From Here to Eternity

by James Jones

  “My god,” Angelo said drunkenly happily and put his other arm around Prew’s neck. “What is this, old home week? Looks like the goddam homecoming game at NYU. Nothin but Jews and Wops and Polacks.”

  He pulled their heads together in front of him and whispered.

  “I’m drunk, friends. Been drinkin champagne cocktails since eleven-thirty and am drunk. And happy. But dont tell Mother Kipfer or she’ll throw me out. Also, do not tell her of this fifth of whiskey I got in my belt under this loose flowing gook shirt.”

  He straightened up and looked around and waved at Sandra sitting with the sailors.

  “Wonderful things, gook shirts, aint they, Baby Doll? So loose and cool. Plenty of room to move. I love gook shirts. Do you love gook shirts?”

  Sandra wrinkled her pert nose at him and laughed. “I love gook shirts, Angelo.” The two sailors stared at Angelo sourly.

  Maggio pulled the two heads together in front of him again. “Thats for me,” he whispered. “For all-l-l night. Unless you men picked her first, you got first choice. Man, I like em tall. I’m the midget who married the fat lady in the circus. Acres and acres,” he whispered. “Acres and acres.”

  “What I want to know,” Stark said, “is where the hell all this money come from.”

  “Simple,” Angelo said. “Really nothing. Nothing at all. But its a long story. Shall I tell it?”

  “Sure,” Prew said. “Lets hear it.”

  “Shall I really tell it? Well all right then, if you insist. But its a long story. You sure you really want to hear it? Okay then, if you’re positive. I will tell it. But lets go back to the latrine first.”

  “I just been,” Stark said.

  Maggio slapped himself on the belly. “Yeah, but you dint find there what I’ll find there.”

  “Nuff said,” Stark said, and the three of them went arm in arm back to the ammonia strong latrine, foul with the emptied bladders of a thousand men, and while Stark broke the seal on the bottle and they had a drink Maggio told them the triumphant story.

  “After you guys left for town I got to wonderin why the hell I should stay home. So I called up my queer, Hal (the one I met that night we went broke in the poker game, remember?), and made him drive up to Wahiawa and pick me up, the bastard.

  “He was reluctant, but I blackmailed him with this,” he said, holding up a stiffened middle finger. “Ony I was polite about it. He’s a intellecshual and very sensitive. I tole him this was a crisis and if he couldnt stand by his friends in a crisis he didnt deserve to have any friends. He seen the light all right.

  “He took me back downtown and bought me a big feed of steak and frenchfries at Lau Yee Chai’s, get that, Lau Yee Chai’s. No tonks for Maggio. When Maggio rides he hits the best. After the feed we went and drunk champagne cocktails at the good old Waikiki Tavern where all the boys hang out.

  “I explained to old Hal how I’d borrowed twenty bucks off a twenty percent man in the Company and I had to have it back right away to pay him off because he was threatenin to turn me in and if he did I’d go to the Stockade sure and old Hal wouldnt see his little boy for about six months.”

  He pulled a sheaf of ones out of his pocket and shook it at them happily.

  “Thats all there was to it, men. Old Hal came through with a loan of twenty. He wanted to give it to me, but I’m too smart for that. I wouldn’t take it unless he made it a loan. I know how to handle him. If he could ever prove to himself I’m tryin to take him for a ride I’d never get another dime out of him. So now I owe him twenty bucks,” Maggio grinned triumphantly. “But I had rather owe it to him all my life than beat him out of it.”

  Stark giggled and handed him the bottle. “So you told him you’d go to the Stockade unless you paid off this twenty percent man. What a story, sam. Dont this Hal know loanin money for interest is against the ARs? and that any man who does it cant collect it legal?”

  “He dont know nothin about the Army,” Maggio grinned. “He tries to ack like he does, but he dont. But he knows the navy though. Just ask him for it how he knows the navy, thats all, friend,” he grinned.

  He corked the bottle and put it back in his belt, under the hanging shirt. “Say,” he said. “Its gettin close on to two o’clock, men. We better be picking our stuff or them sailors out there going to beat our time.”

  “I got mine picked already,” Stark said, suddenly sullenly, not looking at them.

  “Yeah?” Maggio said. “Well that Great, Big, Tall, Long Sandra’s the one for me. Unless you picked her already. Who’d you pick?” he asked Stark anxiously.

  “Billy,” Stark said sullenly, still not looking at them. “The little Jewish one. I already ask her and its okay.”

  “Oh-oh,” Maggio grinned. “The little hot eyed job?”

  “Sure,” Stark said angrily. “Thats right. Whats wrong with that?”

  “Not a thing,” Maggio grinned. “I been meanin to try that sometime myself.”

  “All right then,” Stark said sullenly. “You pick yours and I’ll pick mine. Whats it to you what I pick?”

  “Not a dam thing,” Maggio said. “Long as I get Big Sandra. I dont care what they are, long as they big and tall.”

  “Okay,” Stark said. “Thats your business. If I like Billy thats my business, aint it? You like Sandra. Well, I just happen to like Billy. So what?”

  “So nothing,” Maggio said. “All I ask was . . .”

  “Well quit asking,” Stark said. “Its none of your goddam business. I just like Billy, thats all.”

  “Maureen is free,” Prew said.

  “To hell with Maureen,” Stark said. “I know what the hell I want. Billy’s what I want. You want to argue?”

  “Okayokay,” Maggio said. “Quit bitching. You got her, aint you? But man,” he said, “I love that Sandra. When they that big and tall, man! Man oh man oh man! You got yours picked?” he said to Prew.

  “Yeah,” Prew said. “I got mine picked.”

  Stark snorted. “He picked the goddam Princess.”

  “No joke?” Maggio said. “No kidding?”

  “No joke,” Stark said sourly. “No kidding. Princess Lorene, the Virgin of Waikiki,” he taunted.

  “She’s a snob,” Maggio protested.

  “All right, so what?” Prew said. “I aint telling you guys what to pick. Dont tell me what to pick.”

  “I aint telling you what to pick,” Stark said. “You can pick Minerva, if you want, for all I give a good goddam. Its nothing to me what you pick.”

  “We want to be sure now,” Maggio said, “that we have them get three rooms right together in a row so we can all use this whiskey. Dont forget that now,” he said. “You asked yours yet?” he said to Prew.

  “No,” Prew said reluctantly. “Not yet.”

  “Well you better ask her quick, man,” Angelo said. “If you want her. Them sailors look to me like they mean to stay all all night too.”

  “You aint ask Sandra yet either, have you?” Prew said.

  “God damn no!” Maggio said. “I clean forgot! Lets us get back out there, man. Right now.”

  Chapter 17

  THEY CAME BACK from the latrine down the long hallway past the many doors of tiny bedrooms, past the several short side halls that held only doors of bedrooms, making the right angle turn to the left and past still more doors of bedrooms, before they reached the waiting rooms.

  “Big place,” Maggio said.

  “Got a big business to take care of,” Stark said.

  Prew said nothing.

  He found Lorene still sitting in the same place, looking just as serenely confident, and he felt relieved a little. But now there was a new soldier he had not seen before sitting beside her talking to her, a constant stream of talking to her, that she was listening to serenely, but attentively, and he stopped undecided in the doorway, letting the other two go on in ahead because he felt again the thickness in his throat that all but choked him and now also a new feeling of weak laxness in the backs of his
thighs.

  He knew he should ask her right away at once before it was too late. But he was very worried suddenly for fear he had already waited too long to ask. And it was suddenly of the greatest importance that he get her instead of another one. It was so important he was afraid to ask and he was very awkward and he could not begin.

  Jesus Christ, he raged at himself. Whats wrong with you. She’s nothing but a common whore, or at best an uncommon whore, so why should you be awkward. Who cares if this one doesnt like you. Ask Maureen, she likes you. Whats wrong with you, he thought, is you have not had one for so long you are ripe sucker bait for any cunning little cute little snatch that comes along. Thats whats wrong with you, so for god sake quit being awkward. Go and ask Maureen.

  “You engaged, Lorene?” he asked her awkwardly.

  His voice made the talkative soldier stop talking and look up and grin.

  At least something can make him stop talking, Prew thought.

  “No, Prew,” Lorene smiled serenely. “Just talking.” She got up. She smiled down at the talkative soldier and Prew thought he had never seen such a smugly talkative soldier.

  “I mean for all night,” he said thickly. “Engaged for all night.”

  “You want to stay all night?” Lorene said. “I thought you meant engaged for right now.”

  “I meant engaged for all night,” he said flatly. “Are you?”

  “Not yet, Prew.”

  “Well you are now,” he said, looking at the talkative soldier.

  “Its a date,” Lorene smiled. “But it is twenty minutes yet. Theres no need for you to hurry. Sit down and relax a while.” She patted the seat on the other side of her like a serenely reassuring mother, smiling at him with her long-lipped mouth set into the thin child’s face.

  “We were talking about surfboarding,” she explained, as he dropped into the chair. “Bill is stationed at DeRussey and is quite an expert at it. He describes it thrillingly.”

  The talkative soldier stopped grinning. He smiled briefly. “You know anything about surfing?” he asked Prew, leaning forward around Lorene.

  “No,” Prew said, leaning forward around Lorene. “Not a goddam thing.”

  “Well,” the talkative soldier said, smiling at Lorene. “You guys from Schofield, being stationed inland like you are, dont get much chance at it I guess.”

  “No,” Prew said. “But we got mountains. You know anything about mountain climbing?”

  “A little bit,” the talkative soldier said, smiling at Lorene again. “Are you a mountain climber?”

  “No,” Prew said. “I dont know anything about mountain climbing. Do you know anything about flying an airplane?”

  The talkative soldier smiled briefly. “I’ve had a few lessons,” he said. “Out at John Rodgers.”

  “Well I cant fly either,” Prew said. “What do you know about deep sea diving?”

  Lorene, who was sitting facing the talkative soldier, turned clear around to serenely frown at him severely.

  The talkative soldier frowned at him too, this time, before he smiled briefly.

  “No,” the talkative soldier said. “I’ve never done that. Is it fun?” He leaned back in his chair and returned to his private conversation with Lorene who listened to it with the same serene attentiveness.

  Prew leaned back in his own chair, letting him have the floor undisputed, and bit off a hangnail on his thumb, waiting for him to run down, but he did not run down, he took the floor and kept it, with a constant stream of talking that showed no prospects of running down.

  “Hey,” Prew said finally, leaning forward again around Lorene. “Why dont you take her to bed, Bill? Aint that what you come up here for? Or did you come up here to present her with a charter membership of the Outrigger Club?”

  The talkative soldier stopped talking and smiled at Lorene sadly. “Well,” he said to her. “An Infantryman who is also a wit.”

  “At least I’m not a goddamned Coast Artilleryman who is also a surfboarder,” Prew said. “Are you going to screw her or aint you?”

  Stiffly Lorene turned clear around to stare at him again, this time not severely but horrifiedly, as if he had just crawled up out of a hole in the mud.

  Prew grinned at her. “Well? Are you?” he asked Bill.

  “Did you want to go to the room, Bill?” Lorene said, “with me? There is plenty of time if you do, honey.”

  “Well,” Bill said. “Sure. I guess. I think that would be better perhaps, dont you? The air in here seems to have gotten very smelly, hasnt it?”

  “Yeah,” Prew said deliberately. “I noticed that too. You son of a bitch.”

  “Listen, fellow . . .” Bill started.

  “Shall we go then?” Lorene interrupted him. “I see no point in remaining here, do you? Come on, Bill,” she said, taking his hand with virginal shyness. “The sooner we go, the more time we’ll have together, Bill.”

  “All right,” Bill said. He let her lead him out. At the door she stopped just long enough to give Prew a very disapproving look and to let him see her smile tremulously shyly at Bill.

  Prew grinned at her. “Dont forget to show her the snapshots of your new surfboard, Bill,” he called after them.

  Then, when they had gone, he let the grin drop off. He leaned back in the chair. He slid down in it until he was sitting on the back of his waist with his chin on his chest. Big Time Operator Prewitt. Who reads off all the other poor unfortunate bastards like himself who are so hungry to talk to a woman they willing to come to a whorehouse and pay three bucks to do it. Really showed him up, dint you? how he would take everything off of you and still not fight. Wanted to fight him bad, didnt you? you who make your brags about never checking a cinch into the next man, you who are so high and mightily humanitarian you cannot allow yourself to fight for Dynamite’s bloody boxing squad. Killer Prewitt, horny fisted veteran of a thousand battles. Blood makes you sick, doesnt it? You really looked good in there, Killer. You were truly championship material, werent you, Caveman? She ought to admire you a lot now. You really made a great impression on her, with your virility and fifteen bucks I bet she’d even go all night with you. And that was all you wanted, wasnt it, Killer? All you wanted was what she puts out for a living, wasnt it, Caveman? You didn’t want her admiration, or friendship, or closeness, or interest, or intimacy, or whatever the fuck they call it, the part they keep and dont put out for a living, did you? No, of course you didnt. Who ever wants the interest or admiration of a whore?

  Across the room Maggio and the tall long legged Sandra were bidding a fond farewell to two sullen sailors. Did they want the interest of a whore? Sure not, thats why they’re sullen, with plenty others in the next room.

  Little Billy was sitting on Stark’s lap with her mouth to his ear talking feverishly. Did Stark want the admiration of a little hot-eyed whore? Of course not, thats why he’s grinning so complacently. Man, you kill me, you really knock me out. Killer Prewitt, the Boy Wonder.

  “How you doing, buddy?” Stark grinned at him swimmily. “You got it all fixed up?”

  “Yeah,” he said. “All fixed up. Fixed up swell.”

  Maybe you better take up surfboard riding, Killer, he thought.

  “Did you tell her about gettin the three rooms together?” Stark asked him.

  “No,” he said. “I forgot to ask her that.”

  “We got it fixed up anyway,” Stark said. “Its okay. But dont forget to tell her when she comes back, or you’ll miss out on the dew.” Then little Billy bit him on the ear and he jerked his head and cursed, then laughed, then brought his wide-swinging attention back to her, where she wanted it.

  “I wont forget it,” Prew said, to nobody. “I wouldnt want to miss out on anything. Anything but that, but missing out on something.”

  Maggio and Sandra were shaking hands with the sailors in great friendship, like the host and hostess regretfully speeding the departing guests. As soon as the sailors had gone through the connecting doors into the second
waiting room Maggio sat down with a great sigh and pulled Sandra down on his lap, whereupon Maggio completely disappeared from view.

  “Hey,” Maggio said muffledly. “I dont think this is going to work out so good. How about me sitting on your lap? For a change?”

  “Well,” Sandra said. “It would be an experience.”

  She got up, laughing and wrinkling her pert nose and shaking her black cascade of gleaming hair, and they changed places, Maggio looking like a mahout perched on his favorite she elephant, or a circus monkey riding high up in the air on a big breasted Shetland pony.

  “Hey,” he said, “hey, look at me. Do You Want One—Of Them Big Fat Mamas—Too,” he sang. It was a perfect mime of Wingy Manone’s chortling, whiskey-rusty vocal.

  “What do you mean, fat?” Sandra, who except for her breasts was very slender, said indignantly. “I’m not fat, sonny.”

  “I know it, baby,” Maggio said. “Dont call me sonny. I was ony speaking figurtively. Theres no call to get mad on me and insulting.

  “Hey, Prew,” he said, changing the subject. “Them sailors remind me of what I forgot to tell you. I see our chum Bloom down to the Tavern tonight.”

  “Yeah?” Prew said listlessly. “Who with?”

  “With a great big bastard of a queen he’s got on the string named Tommy who’s even bigger than Bloom is, if you can picture that.”

  “Oh,” Prew said. “Well, well.”

  “I cant picture it neither,” Maggio said. “Except he’s got a lot of shoulder for our boy to cry on. When Bloom seen me and I seen how he looked at me I begun to lookin around for a good big heavy chair.”

  “You meant he wasnt glad to see you?” Prew said.

  Maggio laughed. “He got a patch of tape as big as my mouth on that flat head. My boy Hal knows this Tommy well,” he said. “Thats what he said, first time he seen him with Bloom, he said: ‘Alas, poor Tommy, I knew him well.’”