The Naked and the Dead - Norman Mailer [148]
Polack grinned. "You want to know why Gallagher feels bad?"
"I know."
"No, you don't. There was a cousin of mine whose wife got killed in an accident. Jesus, you shoulda seen the way he carried on. For what? For a dame? I tried to talk to him, I said to him, 'Listen, what the hell are you lettin' go all that water for? There's lots of dames. In six mont's you'll be shackin' up again an' you won't even remember what this one looked like.' He looks at me and starts bawlin', 'Oh, oh, oh,' and I try to tell him again. So what does he say to me?" Polack paused.
"All right, what?"
"He says, 'Six mont's hell, what am I gonna do for tonight?' "
In spite of himself, Minetta laughed. "You expect me to believe that?"
Polack shrugged, and picked up a box. "What do I care if ya believe it. I'm tellin' ya, that's all." He began to walk. "Hey, you know what time it is?"
"Two o'clock."
Polack sighed. "Two more hours of this crap." He trudged through the sand. "Wait, I'll tell ya about this dame that wrote a book," he said.
At three o'clock the platoon took its last break of the afternoon. Stanley sprawled out on the sand beside Brown and offered him a cigarette. "Go ahead, you might as well take one, I'm supporting you on cigarettes anyway."
Brown groaned, stretching his arms. "I'm getting old. I'll tell you what, a man can't do the kind of work he's capable of out in this tropical heat."
"Why don't you just admit you're goofing off?" A change had come about in Stanley's attitude toward Brown since he had made corporal. He no longer agreed with Brown completely, and he bantered with him much more frequently. "You'll be like Roth in another week," he said.
"Up yours."
"It's all right, sergeant, I'm on to you." Stanley had not noticed the change in himself. During the first months he had been in the platoon he had been painfully alert, he had never said anything without thinking or feeling what its purpose would be, he had selected his friendships with care, and he had felt his way through the filter of Brown's likes and dislikes. Without ever analyzing it carefully, he had subtly formed Brown's attitude toward men about whom Brown originally had not much opinion. In turn Stanley found it politic to like the men of whom Brown spoke approvingly. Yet he never phrased all this to himself; he knew he had wanted to make corporal, but he never admitted it to himself. He merely obeyed the hints and the anxieties that his mind generated in relation with Brown.
Brown had understood him, had laughed at him secretly, but Brown ended by recommending him for corporal. Without realizing it, Brown had found himself dependent on Stanley, warmed by his admiration and respect, by his complete interest in everything Brown had to say. Brown had always thought, Stanley's brown-nosing me, and I'm on to him, yet when Croft had talked to him about making a corporal, Brown had been unable to think of anyone but Stanley. There were objections to all the others; he had forgotten the source of his contempt for some of the other men they were considering, but it had been originated by Stanley. To his surprise, he had found himself praising Stanley to Croft.
Afterward, as Stanley grew accustomed to giving orders, the change became apparent. His voice developed authority, he began to bully the men who displeased him, and he approached Brown with easy familiarity. Again, without ever thinking of it articulately, he knew that Brown could not help him any longer; he would remain a corporal until one of the sergeants was wounded or killed. At first he had continued to show deference to Brown, continued to agree with him, but he had become conscious of his hypocrisy, a little uncomfortable with it. Now he noticed when Brown was obviously inaccurate. He began to state his own opinions. In time he had begun to boast.
Now Stanley exhaled leisurely, and repeated, "Yep, you're getting just like Roth." Brown made no answer, and Stanley spat.