Mr. Bridge_ A Novel - Evan S. Connell [131]
Douglas asked for permission to join the Marines.
Mr. Bridge refused, pointing out that the United States was not at war.
Douglas argued that he was going to be drafted when he was eighteen, whether the United States got into the war or not, and if he waited until he was drafted he would no longer be allowed to choose the branch of service he wanted. He went on to say that he knew there was not much difference between the Army and the Marines, because in either case he would be a foot soldier. Just the same, he wanted to become a Marine.
Mr. Bridge took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “You are getting ahead of yourself. You will not be eighteen for quite a while. If you are still anxious to join the Marines at that time we will discuss the matter further.”
Douglas thought the war would be over by then.
“That would be wonderful,” Mr. Bridge replied.
Douglas asked if he could volunteer for the Navy and become an underwater-demolition expert.
Mr. Bridge said he could not.
It was not dangerous, Douglas insisted, because he would get very good training.
Mr. Bridge waved impatiently.
What would happen, Douglas persisted, if the Nazis invaded America?
“Should that occur,” Mr. Bridge said, “you may volunteer for anything you like. For the present, however, you will continue your education. When the government requires your services you will be notified. Until that happens we are not going to concern ourselves.”
Douglas had spoken somewhat windily in order to demonstrate his fearlessness. And apart from proving to his father that the idea of being punctured by a bullet or blown to pieces by a grenade did not frighten him, there were other reasons for joining the service. He was bored with school. He suspected that he was about to fail Spanish, and he was not doing much better in Public Speaking; if he could get into uniform before the end of the semester he would not have to worry about these problems. Besides, it should be exciting to be in military service and get to travel around, see some things, and meet older women. Furthermore, while wearing a uniform he would be treated with some respect.
He said to his father: “You sound like you hope the Germans win.”
Mr. Bridge told him to stop talking nonsense.
“You hate Jews.”
“Never have you heard me make such a statement.”
“When Mr. and Mrs. Arlen were here one night you said you hoped the British didn’t stop Hitler too soon.”
This was true. He had been joking because he knew the Arlens felt as he himself felt about the Jews. He could not imagine how Douglas had overheard the remark.
“I do not like that,” he said. “Not one bit. You are never to say any such thing again, do you understand? I will not listen to any more of it. I have had enough for one evening. More than enough.”
After a long silence Douglas asked if he could have permission to join the Army Air Corps.
Mr. Bridge said no.
140 Death Ray
Douglas remained in school, but he was excited by the war. Several of his friends had gotten permission to enlist. Others spoke of running away from home and buying false birth certificates in order to get to Europe while the fighting was still going on. Radio broadcasts and newspaper reports were full of accounts of air raids and of naval battles. At dinner he talked about an article he had read in a scientific magazine which suggested that beams of light could be used to kill.
“According to this article what they probably will try to do is throw these beams several miles and focus them. They don’t think anybody can figure out a defense, because if you get caught in these rays you just sort of evaporate.”
“I hope the scientists never succeed,” his mother said firmly. “We have more than enough dreadful weapons. I’m so opposed to all these bombs and guns.”
Douglas spread his hands. “I’m telling you what I read. It isn’t my brainstorm. Also, they figure the German scientists must be working out these same scientific principles,