Part 58 (1/2)
”What yer goin' to do in Paris, Andy?”
”Study music.”
”Ah guess some day Ah'll go into a movie show an' when they turn on the lights, who'll Ah see but ma ole frien' Andy raggin' the scales on the pyaner.”
”Something like that.... How d'you like being a corporal, Chris?”
”O, Ah doan know.” Chrisfield spat on the floor between his feet. ”It's funny, ain't it? You an' me was right smart friends onct.... Guess it's bein' a non-com.”
Andrews did not answer.
Chrisfield sat silent with his eyes on the fire.
”Well, Ah got him.... Gawd, it was easy,” he said suddenly.
”What do you mean?”
”Ah got him, that's all.”
”You mean...?”
Chrisfield nodded.
”Um-hum, in the Oregon forest,” he said.
Andrews said nothing. He felt suddenly very tired. He thought of men he had seen in att.i.tudes of death.
”Ah wouldn't ha' thought it had been so easy,” said Chrisfield.
The woman came through the door at the end of the kitchen with a candle in her hand. Chrisfield stopped speaking suddenly.
”Tomorrow I'm going to Paris,” cried Andrews boisterously. ”It's the end of soldiering for me.”
”Ah bet it'll be some sport in Germany, Andy.... Sarge says we'll be goin' up to Coab... what's its name?”
”Coblenz.”
Chrisfield poured a gla.s.s of wine out and drank it off, smacking his lips after it and wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.
”D'ye remember, Andy, we was both of us brus.h.i.+n' cigarette b.u.t.ts at that b.l.o.o.d.y trainin' camp when we first met up with each other?”
”Considerable water has run under the bridge since then.”
”Ah reckon we won't meet up again, mos' likely.”
”h.e.l.l, why not?”
They were silent again, staring at the fading embers of the fire. In the dim edge of the candlelight the woman stood with her hands on her hips, looking at them fixedly.
”Reckon a feller wouldn't know what to do with himself if he did get out of the army... now, would he, Andy?”