Basic Training Read Online Free PDF Page B

combination of jangled brains and an eight-inch Bowie knife would be reassuring to very few persons. But the last thing he wanted to do was to go against Hope’s judgment…
     
    “I told Banghart to quit at noon, and he got surly with me,” said the General as an aside, apparently seeing that Haley’s attention had wandered from the turning-point of World War II to the distant Mr. Banghart.
     
    “He didn’t even stop for lunch,” said Annie.
     
    “Too bad it’s just the nuts that work that hard,” said the General. “Seems like he does something like this every time the temperature gets above ninety. Remember the time he had the manure-spreader out until midnight?
That
was a hot day.” The General snickered. “Boy, the farm help you get these days. The darnedest thing happened this morning. I went over to the hog barn to watch Banghart feed the pigs. For no reason at all, he got sore as the devil when he saw me. He threw down the bucket, and can you imagine what he said?”
    “I can’t imagine. What did he say?” said Annie. Haley noted with distaste that her conversations consisted mainly of questions of this sort, and of echoes.
     
    “He told me that I was going to cross him up once too often, and get mine along with the rest of them. Can you imagine?” The General was laughing.
     
    “Maybe you’d better get rid of him,” Haley blurted.
     
    The General looked at him with surprise. “I’d sooner get rid of the tractor. He’s nothing to worry about. I’ve got him right under this.” The General held up a broad, flat thumb and winked. “Well, where was I? Oh, yes; ‘Send me up some 240s,’ I said, and…”
     
    Haley’s thoughts strayed again, taking him back to the events of lunchtime, when Roy Flemming, Kitty’s current love, had appeared in the kitchen, having walked into the house without knocking. Haley had never seen anything quite like Roy before. His red hair, his freckled moon-face and childish blue eyes were familiar enough, but his bearing and thin mustache seemed as out of keeping with these as an olive in the bottom of a milkshake. Haley wondered just what Roy imagined himself to represent. His swagger and attire — gleaming riding boots, enormously wide belt spangled with bits of colored glass; crushed and twisted Army officer’s hat, and polo shirt decorated with palm trees — might be proper, Haley decided, for the leader of a bandit band in a musical comedy.
     
    The General had spoken to Roy without looking up from his food. “Get out,” he had said. Kitty had told Roy to sit down, that her father was joking. The General had thereupon offered to fill his “smart young behind with bird-shot” if he showed up again.
     
    Roy had started to back out of the room, embarrassed, and bereft of all save the glittering trappings of his devil-may-care role. Kitty had dragged him back into the kitchen. “Tell him what you came for,” Kitty had said. Roy had managed to clear his throat several times, and that was all.
     
    “Well?” the General had said.
     
    “Sir, your daughter and I want to get married, sir,” Roy had said at last.
     
    “I’d see her first in Hell,” the General had said. He had stamped his foot suddenly, and Haley had jumped. “Scat!” Roy Flemming had fled…
     
    Haley’s recollection faded, as the General’s voice lifted from a monotone to a loud staccato. He was imitating the crash of 240 howitzer shells on a doomed German pillbox. “Ker-wham! Kerwham! Kerwham! After an hour of that — kerwham! — we sent the Second Battalion in — rattattattatat — and there wasn’t a Jerry left to fire a shot.” The General chuckled. Annie snickered appreciatively, and Haley forced a smile.
     
    “And then there was the time at Aachen, when the Jerries were using a church steeple for an observation post,” the General began afresh. His back was to the doorway, and he twisted around in his chair to see what it was behind him that was distracting