bubciampa0302

31.12.2010 um 00:43 Uhr

@@@@@ He looked at Croft, who had put on a clean 144

@@@@@ He looked at Croft, who had put on a clean fatigue uniformHe was squatting on his cot, sharpening his trench knife against a little whetstone he had withdrawn from his pocketHearn knew Croft perhaps best of all, or more exactly he had spent the most time with him that morning discussing the patrol, but actually he did not know him at allCroft had listened to him, had nodded, spat occasionally to the side, and answered him when necessary with a few bare words, uttered in a low toneless murmurCroft obviously handled the platoon well, he was tough and capable, and Hearn was reasonably certain that Croft resented himIt would be a difficult relationship to handle, for Croft knew more than he did yet, and unless he was careful the platoon would soon realize itAlmost with fascination, Hearn watched Croft working on his trench knifeHe brooded over it, his cold gaunt face examining his hands as he drew the blade back and forth against the stoneThere was something frozen about him, something congealed in the set of his tight mouth, the concentration of his eyesCroft was tough, all right, Hearn told himself The boat was turning now, angling against the swellsHearn grasped a strut more firmly as it jarred against a wave There was Sergeant Brown, whom he knew slightly; he was the one who looked like a boy with his snubbed nose and freckles and light-brown hairThe Typical American Soldier -- the agreeable composite hatched out of the tobacco smoke and hangovers of the advertising conferencesBrown looked like all the smiling soldiers in the advertisements, a trifle smaller, perhaps, plumper, more bitter than was permissibleBrown had an odd face actually, Hearn decidedUp close there were jungle sores on Brown's skin, and his eyes had become dull and remote, his skin had begun to wrinkleHe looked surprisingly old But, then, all the veterans didIt was simple to pick them outThere was Gallagher, who probably had always looked that way, but still he had been in the platoon for some timeAnd there was Martinez, who seemed more fragile, more sensitive than the othersHis fine features had been nervous, his eyes had blinked as he talked to Hearn that morningHe was the one you would pick instantly to crack up, and yet he was probably a good manA Mexican had to be to become a good nonco

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