@@@@@And yet he could not bear this continual 926
@@@@@And yet he could not bear this continual paradox in which he and the other officers livedIt had been different in the States; the messes were separate, the living quarters were separate, and if you made a mistake it didn't countBut out here, they slept in cots a few feet away from men who slept on the ground; they were served meals, bad enough in themselves, but nevertheless served on plates while the others ate on their haunches after standing in line in the sunIt was even more than that; ten miles away men were being killed, and that had different moral demands than when men were killed three thousand miles awayNo matter how many times he might walk through the bivouac area, the feeling was thereThe ugly green of the jungle beginning just a few yards beyond the barbed wire, the delicate traceries of the coconut trees against the sky, the sick yellow pulpy look of everything; all of them combined to feed his disgustHe trudged up the bluff again, and stood looking about the area at the scattered array of big tents and little ones, at the trucks and jeeps clustered together in the motor pool, the file of soldiers in green sloppy fatigues still filing through for chowMen had had time to clear the ground of the worst bushes and roots, to establish a few grudged yards out of the appalling rifeness of the terrainBut up ahead, bedded down in the jungle, the front-line troops could not clear it away because they did not halt more than a day or two, and it would be dangerous to expose themselvesThey slept with mud and insects and worms while the officers bitched because there were no paper napkins and the chow could stand improvement
There was a kind of guilt in being an officerThey had all felt it in the beginning; out of OCS the privileges had been uncomfortable at first, but it was a convenient thing to forget, and there were always the good textbook reasons, good enough to convince yourself if you wanted to be quit of itOnly a few of them still kicked the idea of guilt around in their heads
The guilt of birth perhaps
There was such a thing in the ArmyIt was subtle, there were so many exceptions that it could be called no more than a trend, and yet it was thereHe, himself: rich father, rich college, good jobs, no hardship which he had not assumed himself; he fulfilled it, and many of his friends did tooIt was not true so much for the ones he had known at collegeThey were 4-F, or enlisted men, or majors in the Air Corps, or top-secret work in Washington or even in CO camps, but all the men he had known in prep school were now ensigns or lieutenantsA class of men born to wealth, accustomed to obediencebut that made it incorrect alreadyIt wasn't obedience, it was the kind of assurance that he had, or Conn had, or Hobart, or his father, or even the GeneralA trace of his resentment returned againIf not for the General he would be doing now what he should have doneAn officer had some excuse only if he was in combat
