The Naked and the Dead - Norman Mailer [302]
Instead of turning left at the trail and following it out of the grove into the shadow, he stepped past the machine gun into the clearing, and crept from rock to rock until he reached the protection of the cliff. He stared back a last time at the grove and then continued on down the pass.
As he moved along he was bothered by a double sense of disappointment and frustration. He had turned back before he had to, and this bothered him. Instinctively, he was wondering how to change the story so that he would satisfy Croft. But more directly, more painfully, he was thinking with regret how easy it would have been to have taken the wrist watch. Now that he was out of the grove, he was disgusted with himself for having been afraid to linger. He thought of the things he could have done. Besides the watch he could have retrieved the knife (he had forgotten about it when he looked at the soldier) or he could have jammed the machine gun by putting a handful of dirt in the bolt. He thought with amusement of how their faces would have looked, and realized with a shock how terrified they would be when they discovered the dead man.
He smiled. Goddam, good ol' Martinez, hoping that Croft would say the same thing.
In less than an hour he reached the platoon again, and gave his account to Croft. The only change he made was to say that there was no way to slip by the second bivouac.
Croft nodded. "You had to kill that Jap, huh?"
"Yes."
Croft shook his head. "Wish you hadn't. That'll stir 'em up from here to Jap headquarters." He thought for a moment, and said pensively, "I don't know, you never can say what's gonna come out."
Martinez sighed. "Goddam, no think of that." He was too tired now to feel any deep regret, but as he lay down on his bedding he wondered how many more mistakes he would discover in the next few days. "Goddam, tired," he said to rouse Croft's sympathy.
"Yeah, I guess you had a rough go." Croft laid his hand on Martinez's shoulder, gripped it fiercely. "Don't say a damn word to the Lootenant. You went clear through the pass without seeing a damn thing, y' understand?"
Martinez was puzzled. "Okay, you say so."
"That's it, you're a good boy, Japbait."
Martinez smiled lazily. In three minutes he was asleep.
8
Hearn woke up feeling quite rested the next morning. He twisted around in his blankets and watched the sun rising over the eastern hills, which were becoming distinct now, seeming to rise like rocks from water. Everywhere the dawn mists were settling in the hollows and valleys, and he felt as if he could see a great distance, almost to the eastern end of the island a hundred miles away.
About him the others also were awakening; Croft and Goldstein were rolling their blankets, and one or two of them were returning from the weeds. Hearn sat up, stretched his toes inside his shoes, and debated idly for a minute or two whether to change his socks. He had taken another pair, which now also were soiled, and he shrugged and then decided it was not worth the trouble. Instead, he began putting on his leggings.
Red was muttering near him. "When is the goddam Army gonna learn another way to make leggings?" He was struggling with a lace which had shrunk during the night.
"I've heard they've got a high shoe coming in soon like a paratrooper's boot. It'll do away with leggings."
Red rubbed his chin. He had not shaved since the patrol had begun and his beard was blond and rather splotchy. "We'll never see any of them," Red told him, "the fuggin quartermaster'll keep 'em all."
"Well. . ." Hearn grinned. The crabapple. Of all the men in the platoon, Red was the one worth buddying with, the wise one. Only you couldn't approach him.
On an impulse, Hearn said, "Listen, Valsen. . ."
"Yeah?"
"We're short a corporal; two, now that Stanley's with Wilson. You want to be acting jack for the rest of the patrol? And