The Naked and the Dead (29 page)

            "Finish them off," Croft shouted down to him.

            "They're dead."          

            "Finish them off."

            Red felt a pulse of anger. If it'd been anyone else but me, the bastard would have done it himself, he thought. He stood over one of the motionless bodies, and brought the sights of his tommy gun to bear on the back of the soldier's head. He took a little breath, and then fired a burst. He felt nothing except the rising quivering motion of the gun in his hands. After he had fired, he noticed that it was the soldier who had been sitting with his rifle across his thighs. There was an instant in which he hovered on the lip of an intense anxiety, but he repressed it and strode over to the last soldier.

            As he looked down upon him, Red felt a wash of many transient subtle emotions. If he had been asked, he might have said, "I didn't feel a goddam thing," but the back of his neck was numb, and his heart was beating rapidly. He had an intense distaste for what he was about to do, and yet as he stared at the body and pointed his sights at the man's neck, he was feeling a pleasurable anticipation. He tightened his finger on the trigger, taking up the slack, tensing himself for the moment when he would fire and the slugs would make round little holes in a cluster, and the corpse would twitch and shake under the force of the bullets. He pictured all those sensations, pulled the trigger. . . and nothing happened. His gun had jammed. He started to work the bolt when the body underneath him suddenly rolled over. It took Red almost a second to realize that the Jap was alive. The two men stared at each other with blank twitching faces, and then the Jap sprang to his feet. There was a fraction of a second in which Red could have knocked him down with the stock of his gun, but the frustration he had felt when the gun jammed, added to the shock he experienced when he realized the soldier was alive, combined to paralyze him completely. He watched the soldier stand up, move a step toward him, and then Red's muscles worked suddenly, and he hurled his gun at the Jap. It missed, and the two soldiers continued to stare at each other, not three yards apart.

            Red could never forget the Jap's face. It was gaunt and the skin was drawn tightly over the eyes and cheeks and nostrils so that he had a hungry searching look. He had never seen a man's face so intensely; his gaze concentrated until he could detect every imperfection in the man's skin. He saw blackheads on the Jap's forehead, and a tiny postule on the side of his nose, and drops of sweat in the deep hollows under his eyes. Perhaps they stared at each other for half a second, and then the Jap unsheathed his bayonet, and Red turned and ran. He saw the other man lunging toward him, and Red thought inanely, Horror movie. With a great effort he shrieked over his shoulder, "Get him, GET HIM, CROFT!"

            Then Red tripped, and lay motionless on the ground, half stunned. He was trying to ready himself for the flash of pain the knife would cause as it pierced his back, and he held his breath. He heard his heart beat once, and then once more. His alertness was returning, and he poised his body. His heart beat again, and again, and again. Abruptly, he realized that nothing was going to happen.

            Croft's clear cold voice grated in his ear. "Goddam, Red, how long you gonna lay on the ground?"

            Red rolled over and sat up. He repressed a groan with difficulty, but the effort made him shudder. "Jesus," he said.

            "What do you think of your boy friend?" Croft asked softly.

            The Jap was standing several yards away with his hands in the air. He had dropped the bayonet, and it lay at his feet. Croft walked over and kicked it away.

            Red looked at the Japanese soldier, and for an instant their eyes met. Both men looked away, as if they had each been caught in something shameful. Red realized suddenly how weak he felt.

            Yet even now he could not admit any weakness to Croft. "What took you guys so goddam long?" he asked.

            "Got down as fast as we could," Croft said.

            Gallagher spoke up abruptly. His face was white and his mouth trembled. "I was gonna shoot the mother-fugger but you were in the way."

            Croft laughed quietly, and then said, "Ah guess we frightened him more than you, Red. He damn sure stopped running after you when he saw us."

            Red found himself shuddering again. He felt a grudged admiration for Croft, and with it a great deal of resentment at being in his debt. For a second or two he tried to find some way to thank him, but he could not utter the words.

            "I guess we might as well head back," Red said. Croft's expression seemed to change. A glint of excitement formed in his eyes. "Why don't you head on back, Red?" he suggested. "Gallagher and me'll follow you in a couple of minutes."

            Red forced himself to say, "Want me to take the Jap?" There was nothing he wanted less. He found himself still unable to look at the soldier.

            "No," Croft said. "Gallagher and me'll take care of him."

            Red realized there was something odd about Croft at this moment. "I can take him okay," he said.

            "No, we'll take care of him."

            Red looked once at the bodies lying limp in the green draw. Already a few insects were buzzing over the corpse who had lost his face. Everything that had happened to him seemed unreal again. He looked at the soldier from whom he had fled, and already his face seemed anonymous and small. A part of him wondered why he had not been able to meet his eyes. Jesus, I feel pooped, he thought. His legs quivered a little as he picked up his tommy gun. He felt too tired to say anything more. "Okay, see you up on the hill," he muttered.

            For some obscure reason, he knew he should not leave, and as he walked away down the trail he felt again the curious shame and guilt the Japanese soldier had caused him. That Croft's a bastard, he told himself. Red felt leaden, in fever.

            When he had gone, Croft sat down on the ground and lit a cigarette. He smoked intently without saying anything. Gallagher sat beside him, looking at the prisoner. "Let's get rid of him and get back," he blurted suddenly.

            "Hold your water," Croft told him softly.

            "What's the use of torturin' the poor bastard?" Gallagher asked.

            "He ain't complainin'," Croft said.

            But then, as if he had understood them, the prisoner crumpled suddenly to his knees and began to sob in a high-pitched voice. Every few seconds he would turn to them, and extend his hands with pleading motions, and then he would beat his arms on the ground as if he despaired of making them understand. Out of the spate of words, Gallagher could distinguish something that sounded like "kood-sigh, kood-sigh."

            Gallagher was a little hysterical from the abruptness with which the combat had begun and ended. His momentary compassion for the prisoner lapsed and was replaced by an intense irritation. "Let's cut out that 'kood-sigh' shit," he roared at the Jap.

            The soldier was silent for a moment, and then began to plead again. His voice had a desperate urgency which rasped Gallagher's senses. "You look like a fuggin Yid with all that handwaving," he shouted.

            "Let's keep it down," Croft said.

            The soldier approached them, and Gallagher looked uncomfortably into his black pleading eyes. A powerful fishy stench arose from his clothing. "They sure can stink," Gallagher said.

            Croft kept staring at the Jap. An emotion was obviously working through his mind, for the lump of cartilage under his ear kept pulsing. Croft actually was not thinking at all; he was bothered by an intense sense of incompletion. He was still expecting the burst that Red's gun had never fired. Even more than Red, he had been anticipating the quick lurching spasms of the body when the bullets would crash into it, and now he felt an intense dissatisfaction.

            He looked at his cigarette, and on an impulse he handed it to the Japanese soldier. "What're you doing that for?" Gallagher asked.

            "Let him smoke."

            The prisoner puffed at it eagerly, and yet self-consciously. His eyes kept darting suspiciously at Croft and Gallagher, and the sweat glistened on his cheeks.

            "Hey, you," Croft said, "sit down."

            The Jap looked at him with uncomprehending eyes. "Sit down." Croft made some motions with his hands, and the prisoner squatted with his back against a tree. "You got anything to eat?" Croft asked Gallagher.

            "I got a chocolate bar from the ration."

            "Let's have it," Croft said. He took the bar from Gallagher and handed it to the soldier, who looked at him with dull eyes. Croft made eating motions with his hand, and the prisoner, comprehending, ripped the paper away, and wolfed down the chocolate. "Goddam, he sure is hungry," Croft said.

            "What the fug are you doin' it for?" Gallagher asked. He felt exasperated to the point of tears. He had been saving the candy for over a day, and its loss pained him; moreover, he was vacillating between irritability at the prisoner and a grudged compassion. "The dumb bastard sure is skinny," he said with the superior affection he might have used if he saw a mongrel dog shivering in the rain. But then immediately afterward he watched the last piece of chocolate disappear in the Jap's mouth, and he muttered angrily, "What a goddam pig he is."

            Croft thought of the night the Japanese had tried to cross the river. He felt a shiver work its way through him, and he stared for a long time at the prisoner. He felt an intense emotion toward him which made him clench his teeth. But what it was, he could not have said. He removed his canteen and took a drink. He saw the prisoner watching him as he gulped down the water, and on an impulse he handed him the canteen. "Go ahead, drink," he said. Croft gazed at him as he swallowed with long eager draughts.

            "I'm a sonofabitch," Gallagher said. "What got in ya?"

            Croft did not answer. He was staring at the prisoner, who had finished drinking. There were a few tears of joy in the Jap's face and he smiled suddenly and pointed to his breast pocket. Croft extracted a wallet, and opened it. There was a picture of the Japanese soldier in civilian dress and beside him was his wife and two little children with round doll faces. The Japanese soldier pointed to himself and then made two gestures with his hand above the ground to indicate how tall his children had grown.

            Gallagher looked at the picture, and felt a pang. For an instant he remembered his wife and wondered what his child would look like when it was born. With a shock he realized that his wife might be in labor now. For some reason which he did not understand he said suddenly to the Jap, "I'm gonna have a kid in a couple of days."

            The prisoner smiled politely, and Gallagher pointed angrily to himself and then held his hands extended and about nine inches apart. "Me," he said, "me."

            "Ahhhhhh," the prisoner said. "Chiisai!"

            "Yeah, cheez-igh," Gallagher said.

            The prisoner shook his head slowly, and smiled again.

            Croft came up to him, and gave him another cigarette. The Japanese soldier bowed low, and accepted the match. "Arigato, arigato, domo arigato," he said.

            Croft felt his head pulsing with an intense excitement. There were tears in the prisoner's eyes again, and Croft looked at them dispassionately. He gazed once about the little draw, and watched a fly crawl over the mouth of one of the corpses.

            The prisoner had taken a deep puff and was leaning back now against the trunk of the tree. His eyes had closed, and for the first time there was a dreamy expression on his face. Croft felt a tension work itself into his throat and leave his mouth dry and bitter and demanding. His mind had been entirely empty until now, but abruptly he brought up his rifle and pointed it at the prisoner's head. Gallagher started to protest as the Jap opened his eyes.

            The prisoner did not have time to change his expression before the shot crashed into his skull. He slumped forward, and then rolled on his side. He was still smiling but he looked silly now.

            Gallagher tried to speak again but was incapable of it. He felt an awful fear and for an instant he thought of his wife again. Oh, God save Mary, God save Mary, he repeated to himself without thinking of the meaning of the words.

            Croft stared for almost a minute at the Jap. His pulse was slowing down and he felt the tension ease in his throat and mouth. He realized suddenly that a part of his mind, very deeply buried, had known he was going to kill the prisoner from the moment he had sent Red on ahead. He felt quite blank now. The smile on the dead man's face amused him, and a trivial rill of laughter emitted from his lips. "Goddam," he said. He thought once again of the Japanese crossing the river, and he prodded the body with his foot. "Goddam," he said, "that Jap sure died happy." The laughter swelled more strongly inside him.

            Later that morning recon received an order to return to the rear. They folded their tents, stowed their ponchos in their jungle packs, filled their canteens from the water Red and Gallagher and Croft had brought back, and ate a ration while they waited for other troops to relieve them. About noon a squad from A Company moved into their outpost, and recon descended their hill and took the trail leading back to 1st Battalion. It was a long hike over a muddy lane in the jungle, and after a half hour they settled down into the tedium and weariness of trudging through the mud. A few of them were jubilant; Martinez and Wyman had a pressure removed from them, and Wilson was thinking about whisky. Croft was taciturn, reflective, and Gallagher and Red were nervous and irritable and started frequently at every unexpected noise. Red found that he was continually turning around to look behind him.

            They reached 1st Battalion in an hour, and after a short rest they moved on along a lateral trail to 2nd Battalion. It was midafternoon when the arrived there, and Croft received orders for the squad to bivouac on the battalion perimeter for the night. The men cast off their packs, withdrew their ponchos and set up their pup tents again. There was a machine-gun emplacement in front of them and they did not bother to dig any more holes. They sat about resting and talking, and gradually they felt the tension of the past week coming back. "Goddam," Wilson said, "that sure was a lonely place they put us. Ah tell ya Ah jus' wouldn' wanta spend a honeymoon there."