Young Lonigan - James T. Farrell [103]
“Come on, Kenny. We need you with us. And we ain’t beefing,” persuaded Studs.
Red handed Kenny a banana. Kenny took it with a pout. They nibbled their bananas, and sipped water, almost by drops.
“Say, it’s gettin’ late. We better be going,” said Studs.
“I was thinkin’ that too. Only there’s more bananas. And we don’t want to get rejected,” said Red.
“I’m going,” said Kenny.
“Come on, just a few more. We want to make sure,” said Red.
“But listen, Red, if we don’t get in, we can come back and try it again,” said Studs.
“Not this boy,” said Kenny.
They sat there, each taking another, gazing at it long. They finally agreed to go. They left the basket, still about half full, and the basement floor was a litter of banana peels.
“How you feel?” asked Red.
“Ask me another, wise guy,” said Kenny; they laughed.
“It wasn’t so bad,” said Studs.
He saw that Red was white. Red noticed that Kenny was pale. Kenny observed that Studs didn’t look so hot. They walked very slowly. It was a job, climbing up the back stairs of the elevated station, to gyp the elevated company. On the train, they did more hiccoughing than talking. People noticed them and suppressed smiles. Suddenly, Kenny lit for the rear platform. Studs and Red followed. They stood by themselves, looking at the tracks as if sightless, while the train sped downtown. They got off at State and Congress and found a marine recruiting station, with a picture of Uncle Sam pleading, and pointing to a Hun in the background. Over it were the words: “He Needs You.”
“I guess Uncle Sam needs us all right,” Red said.
Studs nodded.
“Kilarney only needs some Pluto Water,” Kenny said.
Their smiles were sickly.
“Well, here goes,” Red said.
He stepped up to a beefy-faced, hard-boiled sergeant. Studs and Kilarney stood by him.
“We came to join up.”
The tow-headed sergeant took one look at them, and laughed. They hiccoughed, almost trembled.
“Sure, we’re keepin’ a little date with the Kaiser,” Kenny said.
The sergeant let fly a gob of tobacco juice.
“G’wan home, children, and get your diapers pinned on!”
They trooped off.
“The bastard,” said Red.
“We should have socked him,” Studs said, and Red nodded.
“If we did, all he would have had to do was touch my belly. I’d have blown up like a balloon,” Kenny said.
“We could have mobbed him, and cleaned him too, only for the bananas,” Studs said.
“That’s what I thought. As soon as we feel better, I say we come down and lay for him. We’ll get him,” Red said.
“How about the navy?” asked Studs.
“That’s an idea,” Red said, without interest.
They started out for a naval recruiting station. On the way they passed a burlesque show with advertisements flaunting pictures of seminude girls. Studs had money. They went to the show.
III
Aloof and alone, his stomach like a lump of lead, Studs stood on the sidewalk by the vacant lot near Fifty-eighth and Indiana.
In the prairie, the Indiana punks were in two trenches facing each other, and exuberantly warring with sand-filled tin cans. The nearer trench was a wide hole, partly covered with a piece of tar paper, and protected by earthworks of sand, heavy stones, and grocery boxes. The farther trench was long and narrow, and connected by a communication trench with a shallow reserve trench. In front of it was a deep hole, dug as an observation post.
Studs wondered where they could have collected so many cans. He sneered. Only for that goddamn recruiting sergeant, he wouldn’t have to watch punks in short pants have an imitation war. He couldn’t forget that lousy, tow-headed marine. They ought to go back and jump the bastard.
“G’wan home, children, and get your diapers pinned on!”
He belched. And last night had been just like a nightmare. They ought to go back, all right, and jump him.
Andy Le Gare and Danny O’Neill rose from the farther trench, holding, between them, a five-gallon oil can that was heavy with sand. They maneuvered into position to heave it. Dick Buckford rose from a nearer trench, and whacked Andy in the arm with a can. Andy let out a yell, dropped the can