For that afternoon at least, as the platoon... For that afternoon at least, as the platoon waited on the beach for the boats that were due the next day, Croft was rested by the unadmitted knowledge that he had found a limit to his hunger
14
THE BOAT picked them up the next day and they started on the journey backThis time the landing craft had been equipped with eighteen bunks along the bulkheads and the men put their equipment in the empty ones and stretched out to sleepThey had been sleeping ever since they had come out of the jungle the preceding afternoon, and by now their bodies had stiffened and become painfulSome of them had missed a meal that morning but they were not hungryThe rigors of the patrol had left them depleted in many waysThey drowsed for hours on the return trip, awaking only to lie in their bunks and stare out at the sky above the open boatThe craft pitched and yawed, spray
christian dior saddle bag washed over the sides and the bow ramp, but they barely noticedThe sound of the motors was pleasant, reassuringThe events of the patrol had receded already, become a diffused wry compound of indistinct memories
By afternoon most of them were awakeThey were still terribly fatigued but they could not sleep any longerTheir bodies ached and they felt no desire to walk about the narrow confines of the troop well, but still they were subtly restlessThe patrol was over and yet they had so little to anticipateThe months and years ahead were very palpable to themThey were still on the treadmill; the misery, the ennui, the dislocated horrorThings would happen and time would pass, but there was no hope, no anticipationThere would be nothing but the deep cloudy dejection that overcast everything
Minetta lay on his bunk, his eyes closed, and dawdled through the afternoonThere
omega automatic geneve was one fantasy he kept indulging, a very simple one, a very pleasing oneMinetta was dreaming about blowing off his footOne of these days while cleaning his gun he could point the muzzle right into the middle of his ankle, and press the triggerAll the bones would be mashed in his foot, and whether they had to amputate or not, they certainly would have to send him home
Minetta tried to add up all the anglesHe wouldn't be able to run again, but then who the hell wanted to run anyway? And as for dancing, the way they had these artificial limbs he could put on a wooden foot, and still hold his ownOh, this was okay, this could work
For a moment he was uneasyDid it make any difference which foot it was? He was a leftie and maybe it'd be better to shoot the right foot, or were they both the same? He thought of asking Polack, and immediately dropped the ideaThis kind
chanel white ceramic watch of thing he'd have to play aloneIn a couple of weeks, on a day when nothing was doing, he could take care of that little detailHe'd be in the hospital for a while, for three months, six months, but thenHe lit a cigarette and watched the clouds dissolve into one another, feeling agreeably sorry for himself because he was going to have to lose a foot and it was not his fault
Red picked at a sore on his hand, examining maternally the ridges and creases of his knucklesThere was no kidding himself any longerHis kidneys were shot, his legs would begin to break down soon, all through his body he could feel the damage the patrol had causedProbably it had taken things out of him he would never be able to put back againWell, it was the old men who got it, MacPherson on Motome, and then Wilson, it was probably fair enoughAnd there was always the chance of getting hit and
louis vuitton miroir coming out of it with a million-dollar woundWhat difference did it make anyway? Once a man turned yellowHe coughed, lying flat on his back, the phlegm gagging him slightlyIt took an effort of will to prop himself on his elbow and hawk the sputum out onto the floor of the boat
"Hey, Jack," one of the pilots on the stern hatch yelled, "keep the boat cleanWe don't want to scrub it after you guys
"Aaah, blow it out," Polack shouted
Croft called from his bunk, "Let's cut out that spittin', men
There were no answersRed nodded to himselfIt was there, all right; he had waited a little anxiously for Croft to say something, had been relieved when Croft had not scolded him by name
The bums in the flophouse who cringed when they were sober and cursed when they were drunk
You carried it alone as long as you could, and then you weren't strong enough to take it any
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