Mr. Bridge_ A Novel - Evan S. Connell [33]
“The grease prevents corrosion.”
Douglas continued to examine the bullet.
“Look at it as long as you like, because I do not want you coming in here again unless I am with you.”
“If I ask first, can I look at them and the gun again?”
“If you ask. Under no other circumstances. Furthermore, you are not to tell your friends about this. I want that understood.”
“I won’t tell.”
“All right. Now, have you any questions?”
“How come you got it?”
“It was issued to me while I was serving in the Army.”
“How many Germans did you get with it?”
“I have never fired this gun except during target practice.” He could see that Douglas was puzzled. “Few men in military service engage in actual combat. The majority are kept busy providing food and clothing and ammunition and any number of other things for the few who are unfortunate enough to be assigned to the trenches. Let me put it this way: the Army functions like a timber company which requires the services of a great many people doing office work so that a relatively few men may go into the forest to chop down trees.”
“Is that all you did?”
“Essentially, yes.”
“Then how come you got a gun?”
“I have wondered about that myself many times. As I say, it was issued to me along with quite a number of things for which I had no subsequent use.”
“Did everybody get issued one?”
“I don’t know.”
“Didn’t you shoot even one German?”
“No, thank the Lord. The only Germans I saw were prisoners.”
“I thought you fought in the war. I told Vandermeer and Tipton you killed a lot of Germans.”
“I’m sorry to disappoint you.”
Douglas was silent for a while. Then he said, “It’s okay.”
“I could show you some souvenirs of the war.”
“Like what?”
“Well,” Mr. Bridge said, raising his eyebrows, “I’d just have to think about it. Yes, sir, I’d just have to try to remember what I have in my trunk.”
“That brown wood one with AEF on top?”
“That’s the one. I brought back quite a number of souvenirs. But of course I don’t know whether or not you’re interested. However, if you are, I suspect I might be able to find a trench knife, and I might even be able to find some bayonets. Then there might be some Iron Crosses, and some pictures of the men in my unit, and—let’s see now, what else? We just might find a German officer’s helmet with a metal spike on top, and my old khaki uniform with the puttees. Have you ever seen puttees? Those were something! Trying to wrap those puttees around your legs when you were in a hurry.”
“What kind of bayonets?”
“All kinds. French. German. American. The French bayonet still has traces of blood in the grooves.”
“Where’d you get it?”
“I bought it from a French poilu.”
“Can we look now?”
“No, no! Not now,” Mr. Bridge said, laughing.
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t feel like opening my trunk right now. Those things will keep. I’ll show them to you some day, because you’ve promised me you are not going to touch this pistol again. Are we clear about that?” And when Douglas nodded he went on, “Very well. Now I’m going to replace this exactly where it was. It will always be here. At some future date, when you are a grown man, it will belong to you.”
“To keep?”
“To keep. But guns are not meant for boys.”
“You don’t need to tell me five hundred times.”
“I want to make sure there is no confusion about this. I do not want any possible misunderstanding about this. I assume Harriet found the gun while she was changing the sheets, but she had no business showing it to you. I am going to speak to her about it. In the meantime, there is no sense mentioning this to your sisters.”
“Don’t worry,” Douglas said. “They wouldn’t know which end the bullets come out of.”
“You aren’t to touch these cartridges again.”
“I heard you the first time. I’m not going to touch them with a ten-foot pole.”
“All right. We understand one another.”
“When are you going to show me what’s in the trunk?”
“That depends on your behavior,” Mr. Bridge said.
He lifted a corner of the mattress and laid the gun on the springs while his son watched attentively.