The Naked and the Dead - Norman Mailer [233]
"Good part of the country," he agreed. He was moody and had no desire to talk to Brown any longer. After a minute or two, he mumbled something and went over to Croft.
Brown turned around and looked about him. Polack had been sprawled a few feet away from them during the conversation. His eyes were closed now, and Brown gave him a little nudge. "You sleeping, Polack?"
"Uh?" Polack sat up and yawned. "Yeah, I t'ink I dropped off." Actually he had been wide awake, had been listening to them. He always obtained a subtle gratification from eavesdropping; while he seldom expected to receive any immediate profit, Polack usually found it amusing. "That's the only way to get a line on a guy," he had said once to Minetta. Now he yawned again. "Naw, I been gettin' some shut-eye. What, are we hittin' the trail again?"
"Coupla minutes, I guess," Brown said. He had sensed Martinez's scorn, and it left him uncomfortable, anxious to regain his poise. He stretched out beside Polack and offered him a cigarette.
"Naaah, I'm savin' me wind," Polack told him. "We got a long way to go."
"That's no lie," Brown agreed. "You know, I been trying to keep my squad out of patrols, but maybe it wasn't such a good idea. You're out of condition now." He was not conscious of exaggerating. At the moment Brown believed himself, and mused with self-approbation how he protected his squad.
"It was okay, keepin' us out. We appreciate it," Polack said. To himself, he thought, What a crock of shit! Brown entertained him. There's always that kind of guy, Polack thought. Act like a prick to get the stripes, and then when he's got them he starts worrying whether you think he's a right Joe or not. He held his long pointed chin in his hand, brushed his mop of blond straight hair off his forehead. "That's a fac'," Polack said. "You t'ink the boys in your squad don't appreciate the deals you get us. We know you're okay."
Brown was pleased despite his doubts of Polack's sincerity. "I'll tell you, I'll be frank with you," he said. "You been in the platoon a couple months and I've had my eye on you. You're a pretty smart apple, Polack, and you know to keep your mouth shut."
Polack shrugged. "I'm all right."
"You take the job I've got. I gotta keep you men happy. You may not know it, but that's even in the manual, right there in black and white. I figure if I look out for my men they'll look out for me."
"Sure, we're right behind ya." The way Polack looked at it, you were a goddam fool if you didn't say what your boss wanted you to say.
Brown was fumbling for something. "There's lots of ways a noncom can be a sonofabitch, but I'd rather treat my men right."
What the hell does he want out of me? Polack thought. "It's the only way to be," he said.
"Yeah, but a lot of noncoms don't know that. The responsibility can get you down. You don't know the kind of worries there are. I'm not saying I don't want to have 'em, 'cause the truth of the matter is you gotta plug if you wanta get ahead. There's no short cuts."
"Naah." Polack scratched himself.
"You take Stanley. He's too smart for his own good. You know he pulled a pretty slick deal in a garage he was at." Brown told Polack the story, and finished by saying, "That's smart enough, but you just get in trouble that way. You got to stick to something and take the headaches as they come."
"Sure." Polack decided he'd underrated