| 2:50a |
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Yank, got a shilling or two?
Yank? Okay,
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Yank, got a shilling or two?
Yank? Okay, he mumbles
The blonde prostitutes to whom he makes loveOh, what a roll you got, Joolie, what a bloody bloody rollLieutenant Bradford now, I frig Peggy Reilly and Alice Stewart, I will be hero
Martinez looks at a blade of grassThe whip of the bullet is lost crying in the wildernessHe crawls, slithers behind a stumpThe grenade is heavy and dull in his palmHe lofts it into the air, hugs his head in the deep secret embrace(Momma's arms are great and her breasts are soft
Did ya get the sonofabitch?
Where the hell is he?
Martinez inches forwardThe Jap lies on his back with his chin jerked toward heavenThe white tripe of his gut makes a flower on the field of red
You're a good old bastard, Martinez
Martinez made sergeantLittle Mexican boys also breathe the American fablesIf they cannot be aviators or financiers or officers they can still be heroesNo need to stumble over pebbles and search the Texas skyAny man jack can be a hero
Only that does not make you white Protestant, firm and aloof
3
AN ARGUMENT was about to break in officers' messFor the last ten minutes Lieutenant Colonel Conn had been conducting a tirade against labor unions, and Lieutenant Hearn was getting restlessIt was a bad place to hold one's temperThe mess had been set up with a great deal of haste, and it was not really big enough to feed forty officersTwo squad tents had been connected, but even then it was rather cramped, not nearly roomy enough to hold six tables, twelve benches, and the equipment of the field kitchen at one e |