From Here to Eternity_ The Restored Edit - Jones, James [313]
“Yes, Sir,” Prew said quickly, and was rewarded by hearing a rustle subside behind his left. That would be Hanson, he thought, my old pal Pfc Hanson.
“I think you will make a model prisoner,” Major Thompson said, and paused.
“Sir, I hope so,” Prew said quickly into the breach.
“We may appear to be unduly harsh in our methods,” Major Thompson said. “But the quickest, efficientest, least expensive way to educate a man is to make it painful for him when he is wrong, the same as with any other animal. Then he will learn to be right. Its the same way you train yourself a birddog. Our country is at present building a rather reluctant civilian army with which to defend itself in the greatest war in history. The only way to do that is to make the men want to soldier. To be a good soldier a man has to want to soldier more than he wants not to soldier.
“Chaplains’ talks on patriotism and indoctrination films are not enough. Perhaps if there was less egotistical selfishness and more willing sacrifice in the world it would work. But it dont. This policy works. We wont talk to you about patriotism here. We will make not wanting to soldier so painful you will prefer to soldier. We mean to see when a man gets out of this Stockade he will be willing to do anything not to get back into it again, even die. Are you following me?”
“Yes, Sir,” Prew said quickly. The nausea in his stomach was beginning to subside a little.
“There is always some men,” Major Thompson said, “who because of psychological shortcomings and poor home training will never be good soldiers. If there are men like that here we want to find out about it. If its more painful for them to soldier than to stay in this Stockade then they are useless, and we want to get rid of them before they taint the men around them. They will be discharged as unfit for service. We are not concerned with individual soldiers, we’re concerned with the Army. But we want to be quite sure they really dont want to soldier, and are not just goldbricking. You see what I mean?”
“Yes, Sir,” Prew said quickly.
“We have the perfect system to carry out this policy,” Major Thompson said. “You cant beat it. We’ll find out if you really dont want to soldier or not.” He turned in his chair toward the other desk. “Wont we, Sgt Judson?”
“Yes, Sir,” rumbled the man behind the other desk. Prew turned his head to look at him and the butt of the omniscient grub hoe handle immediately thudded into his back in the same place that had grown very sensitive now, nauseating him sickly. He snapped his head back to the front, but not before he had seen an enormous head and hogshead chest with deep concentric layers of fat over the even deeper layers of muscle that made S/Sgt Judson somewhat resemble Porky Pig in the Walt Disney cartoons. S/Sgt Judson was staring at him with the deadest eyes he had ever seen in a human being. They looked like two beads of caviar spaced far apart on a great white plate.
“Theres a few rules,” Major Thompson said. “All of them is designed toward the single objective of seeing how bad a man wants not to soldier. For instance,” he said, “when in the presence of superiors, prisoners move only on command. Especially in this office,” he said.
“Yes, sir,” Prew said quickly. “I’m sorry, Sir.” The nausea had come back full force, worse than before, and he wanted to take his hands and knead and massage the place on his back that had become so sensitive now that it seemed to have a mind of its own with which to anticipate the grub hoe handle.
When Major Thompson did not acknowledge his apology but went right on naming off rules, the spot on his back seemed to leap quiveringly in its own private panic for fear he had made another mistake in talking when not asked, but the omniscient grub hoe handle did not fall. He waited for it eternally, while trying to listen to the rules Major Thompson was naming.
“Prisoners are not allowed to have visitors, and they are not allowed to have tailormade cigarets,