The man gave him the bottle quickly. He turned to the other civilian. ‘What makes him act so funny?’
‘No, no,’ said Schluss. ‘Listen, you soldiers drink if you want: we’ll look after you.’
The silent one added like a brother and Yaphank said:
‘They think we are trying to poison them. They think we are German spies, I guess.’
‘No, no! When I see a uniform, I respect it like it was my mother.’
‘Then, come on and drink.’
Schluss gulped and passed the bottle. His companion drank also and sweat beaded them.
‘Won’t he take nothing?’ repeated the silent one and Yaphank regarded the other soldier with compassion.
‘Alas, poor Hank,’ he said, ‘poor boy’s done for, I fear. The end of a long friendship, men.’ Cadet Lowe said sure, seeing two distinct Hanks, and the other continued. ‘Look at that kind, manly face. Children together we was, picking flowers in the flowery meadows; him and me made the middleweight mule-wiper’s battalion what she was; him and me devastated France together.
And now look at him.
‘Hank! Don’t you recognize this weeping voice, this soft hand on your brow? General,’ he turned to Lowe, ‘will you be kind enough to take charge of the remains? I will deputize these kind strangers to stop at the first harness factory we pass and have a collar suitable for mules made of dog-wood with the initials H.W. in forget-me-nots.’
Schluss in ready tears tried to put his arm about Yaphank’s shoulders. ‘There, there, death ain’t only a parting. Brace up; take a little drink, then you’ll feel better.’
‘Why, I believe I will,’ he replied; ‘you got a kind heart, buddy. Fall in when fire call blows, boys.’
Schluss mopped his face with a soiled, scented handkerchief and they drank again. New York in a rosy glow of alcohol and sunset streamed past breaking into Buffalo, and with fervent new fire in them they remarked the station. Poor Hank now slept peacefully in a spittoon.
Cadet Lowe and his friend being cold of stomach, rose and supported their companions. Schluss evinced a disinclination to get off. He said it couldn’t possibly be Buffalo, that he had been to Buffalo too many times. Sure, they told him, holding him erect, and the conductor glared at them briefly and vanished. Lowe and Yaphank got their hats and helped the civilians into the aisle.
‘I’m certainly glad my boy wasn’t old enough to be a soldier,’ remarked a woman passing them with difficulty, and Lowe said to Yaphank:
‘Say, what about him?’
‘Him?’ repeated the other, having attached Schluss to himself.
‘That one back there,’ Lowe indicated the casual.
‘Oh, him? You are welcome to him, if you want him.’
‘Why, aren’t you together?’
Outside was the noise and smoke of the station. They saw through the windows hurrying people and porters, and Yaphank moving down the aisle answered:
‘Hell, no. I never seen him before. Let the porter sweep him out or keep him, whichever he likes.’
They half dragged, half carried the two civilians and with diabolical cunning Yaphank led the way through the train and dismounted from a day coach. On the platform Schluss put his arm around the soldier’s neck.
‘Listen, fellows,’ he said with passion, ‘y’ know m’ name, y’ got addressh. Listen, I will show you ‘Merica preshates what you done. Ol’ Glory ever wave on land and sea. Listen, ain’t nothing I got soldier can’t have, nothing. ‘N’if you wasn’t soldiers I am still for you, one hundred pershent. I like you. I swear I like you.’
‘Why, sure,’ the other agreed, supporting him. After a while he spied a policeman and he directed his companion’s gait towards the officer. Lowe with his silent one followed. ‘Stand up, can’t you?’ he hissed, but the man’s eyes were filled with an inarticulate sadness, like a dog’s.
‘Do the best you can, then,’ Cadet Lowe softened, added, and Yaphank, stopped before the policeman, was saying:
‘Looking for two drunks, Sergeant? These men were annoying a whole trainload of people.
Can’t nothing be done to protect soldiers from annoyance? If it ain’t top sergeants, it’s drunks.’
‘I’d like to see the man can annoy a soldier,’ answered the officer. ‘Beat it, now.’
‘But say, these men are dangerous. What are you good for, if you can’t preserve the peace?’
‘Beat it, I said. Do you want me to run all of you in?’
‘You are making a mistake, Sergeant. These are the ones you are looking for.’
The policeman said, ‘Looking for?’ regarding him with interest.
‘Sure. Didn’t you get our wire? We wired ahead to have the train met.’
‘Oh, these are the crazy ones, are they? Where’s the one they were trying to murder?’
‘Sure, they are crazy. Do you think a sane man would get hisself into this state?’
The policeman looked at the four of them with a blasé eye. ‘G’wan, now. You’re all drunk. Beat it, or I’ll run you in.’
‘All right. Take us in. If we got to go to the station to get rid of these crazy ones, we’ll have to.’
‘Where’s the conductor of this train?’
‘He’s with a doctor, working on the wounded one.’
‘Say, you men better be careful. Whatcher trying to do — kid me?’
Yaphank jerked his companion up. ‘Stand up,’ he said, shaking the man. ‘Love you like a brother,’ the other muttered. ‘Look at him,’ he said, ‘look at both of ’em. And there’s a man hurt on that train. Are you going to stand here and do nothing?’
‘I thought you was kidding me. These are the ones, are they?’ he raised his whistle and another policeman ran up. ‘Here they are, Ed. You watch ’em and I’ll get aboard and see about that dead man. You soldiers stay here, see?’
‘Sure, Sergeant,’ Yaphank agreed. The officer ran heavily away and he turned to the civilians. ‘All right, boys. Here’s the bell-hops come to carry you out where the parade starts. You go with them and me and this other officer will go back and get the conductor and the porter. They want to come, too.’
Schluss again took him in his arms.
‘Love you like a brother. Anything got’s yours. Ask me.’
‘Sure,’ he rejoined. ‘Watch ’em, Cap, they’re crazy as hell. Now, you run along with this nice man.’
‘Here,’ the policeman said, ‘you two wait here.’
There came a shout from the train and the conductor’s face was a bursting bellowing moon. ‘Like to wait and see it explode on him,’ Yaphank murmured. The policeman supporting the two men hurried towards the train. ‘Come on here,’ he shouted to Yaphank and Lowe.
As he drew away Yaphank spoke swiftly to Lowe.
‘Come on, General,’ he said, ‘let’s get going. So long, boys. Let’s go, kid.’
The policeman shouted, ‘Stop, there!’ but they disregarded him, hurrying down the long shed, leaving the excitement to clot about itself, for all of them.
Outside the station in the twilight the city broke sharply its skyline against the winter evening and lights were shimmering birds on motionless golden wings, bell notes in arrested flight; ugly everywhere beneath a rumoured retreating magic of colour.
Food for the belly, and winter, though spring was somewhere in the world, from the south blown up like forgotten music. Caught both in the magic of change they stood feeling the spring in the cold air, as if they had but recently come into a new world, feeling their littleness and believing too that lying in wait for them was something new and strange. They were ashamed of this and silence was unbearable.
‘Well, buddy,’ and Yaphank slapped Cadet Lowe smartly on the back, ‘that’s one parade we’ll sure be A.W.O.L. from, huh?’
2
Who sprang to be his land’s defence
And has been sorry ever since?
Cadet!
Who can’t date a single girl
Long as kee-wees run the world?
Kay-det!
With food in their bellies and a quart of whisky snugly under Cadet Lowe’s arm they boarded a train.
‘Where are we going?’ asked Lowe. ‘This train don’t go to San Francisco, do she?’
‘Listen,’ said Yaphank, ‘my name is Joe Gilligan. Gilligan, G-i-l-l-i-g-a-n, Gilligan, J-o-e, Joe; Joe Gilligan. My people captured Minneapolis from the Irish and taken a Dutch name, see? Did you ever know a man named Gilligan give you a bum steer? If you wanta go to San Francisco, all right. If you wanta go to St Paul or Omyhaw, it’s all right with me. And more than that, I’ll see that you get there. I’ll see that you go to all three of ’em if you want. But why’n hell do you wanta go so damn far as San Francisco?’
‘I don’t,’ replied Cadet Lowe. ‘I don’t want to go anywhere especially. I like this train here — far as I am concerned. I say, let’s fight this war out right here. But you see, my people live in San Francisco. That’s why I am going there.’
‘Why, sure,’ Private Gilligan agreed readily. ‘Sometimes a man does wanta see his family — especially if he don’t hafta live with ’em. I ain’t criticizing you. I admire you for it, buddy. But say, you can go home any time. What I say is, let’s have a look at this glorious nation which we have fought for.’
‘Hell, I can’t. My mother has wired me every day since the armistice to fly low and be careful and come home as soon as I am demobilized. I bet she wired the President to have me excused as soon as possible.’
‘Why sure. Of course she did. What can equal a mother’s love? Except a good drink of whisky. Where’s that bottle? You ain’t betrayed a virgin, have you?’
‘Here she is.’ Cadet Lowe produced it and Gilligan pressed the bell.
‘Claude,’ he
