Read Online From Here to Eternity by James Jones - Free Book Online Page A

He paused and stared at Prewitt sternly, and crossed his booted legs whose spurs jangled punctuation to the warning. Capt Holmes was warming to his subject. Here, said the long boned, eagle's face to Prew, is a soldier who is not afraid to talk to his men in their own language, who does not mince the words, and who understands his men. "I have," he said, "a damned fine smoothrunning outfit. I do not allow anything to bitch it up. But - if a man does his work, and keeps his nose clean, does as I say, he'll get along. Plenty of room for advancement here, because in this organization there is no favoritism. I make it my business to see that each man gets just what he earns. No more, no less. "You start with a clean slate, Prewitt. What you do with it is up to you. "Understood?" "Yes, Sir," Prew said. "Good," said Capt Holmes, and nodded sternly. Milt Warden, at his own desk, was watching the progress of this conference that was not new to him with acumen. Crap! cried the king, he thought, and twenty thousand royal subjects squatted and strained, for in those days the king's word was law! His face straight, he grinned at Prew with his eyebrows, and a devilish pixy peered out from behind his face with unholy glee. 'To get a rating in my Company," Capt Holmes was saying sternly, "a man has got to know his stuff. He has to soldier. He has to show me he's got it on the ball." He looked up sharply. "Understood?" "Yes, Sir," Prew said. "Good," said Capt Holmes. "Understood. Its always important for an officer and his men to understand each other." Then he pushed his chair back and smiled at Prewitt, handsomely. "Glad to have you aboard, Prewitt," he smiled, "as our colleagues in the navy say. I can always use a good man in my outfit and I'm glad to have you." "Thank you, Sir," Prew said. "How would you like to be my Company bugler, temporarily?" Holmes paused to light himself a cigaret. "I saw your fight with Connors of the 8th Field in the Bowl last year," he said. "A damned fine show. Damned fine. With any luck you should have won it. I thought for a while in there, in the second round, you were going to knock him out." "Thank you, Sir," Prew said. Capt Holmes was talking almost joyously now. Here it comes, Prew told himself; well, bud, you asked for it, now figure it out. Figure it out yourself, he thought. Better yet, just let him figure it out. "If I'd known you were in the Regiment last December when the season started I'd have looked you up," Holmes smiled. Prew said nothing. On his left he could feel, not hear, The Warden snorting softly with disgust as he began to study a sheaf of papers with the elaborate I'm-not-with-him air of a sober man whose friend is drunk. "I can use a good bugler, Prewitt," Holmes smiled. "My regular Company bugler hasnt the experience. And his apprentice only has his job because he's such a fuckup I was afraid he'd shoot somebody on a problem." He laughed and looked at Prew, inviting him to join it. Milt Warden, who was the one who had suggested Salvatore Clark for the apprentice bugler, after Clark almost shot himself on guard, went on studying his papers, but his eyebrows quivered. "A Pfc rating goes with the job," Holmes said to Prew. "I'll have Sergeant Warden post the order, first thing tomorrow." He waited then, but Prew said nothing, watching the dry ironic sunlight coming through the open window, wondering how long now it would take him to catch on, unable to believe that they had not heard it all before, and feeling how his uniform that had been fresh at eight o'clock was damp and musty now with sweat, beginning to be soaked. "I realize," Holmes smiled indulgently, "a Pfc isnt very much, but our TO quota of noncoms is all filled up. We have two noncoms who are shorttimers though," he said. "They'll be leaving on next month's boat. "Its too bad the season's almost over or you could start training this afternoon, but the schedule ends the last of February. But then," he smiled, "if you dont