Nickie has enlisted in the woman’s Force in Columbo. They gave her an aptitude test and found her to be quite mechanically inclined. So she is undergoing training here and will then be transferred to Kandy to service automobiles in the British Motor Pool at headquarters SEAC. She came out to see me the other evening and let go a stream of oaths sixteen kilometers long. She really feels imprisoned, has had her own uniforms tailor-made, and looks remarkably, Nickishly seductive for all the drabness of the outfit.
It’s odd the funny tricks life plays.
My darling I’ve never prayed much but I pray hard for you now, and that you do well in the way that you must. And I pray hard that God will not let the woman in me be selfish and try to change you.… I am waiting,
Carla.
A little after noon there was a rent in the hugely breasted grey clouds. The sun came through and from the hills of their position they could see the steam rising from the jungle valleys below.
There was patroling and outposting but also drinking and resting. And in the early afternoon a small plane arrived and flew out the injured Kachin. His leg, the Doctor had said, would definitely have to be amputated.
Nautaung fed the monkey condensed milk with an eye dropper out of sight and sound of Scheherezade. And during the day many inquisitive soldiers came to the Headquarters Supply area to see the infant monkey with the odd white face and the honey colored coat.
Niven had received a new supply of comic books in the drop and was reading intently. And Ringa, after completing the airfield, had bathed and played casino with Billingsly in the headquarters supply. Billingsly was teaching him the language and an adept teacher he was, but Ringa was suspicious of him and had been ever since they played their first card game together. Ringa, who knew little of cards, somehow felt he was being cheated.
At sunset they started to gather at the headquarters. There was a meeting scheduled for six and they were coming early to drink of the new scotch and be sure they got a fair share of the venison from the freshly slain deer.
“That pilot really had a shit fit over the length of the field,” Ringa was saying to Doc Travis.
“I thought he was going to crack up for sure,” the Doc said.
Niven walked in.
“Did they bury that Guk yet?” Con asked him.
“He’s not dead yet,” Niven said flatly. “In fact he looks pretty good except for the splinter.”
“Impossible,” Doctor Travis said.
“What?” Con questioned.
“I just saw him,” Niven said. “They got him under a tree near where he was hit. How about a drink?”
“There’s the bottle,” Con pointed.
Con and Doc Travis got up. They were both holding bamboo scotch cups in their right hands. “We’ll go take a look,” Con said.
“There’s nothing to see,” Niven said. “He’s just lying there under a tree and those other beards are talking to him.”
“We’ll be back in a few minutes,” Con said. “Wait here, Niven, I’ve got another message to go.”
“Another one? Is that all you do is write messages?”
“I’d like to go along,” Ringa said softly.
“Come along,” Con said and the three of them walked off.
“I can’t believe it,” Doc Travis said still awed. “Medically speaking it’s impossible.”
“God,” Con said, “how he must have suffered. I wouldn’t have given him twenty minutes.”
“An hour tops,” Grey Travis said.
“In the belly, too,” Ringa said. “It hurts in the belly.”
There was still that rent in the clouds but wider and the setting sun blazed orange red reflecting an array of color. It was quiet now walking through the brush as nature changed shifts, but the damp air was perky with an edge of chill.
They saw the three Hindus squatting under the limbs of a banyan tree. They had branches in their hands and were fanning the flies away from the wounded Hindu on the ground. The wounded man was turned on his side and they saw the hilt of the great splinter in his bare, swollen, black and blue buttocks but they could not see his face.
They approached him warily and the wounded man looked up at them and smiled. There was normal color on his face and no trace of shock or pain in his eyes.
“How do you feel?” Doctor Travis asked softly.
Ringa was thinking that the three squatting men with their robes and beards looked like the three wise men in the Nativity pageant.
In elegant English the old Hindu replied, “I am going to die. I make my preparation. I am happy and I do not suffer.”
The three Indians had stopped brushing with the branches and several flies swarmed to the lone piece of gut wrapped around the point of the splinter where it came out the belly inches above the pubic hair. Then they began to brush and one of the old Hindus began to chant softly and then one of the others joined in the chant. The wounded one looked at the splinter without expression.
“Is he a holy man?” Doc Travis asked one of them.
“No. But he knows,” the Indian answered.
“Is it yoga?” the Doctor asked.
“It is God. He knows.”
“And he has forced himself to stop suffering?”
“I do not suffer,” the man with the splinter in him said. “He who at the last hour remembering Me only departs leaving the body, enters unto Me; of that there is no doubt.”
Con’s eyes moved quickly to the Doctor’s, then to Ringa, then back to the old man’s. There was sudden stillness. There seemed to be no wind or sound, nothing but an all pervading calm. The old man’s face had a sereneness none of them had ever seen before. It frightened Ringa for it reminded him of a painting of Christ. The face had a glorious glow.
“He quotes from the Scripture,” one of the other Hindus said.
And as the man spoke the earth seemed to move again. There was the chirping of birds and once the grunt of a tiger from the valley below, and the Doctor pictured the sinewy strength of the beast as it awoke and he saw it as he had never seen it before, a thing of beauty.
“God bless you old man, and I know that he has,” Doctor Travis said.
“Yes,” Ringa said wanting to get out of there.
“God be with you,” the old man said to them. “I invite you to help my friends celebrate my death,” he said smiling serenely.
Oh Jesus, Con said to himself, where does a man find that courage.
“Whatever form a man continually contemplates,” One of the other Hindus said, “that same form he remembers in the hour of his death, and to that very form he goes, O Kaunteya.”
The three Americans began backing away.
As a man lives he dies, Con thought.
I should not kid about the church, Ringa thought. Never again.
I am more than I thought I was, the Doctor thought.
And when they had shuffled back a respectful distance they turned and walked away.
“I’ll see you later,” Ringa said and cut away into the brush.
“Do you remember the crucifixion?” Doc Travis asked Con softly.
“What about it.”
“When one of the criminals said to Christ, ‘I believe that you are the Son of God.’”
“I remember,” Con said.
They stopped walking. There was only the dusk and the outline of each other.
Then the Doctor spoke again, “And Christ said: ‘Today thou shalt be with me in Paradise.’”
“I will never forget his face,” Con said. “I will never forget that old man as long as I live.”
When Con got back to headquarters he called Niven aside.
“I’m going to jump a man over you,” he said bluntly.
“Ringa?” Niven asked greyly.
“Yes,” Con said.
“He’s a good man,” Niven said weakly.
“I know you wanted it,” Con said. “And I wanted to give it to you.”
“It doesn’t make any difference,” Ni
ven said.
Con saw Niven swallow hard. “I know what it means to you as far as your family is concerned. But remember you’ve done a lot already. A lot more than any of them you’ve told me about. And you still have a chance. If it makes any difference to you if Ringa hadn’t joined us you’d have had it before Danforth.”
“That’s fair then,” Niven said sincerely, managing a weak smile.
It was tearing at Con. He had wanted to say that Niven was going to get a commission later on if he continued doing a good job but Niven would have to prove himself without the promise. Now what purpose would that serve? he asked himself suddenly. Why not give him the incentive. For Christ sake, you’re not here to mold men but to win a goddamn battle. You get ideas like a school teacher, sometimes.
“I’m giving Ringa a commission. You’ll get one in several weeks. But his comes first so you’ll know where you stand.”
“You mean it?” he smiled.
“I mean it, and don’t mention it to Ringa. I sent the recommendation out on the plane today. I don’t know when it will come through.”
After dinner Nautaung and the Doctor went over to headquarters supply. Nautaung thought the baby monkey had taken sick and wanted the Doc to have a look. While they were gone Niven came in with the evening message:
PEARSON TO REYNOLDSApril 17 44
RINGA SECOND LOUIE AS OF TODAY. SENDING PLANE FOR YOU DANNY A.M. CONFO KACHINS LEG AMPUTATED THIS P.M. CONDITION GOOD PLEASED TO NOTE CONGRESSIONAL APPROVAL TO PENSION ALL INCAPACITATED KACHINS UNDER MY COMMAND
PEARSON
“I’ll see you later,” Con said looking up at Niven.
“You too,” he said to Subadar Major Winston Smythe-Churchill. “Check the perimeter or something.”
Ringa started to get up.
“Stay here, Bill,” Con said.
Well, Ringa thought, remembering that night in the jeep and fog coming back from the whorehouse in Dibrugarh, well, they found that guy I murdered. But let’s face it, they could never prove it. Or they’d have a hell of a time.
“At two o’clock this afternoon I recommended you for a commission as a Second Lieutenant,” Con said and handed him the message. “Read this.”
For the first time in his life Bill Ringa couldn’t find the words.
“If you let this change your ways,” Con said, “you’re a damn fool. You got this for acting the way you have. There’s no reason for you to change. In three months you’ve gone from the Colonel’s driver to an officer with his own command which is pretty fast moving. But you have what is needed and you deserve it. I wish you the best of luck.”
Ringa still couldn’t believe it.
“Thanks Con,” he grinned awkwardly. “Gee, I don’t feel no different hardly.”
“I’m glad of that,” Con said. “I’m going to see the monkey. I’ll check with you later.”
Me, Ringa said to himself when Con had gone. Me an officer. A goddam second lootenent. They like me. Con said so himself. They trust me. Jesus, I’m somebody. Lootenent Bill Ringa. They put me over that Filipino with all his dough. And Niven with his education. They didn’t even try to bring anyone in over us.
I’m a gentleman, he giggled to himself, by act of Congress. I thought I was as good as them other guys but what did Con see in me? That Con was too damn smart sometimes. You never knew what the hell he was doing or thinking but he always did it right. He’s been good to me. He and the Colonel always been good to me.
Jesus, he said sitting on the ground and throwing out his chest, I don’t feel no different. Settle down, Ringa. For Christ’s sake, settle down. You act like a broad feeling it for the first time. This is the break. The one you said if you ever got you’d never let go of. And you ain’t going to. You’re going to be whatever you have to be but you’re going to do better and better. This is the beginning for you. Not the end. So what if you die? You’re dead. You might as well be dead as to spend your whole life fighting yourself like that Indian Danforth. There was no use for no man that wasn’t something. You had to take a chance. Besides, that was the fun, taking the chances. There wouldn’t be no thrill at all taking no chances. It’d be like having the same woman over and over. You might as well be dead. Who was that General you always admired. That big operator in Europe. General Walter Bedell Smith. Well, he started out like you, didn’t he? He was a chauffer like you. He didn’t have no education either. There was lots of guys. Hitler. And Suleiman. That was a guy. Suleiman. He ruled but he really treated the people fair no matter what them Christians said. He treated them all equal. And so the people stayed behind him and he got bigger and bigger. He almost run over Europe. That Nautaung was a pretty smart operator himself. Patience, he says, and to do one thing at a time wholly. I’ll bet Nautaung could wrap this country around one knee and use it for an Ace bandage. But he don’t feel like it. That’s O.K. too. A man should do what he feels like.
Jesus, am I supposed to give a party or something. I got to get a book on protocol. I shoulda paid more attention to protocol when I was driving for the Colonel. You see, Ringa, you never know. You never do.
The Hindu died in the night.
Con flew out for the conference the next morning. He already knew when he had first read the message, that a conference could only mean one thing. Stilwell had decided to gamble. He was going to try for the main Japanese airfield at Myitkyina. And if the rains came early.… Don’t say it, he thought, as the plane approached Ledo, don’t even think about it.
CHAPTER XXVIII
Con had deduced correctly. Stilwell was going to try for Myitkyina. Merrill’s force was to cross the six thousand foot Naura Hyket pass to Riptong north of Myitkyina, then storm the airfield in a surprise maneuver. It was a daring plan. Slight rains had begun to fall the day Con flew out and the grade to the pass was precipitous. Merrill himself had had a mild heart attack and would not be able to make the march. The Kachins were to scout the maneuver and provide its only intelligence.
Con returned two days after he had left. It was raining hard and the camp was a quagmire. Niven was running a fever. Lau’rel’s patrol was a day overdue. The infant monkey had taken sick and Scheherezade was concerned and remorseful. The night Con returned several Japs penetrated the perimeter. They killed one Kachin and wounded two others and in the confusion that ensued in the pitch black of the night and the rain five other Kachins wounded each other. The field was socked in and they couldn’t evacuate the wounded. One Kachin, certain to die without the proper attention, they shot.
Lau’rel came in with his patrol intact. Merrill’s force had wanted some specific information and Lau’rel had done a recon job for them.
“I could hardly refuse, y’know,” he said to Con. “They were so polite.”
Con turned to Ringa. “Would you have done it, Bill?”
“Hell no. Our job is to furnish information, not to do their local patrolling.”
“You’re an ass,” Con said to Lau’rel. “A damn fool. They took advantage of you. And they will every chance they get.”
“They get all the credit,” Niven said. “Did you see the theatre paper. Corporal Werner Katz, veteran of the Spanish Civil War and Guadacanal, was the first American to kill a Jap on the Asiatic Continent. Headlines, no less. Shit, I’d killed ten Japs myself while that bastard was still on the boat.”
“How many Japs?” Con grinned.
It was not raining but drizzling.
“Well, four anyhow,” Niven smiled.
They were sitting under a bamboo leanto around a small fire. Billingsly was cooking up a pot of coffee.
“Let’s get the count right,” Con said, “when you’re counting Japs. Danny’s had a hell of a time with the priest.”
“Is he still lying about the count?” Niven asked.
“He is,” Con said. “He told a Merrill’s patrol that there were a hundred Japs in a certain village. The patrol turned back. Danny pinned him down and he finally admitted that he hadn’t seen one Jap himself but a
Kachin had told him there were thirty. It turned out three had passed through the village the day before.”
“I say that’s dangerous,” Lau’rel said.
“That’s the understatement of the year,” Con said.
“Coffee ready, you characters,” Billingsly said.
It was damp and cold and Niven with a blanket wrapped around him began to shiver again.
“If we get some planes in here you’d better fly out for a few days,” Ringa suggested to him.
“I’m all right,” Niven said through chattering teeth.
“He wants to be a hero,” Con said.
“All I want is to be a lover.”
“You are,” Con said. “I’ll vouch for that. A lover of grandmothers. Remind me to tell you boys about Junior’s exploits up at Mosorrie.”
“Up mine,” Niven sulked.
“I smelled the stationery from one of her letters,” Ringa said. “I’ll settle for that.”
The Doctor came in.
“We lost another of the wounded,” he said. “The one that was shot in the neck. He started to hemorrhage and choked to death.”
“Where was the orderly?” Con asked incisively.
“He wasn’t ten feet away. He was giving another one plasma. The boy hardly made a sound. He was in pretty bad shock and doped.”
“Well what do you want me to do about it?” Con said meanly.
“He was a Christian,” the Doctor said softly.
“Get the Bible, Niven,” Con said.
Niven reached over to the book-bag and got the Bible and handed it to him. Con turned the black book over in his hand. He threw it to the unsuspecting Ringa.
“You know how to read the burial service?” Con asked.
“No, I’ve never done anything like this,” Ringa said.
“It’s marked with that red ribbon. Outlined with a pencil. Then in the back there’s some paper with the prayers. One set for the Protestants. Another for the Catholics. What was he, Doc?”
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