The Naked and the Dead - Norman Mailer [186]
When his breakfast came, he was unable to touch it. He sat there musing; he knew he could not bear another day in the hospital. He wished he was back with the platoon. Anything to get out of here.
The doctor came, and Minetta watched him quietly while he stripped the bandages from his leg. The cut was entirely healed except for the line of pink new flesh; the doctor smeared a red antiseptic over it, and did not replace the bandages. Minetta's heart was beating rapidly. His head felt hollow and quivering.
The sound of his voice surprised him. "Hey, doc, when am I gonna get out?"
"What's that?"
"I don't know, I woke up this morning. Where am I?" Minetta smiled with bewilderment. "I remember I was in another tent with my leg, and now I'm here. What's the score?"
The doctor looked at him quietly. Minetta forced himself to stare back; in spite of every effort, he ended by grinning weakly.
"What's your name?" the doctor asked.
"Minetta." He gave his serial number. "Can I get out today, doc?"
"Yes."
Minetta felt a mixture of relief and disappointment. At that moment he wished for a second that he had remained quiet.
"Oh, and, Minetta, after you get dressed, I want to talk to you." The doctor turned, and then said over his shoulder, "Don't skip out. That's an order, I want to talk to you."
"Yes, sir." Minetta shrugged. What's up? he wondered. He was feeling a little glee now as he thought of how easily he had managed it. All you got to do is think fast and you can get away with anything. He put on his clothing, which had been wrapped in a ball at the head of the cot, and slipped into his shoes. The sun was not yet too hot, and he felt cheerful. That wasn't for me, he thought, I can't go this staying on your back all the time. He looked at the cot where the soldier had died, and shrugged to overcome a quiver of anxiety. A guy's lucky to get out. He remembered abruptly the patrolling that had taken place yesterday, and was depressed. I hope they don't send the platoon on something. He wondered if he had made a mistake.
After he dressed, he felt hungry, and he went over to the hospital's mess tent and talked to the first cook. "You wouldn't send a guy back to the lines without a breakfast in his belly, would ya?" he asked.
"Awright, awright, take something, then." Minetta wolfed down the rubbery remains of the scrambled powdered eggs, and drank a little of the lukewarm coffee still remaining in a ten-gallon boiler. The chlorine in it was very strong, and he made a wry face. Might as well drink iodine, he thought.
He clapped the cook on the back. "Thanks, bud," he said, "I wish they cooked as good as this in our outfit."
"Yeah."
Minetta collected his rifle and helmet from the hospital supply sergeant and strolled over to the doctor's tent. "You wanted to see me, doc?" he asked.
"Yes." Minetta sat down on a folding chair.
"Stand up!" the doctor said. He looked coldly at Minetta.
"Sir?"
"Minetta, the Army's got no use for men like you. That gag you pulled was pretty low."
"I don't know what you're talking about, sir." Minetta's voice had a meek irony.
"Don't give me any of your lip," the doctor snapped. "I'd have you court-martialed if it didn't take too long, and if it wasn't just what you wanted anyway."
Minetta was silent. He could feel his face reddening, and he stood there tense and enraged; he wished he could kill the doctor.
"Answer me!"
"YES, SIR!"
"You pull that trick again, and I'll see to it personally that you get ten years for it. I'm sending a note to your CO to put you on company duty for a week."
Minetta tried to look disdainful. He swallowed once, and then said, "Why're you discriminating against me, sir?"
"Shut your mouth."
Minetta glared at him. "That all you want, doc?" he asked at last.
"Get out of here. If you come back, you better have a hole through your belly."
Minetta stalked out sullenly. He was quivering with rage. Goddam fuggin officers,