope,” the Sgt said. “Its all done now.”
“Okay,” Miller said. “Just ask me though.”
“No,” the Sgt said. “Thanks though. We appreciate your help.”
“Any time,” Miller said.
Prew turned to Lt Van Voorhees. “Whats the charges, Sir,” he said, “on me.”
“Never mind,” the Lt said impatiently. “You’ll have plenty of time to find that out tomorrow.” He looked at his watch impatiently.
“But I’ve got a right to know the charges against me,” Prew said. “Who preferred charges?”
Van Voorhees peered at him. “You dont have to inform me of your rights, soldier. I know what they are. Capt Holmes preferred the charges. And I dont like guardhouse lawyers. Are you finished, Sergeant?”
The Sgt nodded busily.
Prew whistled. “They sure worked fast,” he grinned, “whoever it was. Must of got him up out of bed.” As a joke, it did not come off very well.
“Well, lets get gone then,” Van Voorhees said to the Sgt, as if nobody else had spoken. “I’ve got work to do.”
“Shut up, Mack,” the Sgt said to Prew. “The more you pop off, the harder you make it on yourself. Come on, lets go. You heard what the OD said.”
In the long low corrugated-iron Regimental guardhouse across the street they gave him a blanket and sent him back through the row of bars that separated the lockup from the office. They did not shut the