Three Soldiers by John Dos Passos (best e book reader android .txt) đ
- Author: John Dos Passos
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âGod, itâs hell not to have a gun,â muttered Meadville as he settled himself on the deck again. âDâye know, sonny, I nearly cried when I found I was going to be in this damn medical corps? I enlisted for the tanks. This is the first time in my life I havenât had a gun. I even think I had one in my cradle.â
âThatâs funny,â said Fuselli.
The sergeant appeared suddenly in the middle of the group, his face red.
âSay, fellers,â he said in a low voice, âgo down anâ straighten out the bunks as fast as you goddam can. Theyâre having an inspection. Itâs a hell of a note.â
They all filed down the gang planks into the foul-smelling hold, where there was no light but the invariable reddish glow of electric bulbs. They had hardly reached their bunks when someone called, âAttention!â
Three officers stalked by, their firm important tread a little disturbed by the rolling. Their heads were stuck forward and they peered from side to side among the bunks with the cruel, searching glance of hens looking for worms.
âFuselli,â said the first sergeant, âbring up the record book to my stateroom; 213 on the lower deck.â
âAll right, Sarge,â said Fuselli with alacrity. He admired the first sergeant and wished he could imitate his jovial, domineering manner.
It was the first time he had been in the upper part of the ship. It seemed a different world. The long corridors with red carpets, the white paint and the gilt mouldings on the partitions, the officers strolling about at their easeâit all made him think of the big liners he used to watch come in through the Golden Gate, the liners he was going to Europe on some day, when he got rich. Oh, if he could only get to be a sergeant first-class, all this comfort and magnificence would be his. He found the number and knocked on the door. Laughter and loud talking came from inside the stateroom.
âWait a sec!â came an unfamiliar voice.
âSergeant Olster here?â
âOh, itâs one oâ my gang,â came the sergeantâs voice. âLet him in. He wonât peach on us.â
The door opened and he saw Sergeant Olster and two other young men sitting with their feet dangling over the red varnished boards that enclosed the bunks. They were talking gaily, and had glasses in their hands.
âParis is some town, I can tell you,â one was saying. âThey say the girls come up anâ put their arms round you right in the main street.â
âHereâs the records, sergeant,â said Fuselli stiffly in his best military manner.
âOh thanksâŠ. Thereâs nothing else I want,â said the sergeant, his voice more jovial than ever. âDonât fall overboard like the guy in Company C.â
Fuselli laughed as he closed the door, growing serious suddenly on noticing that one of the young men wore in his shirt the gold bar of a second lieutenant.
âGee,â he said to himself. âI ought to have saluted.â
He waited a moment outside the closed door of the stateroom, listening to the talk and the laughter, wishing he were one of that merry group talking about women in Paris. He began thinking. Sure heâd get private first-class as soon as they got overseas. Then in a couple of months he might be corporal. If they saw much service, heâd move along all right, once he got to be a non-com.
âOh, I mustnât get in wrong. Oh, I mustnât get in wrong,â he kept saying to himself as he went down the ladder into the hold. But he forgot everything in the seasickness that came on again as he breathed in the fetid air.
The deck now slanted down in front of him, now rose so that he was walking up an incline. Dirty water slushed about from one side of the passage to the other with every lurch of the ship. When he reached the door the whistling howl of the wind through the hinges and cracks made Fuselli hesitate a long time with his hand on the knob. The moment he turned the knob the door flew open and he was in the full sweep of the wind. The deck was deserted. The wet ropes strung along it shivered dismally in the wind. Every other moment came the rattle of spray, that rose up in white fringy trees to windward and smashed against him like hail. Without closing the door he crept forward along the deck, clinging as hard as he could to the icy rope. Beyond the spray he could see huge marbled green waves rise in constant succession out of the mist. The roar of the wind in his ears confused him and terrified him. It seemed ages before he reached the door of the forward house that opened on a passage that smelt of drugs; and breathed out air, where men waited in a packed line, thrown one against the other by the lurching of the boat, to get into the dispensary. The roar of the wind came to them faintly, and only now and then the hollow thump of a wave against the bow.
âYou sick?â a man asked Fuselli.
âNaw, Iâm not sick; but Sarge sent me to get some stuff for some guys thatâs too sick to move.â
âAn awful lot oâ sickness on this boat.â
âTwo fellers died this morninâ in that there room,â said another man solemnly, pointing over his shoulder with a jerk of the thumb. âAinât buried âem yet. Itâs too rough.â
âWhatâd they die of?â asked Fuselli eagerly.
âSpinal somethinââŠ.â
âMenegitis,â broke in a man at the end of the line.
âSay, thatâs awful catchinâ ainât it?â
âIt sure is.â
âWhere does it hit yer?â asked Fuselli.
âYer neck swells up, anâ then you juss go stiff all over,â came the manâs voice from the end of the line.
There was a silence. From the direction of the infirmary a man with a packet of medicines in his hand began making his way towards the door.
âMany guys in there?â asked Fuselli in a low voice as the man brushed past him.
When the door closed again the man beside Fuselli, who was tall and broad shouldered with heavy black eyebrows, burst out, as if he were saying something heâd been trying to keep from saying for a long while:
âIt wonât be right if that sickness gets me; indeed it wonâtâŠ. Iâve got a girl waitinâ for me at home. Itâs two years since I ainât touched a woman all on account of her. It ainât natural for a fellow to go so long as that.
âWhy didnât you marry her before you left?â somebody asked mockingly.
âSaid she didnât want to be no war bride, that she could wait for me better if I didnât.â
Several men laughed.
âIt wouldnât be right if I took sick anâ died of this sickness, after keepinâ myself clean on account of that girlâŠ. It wouldnât be right,â the man muttered again to Fuselli.
Fuselli was picturing himself lying in his bunk with a swollen neck, while his arms and legs stiffened, stiffened.
A red-faced man half way up the passage started speaking:
âWhen I thinks to myself how much the folks need me home, it makes me feel sort oâ confident-like, I dunno why. I juss canât cash in my checks, thatâs all.â He laughed jovially.
No one joined in the laugh.
âIs it awfully catchinâ?â asked Fuselli of the man next him.
âMost catchinâ thing there is,â he answered solemnly. âThe worst of it is,â another man was muttering in a shrill hysterical voice, âbeinâ thrown over to the sharks. Gee, they ainât got a right to do that, even if it is war time, they ainât got a right to treat a Christian like he was a dead dawg.â
âThey got a right to do anythinâ they goddam please, buddy. Whoâs goinâ to stop âem Iâd like to know,â cried the red-faced man.
âIf he was an awficer, they wouldnât throw him over like that,â came the shrill hysterical voice again.
âCut that,â said someone else, âno use gettinâ in wrong juss for the sake of talkinâ.â
âBut ainât it dangerous, waitinâ round up here so near where those fellers are with that sickness,â whispered Fuselli to the man next him.
âReckon it is, buddy,â came the other manâs voice dully.
Fuselli started making his way toward the door.
âLemme out, fellers, Iâve got to puke,â he said. âShoot,â he was thinking, âIâll tell âem the place was closed; theyâll never come to look.â
As he opened the door he thought of himself crawling back to his bunk and feeling his neck swell and his hands burn with fever and his arms and legs stiffen until everything would be effaced in the blackness of death. But the roar of the wind and the lash of the spray as he staggered back along the deck drowned all other thought.
Fuselli and another man carried the dripping garbage-can up the ladder that led up from the mess hall. It smelt of rancid grease and coffee grounds and greasy juice trickled over their fingers as they struggled with it. At last they burst out on to the deck where a free wind blew out of the black night. They staggered unsteadily to the rail and emptied the pail into the darkness. The splash was lost in the sound of the waves and of churned water fleeing along the sides. Fuselli leaned over the rail and looked down at the faint phosphorescence that was the only light in the whole black gulf. He had never seen such darkness before. He clutched hold of the rail with both hands, feeling lost and terrified in the blackness, in the roaring of the wind in his ears and the sound of churned water fleeing astern. The alternative was the stench of below decks.
âIâll bring down the rosie, donât you bother,â he said to the other man, kicking the can that gave out a ringing sound as he spoke.
He strained his eyes to make out something. The darkness seemed to press in upon his eyeballs, blinding him. Suddenly he noticed voices near him. Two men were talking.
âI ainât never seen the sea before this, I didnât know it was like this.â
âWeâre in the zone, now.â
âThat means we may go down any minute.â
âYare.â
âChrist, how black it isâŠ. Itâld be awful to drown in the dark like this.â
âItâld be over soon.â
âSay, Fred, have you ever been so skeered thatâŠ?â
âDâyou feel askeert?â
âFeel my hand, FredâŠ. NoâŠ. There it is. God, itâs so hellish black you canât see yer own hand.â
âItâs cold. Why are you shiverinâ so? God, I wish I had a drink.â
âI ainât never seen the sea beforeâŠI didnât knowâŠâ
Fuselli heard distinctly the manâs teeth chattering in the darkness.
âGod, pull yerself together, kid. You canât be skeered like this.â
âO God.â
There was a long pause. Fuselli heard nothing but the churned water speeding along the shipâs side and the wind roaring in his ears.
âI ainât never seen the sea before this time, Fred, anâ it sort oâ gits my goat, all this sickness anâ allâŠ. They dropped three of âem overboard yesterday.â
âHell, kid, donât think of it.â
âSay, Fred, if IâŠif IâŠif youâre saved, Fred, anâ not me, youâll write to my folks, wonât you?â
âIndeed I will. But I reckon you anâ meâll both go down together.â
âDonât say that. Anâ you wonât forget to write that girl I gave you the address of?â
âYouâll do the same for me.â
âOh, no, Fred, Iâll never see landâŠ. Oh, itâs no use. Anâ I feel so well anâ huskyâŠ. I donât want to die. I canât die like this.â
âIf it
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