From Here to Eternity_ The Restored Edit - Jones, James [468]
“Sir,” Warden said formally, “I would like to make formal request that this body be buried in the Army’s permanent cemetery at Schofield Barracks.”
The Lt Col looked at him again. “Upon what authority, Sergeant?”
“None, Sir,” Warden said. “Except that I’m sure my Company Commander would prefer it. Our Company has other men buried there.”
“The Schofield cemetery is a permanent cemetery,” the Lt Col said. “I thought you said this man had relatives. Since the Pearl Harbor attack all temporary interments have been made in the new Red Hill Cemetery.”
“Yes, Sir,” Warden said. “But it will be some time before any bodies can be shipped home, Sir. Probably until after the end of the war. And this man was a Regular Army soldier. He had at least eight years service,” he lied.
“Oh,” the Lt Col said. “Well,” he said finally, “I believe I can attend to that for you. I’m an Old Army man myself, Sergeant.”
“Yes, Sir,” Warden said.
The Lt Col made a note in his pocket notebook. “Now. If you will just sign for these effects, please. There is nothing but this wallet, a small pocketknife, this obsolete SP Card, and a keychain with one key. Sign here, please.”
“These are all, Sir?” Warden said.
“Except the pistol. I shall have to confiscate that, of course. And the cartridges.” He extended his pen. “Now sign here, please.”
Warden did not take it “I want to be sure its everything, Sir.”
“Sergeant, I told you it was.” The Lt Col looked around frowningly. “Now if you will just—”
“Begging the Colonel’s pardon, Sir.” The S/Sgt in charge of the patrol detail stepped up to them and saluted.
“Yes, Sgt Dixon,” the Lt Col said impatiently. “What is it?”
“Sir, I believe there was another item that is not on the list.”
“There was?” the Lt Col said. “And why wasnt I told of this before, Sergeant?” he said sternly.
“I guess it just slipped past in the confusion, Sir.”
“What was the item, Sergeant?”
“A small black pocket notebook, Sir,” the S/Sgt said. “The last time I saw it it was lying on the seat of our jeep there.”
“Then I am forced to beg your pardon, First Sergeant,” the Lt Col said.
“Thats quite all right, Sir,” Warden said.
“I’ll get it for you, Sergeant,” the S/Sgt said.
“I’ll go with you,” Warden said.
At the jeep they had to turn on the flashlight to look for it. It had fallen off the seat down into the floor well of the rider’s seat.
“Here you are, Sergeant,” the S/Sgt said. As he picked it up a paper fell out of it onto the jeep floor.
“Just a minute, Sergeant,” Warden said. He borrowed the flash and got the paper.
“I didn’t see it,” the S/Sgt apologized.
“Its all right.” Warden opened the paper and held the flash on it. It looked like short lines of rhymed verse, a poem. At the top was the title printed in capitals. THE RE-ENLISTMENT BLUES. He did not try to read it. He folded the paper and buttoned it down in his shirt pocket carefully and looked at the notebook. There was nothing in it but a long list of books under the printed caption: TO READ. Somehow, even in the midst of all this, he felt an apart aloof moment of vague surprise, to find a list of books like that in Prewitt’s effects. Most of them, he had read himself, at one time or another. But he did not expect Prewitt to have wanted to read them.
“You know,” the S/Sgt said as Warden buttoned the notebook into his other shirt pocket, “we feel pretty bad about this, Sergeant.” He looked around him, and then went on in a low voice. “Harry Temple, he’s a Pfc, the one who did the shooting, is all busted up over it. Its not like a Jap or something like that. I guess you think we’re lying. But that was what he actually did. He turned right back into our fire.”
“What did he do?” Warden said.
“Nothing,” the S/Sgt said. “He was running. Cpl Oliver, he’s my second in command, he fired two or three times. But he kept running. Then Harry Temple opened up with the Thompson. Just firing. Then the light went on. And your man just suddenly stopped and turned around right into the fire.