From Here to Eternity_ The Restored Edit - Jones, James [387]
Nobody moved. Nobody answered.
“All right,” the Major said crisply. “We can play hard too. You men are in Number Two because you are recalcitrants. I dont have no sympathy for any of you. You’ve been getting away with murder lately and its about time all of you learned who runs this Stockade. I’ll give the man one last chance to step forward.”
Nobody moved.
“All right, Sergeant,” the Major said crisply and nodded at Fatso.
S/Sgt Judson stepped up to the first man and said, “Who broke Murdock’s arm?” The man was a skinny little old-timer from the 8th Field with a craggy lined face that portrayed absolute cynicism and eyes that stared straight ahead as immovably as two stones. He had been clear over on the other side of the quarry but he already knew the whole story. He said, “I dont know, Sergeant” and Fatso rapped him across the shins with the grub hoe handle and asked him again. The craggy face never moved and the solid stone eyes neither wavered nor flickered. He said, “I dont know, Sergeant” again and Fatso slammed him with the head in the belly and asked him again. He got exactly the same results.
It was the same way all up and down the line. Fatso started methodically at one end and worked his way diligently down and back up to the other. He asked each man the same question “Who broke Murdock’s arm?” five times. Not a figure moved and not an eye flickered or wavered and nothing but infinite contempt for Fatso’s hard methods and Fatso himself showed on any face. This was not Number Three; this was Number Two. And Number Two was as solidly together as a morticed stone wall.
Neither the contempt or the unbreakability bothered Fatso. His business was to ask each man the question and hit him if he gave the wrong answer, not to worry about the results, and he did his job thoroughly and methodically. When he had worked his way through the line, he came back to the Major and they both went down the line and stopped in front of Blues Berry.
“Who broke Murdock’s arm for him?” Major Thompson said.
Everybody knew they knew, then.
Berry stared straight ahead without answering.
Fatso hit him.
“Did you break Murdock’s arm for him?” Major Thompson said.
Berry stared straight ahead, at attention, without answering.
Fatso hit him.
“Did you break Murdock’s arm for him?” Major Thompson said.
Berry stared straight ahead, at attention, without answering.
Fatso hit him.
“It just happens,” the Major smiled, “that we already know you was the man who broke Murdock’s arm for him.”
Berry grinned.
Fatso hit him.
“Step forward,” Major Thompson said.
Berry took two paces forward, still grinning.
Fatso hit him across the bridge of the nose with the head of the grub hoe handle. Berry went down to his knees. He stayed there several seconds, nobody helping him, before he got back up shakily. Blood was pouring out of his nose, but he did not raise his hands or move his eyes from the wall. He licked his lips with the tip of his tongue and grinned at the Major.
“I’m going to make an example out of you, Berry,” Major Thompson said crisply. “You’re too big for your pants. I’m going to cut you down till you fit them. You think you’re too tough. I’m going to show these men what happens to a man who gets too big for his pants and thinks he’s too tough. Did you break Murdock’s arm?”
“Fuck you,” Berry said huskily.
This time Fatso hit him in the mouth with the head of the grub hoe handle. Berry’s knees went loose but he did not quite go down. His eyes came unfocused but he did not move them from the wall. When he straightened up, he worked his mouth a little and spat two teeth out at Fatso’s feet contemptuously and grinned at him.
“And I’m going to kill you, Fatso,” he grinned. “If I ever get out of here, I’m going to hunt you down and kill you. So you better get me first. Because if I ever get out, I’ll kill you.”
Fatso was as unmoved by this as he had been by the general contempt and uncooperativeness. He raised his grub hoe handle again, methodically,