Blackbone Read Online Free PDF

concrete floor and drainage. The floor sloped sharply toward the drain, and Gilman noted a thick soapy scum around the sides. Overhead were shower pipes with unnozzled spouts.
    “Hot water?” he asked Hopkins.
    Hopkins took him outside and showed him the jury-rigged water heater, fed by a coal-burning stove. It was stone cold, and there was no coal in the bin.
    “How often do you shower?” Gilman asked Steuben.
    “Whenever we can heat the water,” Steuben replied.
    “How often is that?”
    “Now and then.”
    “Major, would you care to register a complaint?”
    Steuben studied him carefully, unsure how to answer that. He still hadn’t figured out whose side Gilman would be on. “Not at this time,” he said.
    Gilman glanced at Hopkins, who shrugged. “Want to see your quarters, Major?” he asked.
    “I’m not through here.” Gilman motioned to Steuben and they went back into the shower hut. Gilman asked about towels, soap, toilet paper, supplies in general.
    Steuben thought for a while, then said, “We have been short of these things in the past. Very short. But then, magically, they appear.” He threw a look at Hopkins.
    Hopkins snorted. “Sir, I think you should be directing those questions to me,” he said.
    “Okay.” Gilman turned and looked him square in the eye. Hopkins motioned toward the mess hut and they all trooped after him.
    Half the hut was a mess hall, crowded with tables and benches. There was a coal-burning stove in one corner. Behind another plywood partition was the kitchen, small and cramped. And beyond that, a locked pantry. Hopkins opened it and turned on the light. Inside, he displayed stacks of food—canned meats, soups, and vegetables by the gallon; sacks of flour, rice, and salt; crates of oranges and fresh vegetables. It was more than well-stocked—it was stuffed with food that Steuben hadn’t seen in months. And he said so.
    Hopkins smiled. “Oh, come on, Major. You know damn well there’s a war on. There’re always shortages. We got lucky this week. Big shipment came in.”
    “And when did you bring it into the camp?” Steuben asked. “In the dead of night? When we were all sleeping?”
    “Sure. Made for a lot less fuss.”
    “Why wasn’t I informed?”
    “Don’t you like surprises?”
    Hopkins was enjoying his little joke.
    “What about coal for the stoves?” asked Gilman. “Blankets?”
    Hopkins took them out to a padlocked shed behind the mess hut. Opening it, he displayed two huge bins filled with coal. “Blankets came in yesterday,” he added. “Still out in our supply shack. Haven’t sorted them yet. But we’ll have them distributed today.”
    He stood back and rocked on his heels, happy.
    Steuben turned to Gilman, flushed with anger. “Major, this is all for show. These items have been requisitioned for months, but we have always been given the same excuse—there’s a war on. We are forced to live with shortages.” He pointed to the full coal bins. “ This is not normal!”
    Gilman quietly asked, “Now do you want to make a formal complaint?”
    Steuben shook his head. “Your concern is enough.”
    Gilman nodded. By now, he had Steuben pegged. Career soldier, army man down to his toes, responsible, unselfish, and proud. Bruckner reminded him of an eagle-eyed accountant and seemed out of place as a soldier. Tight-lipped, brooding, and suspicious, he clung to his dog’s leash and carefully kept the animal away from Hopkins.
    Hopkins was only one thing, with or without the uniform—a bully.
    Gilman turned on his heel and walked away from the huts, heading for the warning wire, then beginning a hike around the perimeter. The others followed. The Germans hung back a little, but Hopkins caught up.
    Hopkins said nothing for a long time, and Gilman had the feeling he was being gauged. “We do the best we can,” Hopkins finally said. “But after all, sir, they are Germans.”
    “How goddamned observant of you, Hopkins.”
    “Sir—”
    “Now