U.S.A_ - John Dos Passos [192]
under Joe's arm and opened it, looked relieved when he saw it didn't have a bomb in it and dumped everything out on the desk. "So you pretend to be an American?" the man yel ed at Joe. "Sure I'm an American," said Joe.
"What the hel do you want to come to England in war-time for?""I didn't want to come to .
. .""Shut up." the man yel ed.
Then he motioned to the bobbies to go, and said, "Send in Corporal Eakins.""Very good, sir," said the two bob-bies respectful y in unison. When they'd gone, he came towards Joe with his fists clenched again. "You might as wel make a clean breast of it, my lad. . . . We have al the necessary information."
Joe had to keep his teeth clenched to keep them from chattering. He was scared.
"I was on the beach in B.A. you see . . . had to take the first berth I could get. You don't think anybody'd ship on a limejuicer if they could help it, do you?" Joe was getting sore; he felt warm again.
The plainclothes man took up a pencil and tapped with it threateningly on the desk.
"Impudence won't help you, my lad . . . you'd better keep a civil tongue in your head." Then he began looking over the photographs and stamps and newspaper clippings that had come out of Joe's cigarbox. Two men in khaki came in. "Strip him and search him," the man at the desk said without look-ing up.
-34-Joe looked at the two men without understanding; they had a little the look of hospital orderlies. "Sharp now," one of them said. "We don't want to 'ave to use force." Joe took off his shirt. It made him sore that he was blushing; he was ashamed because he didn't have any underwear. "Al right, breeches next." Joe stood naked in his slippers while the men in khaki went through his shirt and pants. They found a bunch of clean waste in one pocket, a battered Prince Albert can with a piece of chewing tobacco in it and a smal jackknife with a broken blade. One of them was examining the belt and pointed out to the other the place where it had been resewed. He slit it up with a knife and they both looked eagerly inside. Joe grinned, "I used to keep my bil s in there," he said. They kept their faces stiff.
"Open your mouth." One of them put a heavy hand on Joe's jaw. "Sergeant, shal we take out the fil in's? 'E's got two or three fil in's in the back of 'is mouth." The man behind the desk shook his head. One of the men
stepped out of the door and came back with an oiled rub-ber glove on his hand. "Lean hover," said the other man, putting his hand on Joe's neck and shoving his head down while the man with the rubber glove felt in his rectum.
"Hay, for Chris' sake," hissed Joe through his teeth.
"Al right, me lad, that's al for the present," said the man who held his head, letting go.
"Sorry, but we 'ave to do it . . . part of the regulations." The corporal walked up to the desk and stood at
attention. "Al right, sir . . . Nothin' of interest on the prisoner's person." Joe was terribly cold. He couldn't keep his teeth from chattering.
"Look in his slippers, can't you?" growled the inspec-tor. Joe didn't like handing over his slippers because his feet were dirty, but there was nothing he could do. The corporal slashed them to pieces with his penknife. Then
-35-both men stood at attention and waited for the inspector to lift his eye. "Al right, sir . .
. nothin' to report. Shal I get the prisoner a blanket, sir? 'E looks chil y." The man behind the desk shook his head and beckoned to Joe, "Come over here. Now are you ready to answer truthful y and give us no trouble it won't be worse than a concentraytion camp for duraytion. . . . But if you give us trouble I can't say how serious it mightn't be. We're under the Defence of the Realm Act, don't forget
that. . . . What's your name?"
After Joe had told his name, birthplace, father's and mother's names, names, of ships he'd sailed on, the inspec-tor suddenly shot a question in German at him. Joe shook his head, "Hay, what do you think I know German for?"
"Shut the bugger up. . . . We know al about him anyway."
"Shal we give him 'is kit, sir?" asked one