The Naked and the Dead - Norman Mailer [212]
That night when they congratulate each other Cummings is satisfied.
But Margaret ruins it; she has a facility for ruining things now. You know, honestly, Edward, I wonder what the point to it all was, you can't get promoted any faster, and the old fart (she has taken to swearing mildly) will be dead by the time it's a question of recommending you for general's rank.
You have to start your reputation early, he says quickly. He has accepted all these mores, forced himself dutifully into them, but he does not like them to be questioned.
Oh, what a perfectly vague thing to say. You know I'm feeling now as if we were silly to have invited him. It would have been much more fun without him.
Fun? (This hits at the core of him, leaves him actually weak with anger.) There are more important things than fun. He feels as if he has closed a door behind him.
You're in danger of becoming a bore.
Let it go, he almost shouts, and she subsides before his rage. But there it is between them, stated again.
I don't know what gets into you, he mutters.
There are other movements, other directions. For a time he moves through the drinking circles of the officers' club, plays poker, and indulges in a few side affairs. But it is a repetition of Margaret with humiliating endings, and in another year or two he keeps to himself, devotes himself to running his outfits.
In that he has talent. He absorbs the problem completely, thinks at night in bed of how best to treat the different men, how to command them most effectively. In the daytime he spends nearly all his time with the company, supervising labor details, conducting continual inspections. His companies are always the best managed on the post; his company street is easily the cleanest and neatest.
On Saturday mornings a squad from each platoon is put to work cutting the weeds from under the barracks.
He has all the patent brass polishers tested, selects the best, and has an order posted that the men can use only that brand.
In the daily latrine inspections he is always one step ahead of the men; one morning he gets down on his hands and knees, lifts the drain plate, and gigs the platoon because there is grease in the pipe.
When he inspects he brings a needle, probes the cracks on the stairs for dust.
In the gymkhana which the post holds every summer his company teams always win. He has them practicing from the first of February.
The company mess floor is scrubbed with boiling water after every meal.
He is always ahead of the men. One big Saturday inspection when a visiting general is expected, he instructs his first sergeant to have the men grease the soles of their extra shoes, which are exhibited at the foot of their bed.
He has been known to strip a rifle on the parade ground and examine the rear of the hammer spring for dirt.
There is always a standing gag in his company that the Old Man is thinking of having the men take off their shoes before they enter the barracks.
The field officers are agreed that Captain Cummings is the best junior officer on the post.
On a visit to her family in Boston, Margaret is questioned. You're not planning any children yet?
No, I don't think so, she laughs. I'm afraid to. Edward would probably have him scrubbing the bassinette.
Don't you think seven years now is a long time?
Oh, it is, I suppose. I really don't know.
It's not a good idea to wait too long.
Margaret sighs. Men are very odd, positively odd. You always think they're one thing and they turn out to be another.
Her aunt purses her thin mouth. I've always felt, Margaret, that you'd have done better to have married someone we know.
That's an awfully stuffy idea. Edward is going to be a great general. All we need is a war, and I'll feel just like Josephine.
(The shrewd look.) There's no need to be flippant, Margaret. I had expected that marriage in all this time might have made you more. .