From Here to Eternity_ The Restored Edit - Jones, James [385]
But a little while later the Indiana farmboy stepped over to them with an unusually affably resolute look and asked if one of them would break his arm for him.
“What the hell for, Francis?” Prew wanted to know.
“Because I want to go to the hospital,” the Indiana farmboy explained.
“What do you want to go to the hospital for?”
“Because I’m sick and tired of this goddam hole,” the Indiana farmboy said affably. “I’ve pulled my whole month’s sentence and I’ve still got twenty-six days to do. Twenty-six more days.”
“How would you like to have six months to do, like me?” Jackson said.
“I wouldnt like it,” the Indiana farmboy said.
“Breaking your arm wont help you to get out any quicker,” Prew said reasonably.
“It’ll get me two or three weeks in the hospital though.”
“Anyway, how the hell could we break your arm? Take it over our knee like a stick and break it?” Prew said, “An arm’s hard to break, Francis.”
“I’ve already thought of that,” the Indiana farmboy said triumphantly. “I can lay my arm down between two rocks and one of you can hit it with a sledgehammer. That would break it quick and easy and give me at least two weeks vacation in the hospital.”
“I don’t want to do it, Francis,” Prew said, suddenly feeling a little bit queasy.
“Will you do it for me, Stonewall?” the Indiana farmboy said.
“What the hell do you want to go to the hospital for?” Jackson evaded. “It aint no better than here. I’ve been there, and I’m telling you true. It aint a dam bit bettern here.”
“Well, at least there wont be no Fatso there, and you wont have to work in this goddam sun breaking rocks with a hammer.”
“No,” Jackson said, “but you’ll sit around on your dead ass looking out through them goddam chainmesh grids till you’ll wish to hell you was breaking rocks with a hammer.”
“At least the food will be better.”
“Its better,” Jackson admitted. “But you’ll get just as sick of it anyway.”
“Then you wont do it for me? Even as a favor?” the Indiana farmboy said reproachfully.
“Oh, I guess I’d do it for you,” Jackson said reluctantly squeamishly, “but I’d a hell of a lot rather not, Francis.”
“I’ll do it,” Blues Berry grinned. “Any old time you want it done, Francis. If you really want to do it, that is.”
“I want to do it,” the Indiana farmboy said affably firmly.
“Well, wheres some rocks?” Berry said.
“Theres a couple over here where I’m working that’ll do just fine.”
“Okay,” Berry said. “Lets go.” Then he paused and turned back to the others. “You guys dont care if I do it for him, do you? I mean, what the hell? If he’s that sick of it. I can see how I might want somebody to do it for me sometime maybe.”
“No,” Prew said reluctantly. “I dont care. Its none of my affair. I just dont want to do it, thats all.”
“Thats the way I feel,” Jackson said queasily.
“Okay, I’ll be right back,” Berry said. “Keep an eye out for them guards.”
The guard down in the pit was clear out of sight, but the two guards up on the cliff were both in position to see them.
“You better watch them up there,” Prew said.
“Hell, if I waited till they got out of sight, I’d wait till the earth looked level.”
“They probly move off a piece in a little bit,” Prew suggested.
“Ahh, fuck them,” Berry said disgustedly. “The no good cocksuckers. They too blind to see anything anyway.”
He took his hammer and followed the Indiana farmboy off about five yards where Francis pointed out two rocks he had selected, two smooth flat-topped ones about six or eight inches apart and three or four inches off the ground. The Indiana farmboy knelt down and laid his left arm out across the rocks with his elbow and upper forearm on one and his wrist out onto the other.
“This way, you see, it wont break any joints,” he explained affably. “I figured my left arm because I’m righthanded. It’ll be easier to eat with and I can still write letters home to the famly. Okay,” he said. “Hit it.”
“All right,