Nothing ever turns out the way want itAnd yet they weren't really tough, they still believed it would all be perfect in the end, they separated all the golden grains in the sand and looked at them, only at them -- with a magnifying glassHe did it himself, and he had nothing to look forward to but a succession of barren little towns and rented rooms, of nights spent listening to men talk in barroomsWhat would there be outside of a whore and some tremors in his groin?
Maybe I ought to get married, he thought, and snickered immediately afterwardWhat was the use? He had had his chance, and turned it down, he could have had Lois, and he skipped out on herWhen you're like me you're scared to admit you're getting oldThat was it, nice and simpleYou started out with something, something they all had, and it was just pissed awayFor an instant he remembered Lois getting up in the middle of the night to look at Jackie, and then coming back to bed, shuddering against him until her body warmedHis throat choked on it for an instant and he forced it backHe had nothing to give a woman, nothing to give anybodyWhat do you tell them, that it's all bloody noses? Even a wounded animal went away alone to die
In affirmation, his kidneys were aching again
Still he could see a time when these years
chanel tote handbags he was living now would seem different, when he could laugh at the men he'd known in the platoon and remember the way the jungle and the hills sometimes looked in the dawnHe might even want the kind of tension there was in stalking a manHe hated it more than anything he had ever done and yet if he lived he knew that in the end it might turn mellowThe magnifying glass on the gold grainsYou always get caughtHe had been caught himself once; with all he knew he had still got burnedHe had believed a newspaperThe newspapers were written for guys like Toglio to believe in, and sure enough Toglio had got a million-dollar wound, and would go home, and make speeches for bond drives, believing every word of it"Shall the GIs have died in vain?" He remembered an argument he had with Toglio about a clipping of an editorial one of the men received from his mother"Did the GIs die in vain?"
He snortedWho didn't know the answer? Of course they died in vain, any GI knew the scoreto them who had to fight it
"Red, you're too cynical," Toglio had told him
"Yeah, fighting a war to fix something works about as good as going to a whorehouse to get rid of a clap
He stared up at the moon nowMaybe it did count for somethingHe didn't know, and there was no way he'd ever find out, no way any of them
replica watches rolex ever wouldAaah, just chalk it off, it's down the drain and who gives a goddam
He wouldn't live long enough to find out anyway, he thought
Hearn couldn't sleep eitherHe was extremely restless, and an odd febrile fatigue had settled in his legsFor almost an hour he turned over continually in his blanket, staring at the mountain, the moon above them, the hills, the ground before his faceSince the ambush, he had been feeling something, not exactly definable, but close to anxiety and unrest, and it had been driving himIt was almost painful to remain stillAfter a while he stood up, and walked through the hollowThe guard on the hilltop saw him and raised his rifleHe whistled softly, and then said, "Who is it -- Minetta? This is the Lieutenant
He climbed up the slope and sat down beside MinettaBefore them in the moonlight the grass swayed in silver waves over a valley and the hills looked like stone
"What's up, Lootenant?" Minetta asked
"Not a damn thing, just stretching my legs They talked in whispers
"Jesus, it's a bitch being on guard after that ambush Hearn massaged his legs, trying to soothe them
"What're we doing tomorrow, Lootenant?"
Well, what were they doing? This was what he had to face"What do you think, Minetta?"
"I think we ought to turn around and go backThe
chanel quilted bags damn pass is closed, ain't it?" Minetta's voice, even muted, was indignant as if he had been thinking about this for a long time"I don't know, maybe we will He sat up there with Minetta for a few minutes more, and then went down into the hollow again, slipped under his blanketIt was as simple as thatWhy didn't they turn around and go back, since the pass was closed?
All right, why?
The answer was simple enoughHe didn't want to turn around and call the patrol offThe motives this time would be shoddy enoughHearn put his hands under his head and stared up at the sky
The patrol no longer had the chance of a snowball in hellEven if the pass were open now, the Japs would know where they were, guess their mission easily enoughIf they ever got into the Japanese rear, it would be almost impossible to remain unobservedLooking back on it now, the patrol had never had a chance of succeedingThis was one time Cummings had dropped the ball
And he didn't want to go back, because it meant approaching Cummings with empty hands, excuses and failureIt was the supplies off the Liberty ship all over againThat had been the thing that had been back of his actions the first two days; a liaison with the platoon -- that was ridiculousHe had wanted to get along with them because it would increase
tiffany and co bracelets the chances for the patrol's successThe truth was that he didn't give a damn about them if he plumbed himselfThrough the fatigue, the exertion, the tug of war with Croft, the real motive had been to get a little of his own back from Cummings
Was it revenge? Only it became even dirtier than thatFor at the heart of it was not revenge but vindicationHe wanted Cummings to approve of him againHearn turned over on his stomach
Leadership!
It was as filthy as everything elseAnd he enjoyed it nowAfter the ambush, after the unique excitement, call it the unique ecstasy, of leading the men out of the field, he had been replaying those few minutes over and over again in his head, wishing it could happen againBeyond Cummings, deeper now, was his own desire to lead the platoonIt had grown, ignited suddenly, become one of the most satisfying things he had ever doneHe could understand Croft's staring at the mountain through the field glasses, or killing the birdWhen he searched himself he was just another CroftAll his life he had flirted with situations, jobs, where he could move men, and always, as if he had sensed the extent of the impulse within himself, he had moved away, dropped things when they were about to develop, cast off women because deep within him he needed control and not
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