Young Lonigan - James T. Farrell [112]
more of her because then he might dream of her and something might happen in the dream and Dough-boy Studs Lonigan, wearing a steel helmet, his bayonetted gun levelled, crossed No Man’s Land Over There, one of the rum-tum-tumming Yanks who were advancing. Star shells flared. Shells fell all around him. Machine gun bullets whizzed by his ear. He stepped over corpses. He leaped into the German trenches and suddenly discovered that he was alone, and that the Germans, the whole German Army, brutes, every one of them looking like the fat man with drooping mustaches in the Charlie Chaplin pictures, came at him. They came slowly forwards, goose-stepping, bayonets pointed. He backed into a corner, prepared to pay dearly for his life, terrified into courage by abject fear. And suddenly, all of a sudden in a funny goddamn way that he couldn’t understand, there were no Germans, only Old Man Death, wrinkled and creaky, coming at him with a scythe to which there hung a skull and cross-bones. And every time he breathed, ice floated out of his mouth. Studs cowered, prayed to the Blessed Virgin Mary. He turned and ran. He looked behind, and there was Old Man Death coming, an even steadiness in his tread. He realized that Old Man Death was The Rose of No Man’s Land, and he ran the swifter, it seemed for miles and miles, and turned, thinking that he had escaped, and there was The Rose of No Man’s Land, still coming, even, steady, breathing chunks of ice, carrying his scythe. Sweating, he turned and ran through fields and towns back to the eighth grade classroom of St. Patrick’s Grammar School, and there he found Lucy Scanlan in a nun’s garb, teaching the class. He took his seat. Down the hall, he heard the heavy steps of The Rose of No Man’s Land and then Studs Lonigan was in the cockpit of an airplane, flying over France, surrounded by German planes. He took a nose dive, and headed straight into one German plane, waiting until he could see the aviator’s face. It was the face of grandma. He shot once, and down the plane went in flames. He climbed a cloud, and above it, headed for a second plane, saw that the aviator in it had the face of the girl on the elevated train, shot one machine-gun bullet and smiled with ecstasy while it went down in flames. He looped the loop and went for another German plane, controlled by an aviator with the face of Lucy Scanlan. He shot it down in ecstasy with one machine-gun bullet. He shot down another, and another, and another, and Ace Lonigan ruled the sky. He turned around, headed for the landing field, tired, as he coasted downwards, gently bringing his plane to the ground. He was met by Father Gilhooley of St. Patrick’s parish, President Wilson, and Abe Lincoln, all of them holding aloft a phallicshaped medal. He got out of the plane, prepared to accept his glory and Studs awoke, and outside it was a gray November morning. He was lassitudinous in a mood of letdown, already lonesome for yesterday. He hummed Over There and nostalgia crushed him. The thought that the war was over struck him almost like an unexpected club on the head. All along, he’d thought he’d get into it and become a great hero, and back when it had started, he’d been excited. But after eating those bananas, it had got more natural, and he’d gone along doing all the things he’d been doing, just the same. But it had made life more exciting, and then, in a way, it had all been worth yesterday. Now, he’d have to figure out what he’d do with himself. He could go to work for the old man, or try and get a job, or go back to high school and become a famous football player. He knew he could, but he couldn’t stand school. He wondered what the hell he could do for himself. He lay in bed a long time.
Finally he got up, washed and went to breakfast. The old man asked him what he was going to do, and Studs said look for a job. Fran butted her nose into the picture and said she didn’t believe him, and thought he’d go and hang around those awful bums in the poolroom. His old man said he didn’t want him hanging around no poolroom. The old lady said he