The Naked and the Dead - Norman Mailer [350]
There were eight rations left: three cheeses, two ham and eggs, and three beef and pork loafs. He knew he would never eat them; they were merely an added load in his pack. Aaah, fug this. He took out the ration cartons, slit the tops off each with his knife and separated the candy and cigarettes from the food tins, the crackers. He was about to throw the food away when he realized that some of the men might want it. He thought of asking, but he had an image of passing from man to man with the cans in his hand, having them jeer at him. Aaah, fug 'em, he decided, it's none of their goddam business anyway. He threw the food into some weeds a few feet behind him. For a time he sat there, so enraged that his heart was beating powerfully, and then he relaxed and began to make up his pack. That'll be lighter anyhow, he told himself, and his rage began again. Fug the Army anyhow, fug the goddam mother-fuggin Army. That stuff ain't fit for a pig. He was breathing very quickly once more. Kill and be killed for this lousy goddam food. So many images blurred in his mind, the mills where they stamped and pressured and cooked the food that went into the tins, the dull thwopping sound of a bullet striking a man, even Roth's shout.
Aaah, fug the whole goddam mess. If they can't feed a man, then fug 'em, fug 'em all. He was trembling so badly he had to sit down and rest.
He had to face the truth. The Army had licked him. He had always gone along believing that if they pushed him around too much he would do something when the time came. And now. . .
He had talked to Polack yesterday, and they had both hinted about Hearn, both let it lay. He knew what he could do, and if he skipped out on it he was yellow. Martinez wanted them to go back. Since he had tried to convince Croft, Martinez must know something.
By now the sun was shining brightly on their slope, and the dark-purple shadows of the mountain had lightened to lavender and blue. He squinted upward toward the peak. They still had a morning's climb ahead of them, and then what? They would drop down among the Japs and be wiped out. They could never come back over the mountain again. On an impulse he walked over to Martinez, who was fixing his pack.
Red hesitated for an instant. Nearly all the men were ready, and Croft would shout at him if he delayed. He still had to put his blanket in his pack.
Aaah, fug him, Red thought again, ashamed and angry.
Before Martinez he paused, uncertain what to say. "How you doin', Japbait?"
"Okay."
"You and Croft couldn't work it out for a little while, huh?"
"Nothing the matter." Martinez averted his eyes.
Red lit a cigarette, disgusted with what he was doing. "Japbait, you're kind of chicken. You want to quit and you ain't even got the guts to say so."
Martinez made no answer.
"Listen, Japbait, we been around quite a while, we know what the hell the fuggin score is. You think it's gonna be fun goin' up that hill today? We're gonna have a coupla more men droppin' off on one of those ledges, maybe you, maybe me."
"Leave me alone," Martinez muttered.
"Let's face it, Japbait, even if we do get over, we'll just get a leg or an arm blown off on the other side. You want to stop a slug?" Even as he argued Red was bothered by a sense of shame. There was another way to do this.
"You want to be a cripple?"
Martinez shook his head.
The arguments filed naturally into Red's mind. "You killed that Jap, didn't ya? Did ya ever know that brings your number a little closer?"
This was a powerful point to Martinez. "I don't know, Red."
"You killed that Jap, but did you say a goddam thing about it?"
"Yah."
"Hearn knew about it, huh, he walked into that pass knowing there was Japs?"
"Yah." Martinez began to shake. "I tell him, I try tell him, big damn fool."
"Balls."
"No."
Red was not completely certain. He paused, took another tack. "You know that sword I got with the jewels back at Motome? If you want, you can have it."
"Oh." The