The Naked and the Dead - Norman Mailer [267]
In the grove while they were cutting the stretcher poles, Roth found a bird. It was a tiny thing, smaller than a sparrow, with soft dun-colored feathers and a crippled wing, and it hopped about slowly, chirping piteously, as if very tired. "Oh, look at that," Roth said.
"What?" Minetta asked.
"That bird." Roth dropped his machete and approached it warily, clucking with his tongue. The bird made a little beeping sound, ducking its head to one side like a shy girl. "Ah, look at that, it's hurt," Roth said. He extended his hand, and when the bird didn't move, he grasped it. "Aw, what's the matter," he said to it softly, lisping a little as if talking to an infant or a dog. The bird strained in his hand, tried to flutter away, and then subsided, its tiny eyes examining his fingers fearfully.
"Hey, let's see it," Polack demanded.
"Leave it alone, it's frightened," Roth whined. He turned away to hide it from the others, holding it a few inches from his face. He made little kissing sounds. "What's the matter, baby?"
"Aaah, for Christ's sake," Minetta muttered. "Come on, let's go back." They had finished trimming the poles, and he and Polack each picked up one of them, while Wyman gathered the two crosspieces and the machetes. They strolled back toward the hollow, Roth following with the bird.
"What the hell took you men so long?" Croft snapped.
"We did it fast as we could, Sergeant," Wyman said meekly.
Croft snorted. "All right, come on, let's make the stretcher." He took Wilson's blanket, spread it out smoothly on top of his poncho, and then laid the poles along each side, parallel and about four feet apart. He flipped the blanket and poncho over each pole, and then they began rolling it up like a scroll, tightening it as much as possible. The struts were notched at each end, and when the poles were about twenty inches apart, he slipped the struts in place, one at each end, about six inches from the tips. Then he took his belt and Wilson's and lashed them in a loop about each strut to make it secure. When he had done he picked up the stretcher and dropped it again. It held together, but he was not satisfied. "Give me the belt to your pants," he told them. He worked busily for a few minutes and when he had done, the stretcher was a rectangle formed by the two poles and the two struts, with the blanket and poncho substituting for a canvas. Underneath them, the belts were fastened diagonally like stays to keep the stretcher poles from shearing. "I think that oughta hold," he muttered. He frowned and looked up to see most of the platoon gathered in a circle about Roth.
Roth was completely absorbed in the bird. Each time it would open its tiny beak and try to bite his finger, he would feel a protective pang. Its jaws were so weak. Its entire body would flutter and vibrate from the effort, and yet there was hardly any pressure at all on his finger. In his hand, its body was warm with a delicate musky odor, reminiscent of face powder. Despite himself he would bring the bird up to his nose and sniff it, touching his lips against its soft feathers. Its eyes were so bright and alert. Roth had fallen in love with the bird immediately. It was lovely. And all the frustrated affection he had stored for months seemed to pour out toward the bird. He fondled it, breathed its bouquet, examined its injured wing, filled with tenderness toward it. He felt exactly the same joy he knew when his child had plucked at the hairs on his chest. And back of it, not quite conscious, he was also enjoying the interest of the men who had crowded around him to look. For once he was the focus of attention.
He could not have picked a worse time to antagonize Croft.
Croft was sweating