From Here to Eternity_ The Restored Edit - Jones, James [31]
The Col smiled significantly and the little mustache became a chicken hawk. “Results. Results what counts. He has requested reassignment to the Mainland, of course,” he added.
Capt Holmes nodded, thinking fast. This was recent. Today. Or he would have heard about it. That left a majority open—unless they imported somebody. Of course, the rating wasn’t open, but the job was, and if a man got appointed to the job it would probably mean his own promotion would be recommended.
The Col placed his big hands flat upon the serenity of his desk. “Well,” he said. “What was it you wanted, ‘Dynamite’?”
Holmes had almost forgotten what he came for. “Oh,” he said. “One of my old men, Sir. Came to see me a week ago. Wants to transfer up here with me. He’s at Fort Kamehameha, Coast Artillery. Served with me at Bliss. I wanted to see you about him so I could be sure it went through all right.”
The little mustache flapped its wings slyly. “Another fighter, eh. We’re little over strength, but it can be arranged. I’ll even write letter to Department on ’t.”
Capt Holmes bent down to pat the Colonel’s dog. “Why, no, Sir. He’s not a fighter. He’s a cook. A good man, though. Best cook I ever had.”
“Oh,” the Col said.
“He served with me at Bliss, Sir. I’ll vouch for him personally.”
“I’ll have it attended to,” Col Delbert said. “Tell me, how ’s that outfit of yours getting along? Still balling the jack? Your company interests me. It proves my theory: good athletes make good noncoms and good leaders; good leaders make a good organization. Simple logic. Plenty of cattle in this world, that have to be driven. But without good leaders nothing’s ever accomplished.”
Capt Holmes’s eyes went opaque and out of focus with his shyness. “I flatter myself, Sir,” he smiled, “that I have the most efficient outfit in the Regiment.”
“Yes. Now First Sergeant Warden is an example of my logic. An all around athlete before he—ah—took up the grail, as I call it.”
Capt Holmes laughed.
“I imagine he bitches a lot,” the Col said, “but a good soldier always bitches. Good for him. Good soldiers are born—born wild and wooly, like Sergeant Warden. Only time to worry about a good soldier is when he stops bitching. My grandfather taught me that.”
Capt Holmes nodded vigorously. “Yes, Sir,” he said, although this philosophy had not originated with the Colonel’s grandfather. It was widespread and he had heard it all before. But it was good. That about Warden, particularly, was so true. He was feeling better.
Col Delbert suddenly brought his swivel chair back up level and scooted it up to the desk. He spoke sharply.
“Now tell me, Captain: Just what are your prospects for next year? You say you’ll win this year, so we’ll dismiss that. You’re as good as your word with me, sir. But if we are to win we must begin to plan early. That’s a maxim, my grandfather. Winning this year is not enough. We must plan on winning next year. In this world it is the winner who gets spoils. I dont know about the next world but I imagine it ’s the same thing there, in spite of what our skypilots tell us. Would you say we’ve a good chance of winning?”
Capt Holmes felt suddenly hedged in. There was a condition attached to the majority, provided of course he won this year, and he was being pinned down for it.
“Well, yes, Sir,” he said.
“As good a chance as we have now? of winning this year?”
“Well, Sir. No. I wouldnt say exactly that.” Capt Holmes racked his brain. “We’re due to lose three Class I boys, Sir, you know, as short timers.”
“Ah,” the Col said. “I know. But you still have Sgt Wilson and Sgt O’Hayer. Do we have nothing else by way of replacement?”
“I have one new man who did fairly well this year in the Bowl. Pvt Bloom. I’m thinking of grooming him for a shot at the middleweight next year.”
The Col kept staring