by Mac Hyman
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Title: No Time For Sergeants
Date of first publication: 1954
Author: Mac Hyman, 1923-1963
Date first posted: July 3, 2015
Date last updated: July 3, 2015
Faded Page eBook #20150702
This ebook was produced by: Marcia Brooks, Al Haines, Cindy Beyer & the online Distributed Proofreaders Canada team at http://www.pgdpcanada.net
MAC HYMAN
No Time
For Sergeants
RANDOM HOUSE
NEW YORK
Sixteenth Printing
Copyright, 1954, by Mac Hyman. All rights reserved
under International and Pan-American Copyright
Conventions. Published in New York by Random House, Inc.,
and simultaneously in Toronto, Canada, by Random House
of Canada, Limited.
Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 54-9435
Manufactured in the United States of America
Design by Jerome Kuhl
TO WILLIAM BLACKBURN
“This is definitely a violation of regulations.”
General Mark Clark’s comment
on the prisoner uprising in Korea.
NO TIME FOR SERGEANTS
No Time For Sergeants
1
The thing was, we had gone fishing that day and Pa had wore himself out with it the way he usually did when he went fishing. I mean he went at it pretty hard and called the fish all sorts of names—he lost one pretty nice one and hopped up in the boat and banged the pole down in the water which was about enough to scare a big-sized alligator away, much less a fish, and he spent most of the afternoon after that cussing and ranting at everything that happened. And all he caught was one catfish which warnt much bigger than the worm he was using, and he got finned by that, so by the time I brought the boat back in, he was setting in the front with the back of his neck red and his jaws moving in and out, the way he gets when he is upset, not speaking to me at all.
So after we walked the four miles back to the house, he didnt care to eat right then, so he set down on the porch and pulled his hat down over his eyes and leaned his head back against the post to doze a bit which I’ve seen him do for as long as four hours on the straight sometimes. So I seen he was settled for a while and I got out my harp and begun playing a few pieces. And in a little bit, he was snoring and his foot was patting up and down in time to the tune I was playing, so I played a fast one and watched it bounce a bit, and then a slow one to calm him down again—anyhow, I was kind of enjoying it as it was quiet by that time; it was about sundown and the dogs was laying around the yard only opening their eyes every once in a while to make sure one of them didnt get fed before the other one, and the chickens was clucking easy and comfortable about the yard, and the fields across the way were kind of pink-colored the way they get sometimes when the sun is going down, so I was kind of enjoying the quiet and all, and taking it real easy that way, when all of a sudden I seen my dog Blue raise up his head and perk his ears and set there a minute, and then stare at me with this real puzzled look on his face.
Well, I wouldnt have thought nothing of it if it had of been any other dog, but Blue warnt the kind of dog that ever looked puzzled about anything much. I mean he was one of the smartest dogs I ever seen in my life and pretty stuck-up about it too—like when he points a bird for you, he makes out it warnt nothing for him to do and acts kind of casual about it and all and watches you with this real disgusted look on his face—I mean I dont guess he had ever come right out and showed he was puzzled about anything much before in his life before then.
So I really couldnt figger it for a minute. I stopped playing and listened and didnt hear nothing at first, and it was a few seconds before I made it out myself. What it was, was this far off moaning sound somewhere, and then it come to me what was bothering Blue because it sounded like a car to me. So I knowed why he was puzzled then because I dont guess he has seen no moren two cars in his whole life and they was more like wagons than they was cars, and I guess you might as well say that one of them was a wagon because this one that my uncle had didnt have no motor in it and he usually just hitched a mule to the front to pull it along, and a lot of folks would probably think it was just a wagon, and especially a dog would. So Blue must have thought it was a motorboat or something and couldnt figger what it was doing coming from that direction as the river was way down behind the house and there warnt nothing in front but a road, and not much of a road at that, only some weeds with ruts on either side, and he had sense enough to know that no boat would be coming down that way; so he was right puzzled about it all right.
Anyhow, the sound kept getting louder and the other dogs started whining and looking around at me, and the chickens begun trotting this way and that like they do when a storm is coming up, and I stood up on the lookout for it. Then it sounded like it was almost roaring, and about that time it heaved into sight around the edge of the woods. And you should have heered the racket set up then. The dogs got to barking and howling and the chickens started squawking, running this way and that, and then the car come busting up in front of the place with dust behind it in long billows, turning and heading right toward the house like it was aimed for it. Blue took off for the woods with most of the hounds running ducktailed behind him, barking and looking back over their shoulders; the chickens went around in circles trying to dodge it, which was probably as good a way as any with the car wobbling the way it was; they darted here and there, only most of them never made any headway at all and got knocked aside and went fluttering off, all but one that went straight up in the air and came down on the hood and set there right calm for a second, thinking she had got out of the way of it, but then turning and seeing the house heading for her, and setting up about twice as much of a ruckus about that.
So it was pretty much of a surprise to me too because for a minute there it looked like the car warnt going to stop at all. I mean it come heading right for us and didnt begin to stop until it was about thirty feet from the porch; and then it jolted with dust blowing up past it, and stopped, and jumped forward again and finally come to a halt, and then the door slammed and this little, fat, round-faced fellow come walking through the cloud of dust talking just as hard as he could. I mean that’s just the way he done too. All you could hear was the door slam and see him coming through the dust with his mouth going. You couldnt hear what he was saying, though—all you could hear was sounds and see his mouth moving because there was so much racket all around, and it really was surprising. I mean it looked like he was raving somehow—he was either doing that or preaching and it didnt seem natural to me that a fellow would come riding up in a car that way and jump out and start preaching even though I did know one fellow who used to jump at you from behind the bushes and start preaching—but it didnt seem that way somehow; and with all the racket going on, you couldnt tell what he was doing.
Anyhow, Pa usually warnt in so good a humor when he woke up easy and casual—I mean it usually took him a half hour or so to manage it and he warnt in much of a
humor then; and waking up with dogs barking and chickens howling and a man stomping up and talking that way was pretty much of a shock to him any way you look at it. I seen his eyes blinking and his jaws moving before he was halfway up; then he stood there a second, shaking his head trying to get his bearings, and looking down at the fellow like he hadnt ever seen anything like him in his life before. And all this time the man kept on talking—I caught the words “. . . want to see Will Stockdale; now is that you or aint it because I’ve been riding for . . .” but that was all I could make out—but he kept on with it, and then he raised one finger up and started wiggling it at me, saying something else, but about that time Pa lit into him with about the only thing he could think of at the time, I guess, being half-asleep the way he was; he yelled out, “Dont you pint your finger in my boy’s face!”
So that kind of stopped the fellow for a second; he turned and looked at Pa and Pa’s face turned a little redder, and then he bellowed it out again, “Dont you pint your finger in my boy’s face!” which should have quieted him down for a while, only it didnt, because the next thing I knowed, there he was telling Pa he just ought to keep out of the whole thing, that he was there to see me and not him, and that it warnt Pa’s business.
“Not my business?” Pa said. “Just what in the hell do you mean by that, sir?”
“Look,” the fellow said. “I came out here to see this boy and I . . .”
“Just what do you mean, not my business,” Pa said to him; and for a minute he was leaned so far over him, it looked like he might just fall right on top of him.
But then the fellow come back with something else, and Pa kept coming back at him. The fellow was trying to tell what he wanted to see me about and I got right curious, only he never got to finish because all Pa could talk about was him going around pointing his finger in my face, and it warnt much of an argument with both of them talking about different things that way and all.
But finally Pa out-yelled him and got him onto his argument, but then the fellow said that it was his finger and my face and it was his business where he pointed it, and Pa come back with, “Not on my property, it aint,” and then the fellow got off the point again and said if he had property like ourn, he sho wouldnt go around bragging about it, and then Pa come back by saying, “I dont care about that but one thing I aint going to stand for as long as I am a man is having somebody going around pinting their fingers in people’s faces on my property,” which was a pretty long thing to say in one bellow and left him so wore out he was kind of gasping before he finished.
But then the other fellow managed to get in a few more words, and he said, “Look, I dont care nothing about all that and I didnt come out here to talk to you nohow. I’m from the draft board and I’m out here to see this boy and that’s our business and . . .”
“By God, on my property . . .” Pa said.
“That aint got nothing to do with it,” the man said. “If this boy knows what’s good for him, he’ll get in that car right now and head back to town with me and we wont have any more trouble about it. You folks out here think just because you live ten thousand miles from town, you dont have to do things like anybody else, but I’m here to tell you different. I’ve been over roads that aint even been discovered yet and down trails that nothing but a horse and wagon has been down, and this is the third time I’ve tried to find this place, and I mean it’s the last time too!”
And he kept on like that for a pretty good while and kept Pa from busting in again, but then he said, “I’ve wrote you four letters and havent had an answer to none of them and you neednt say you cant read neither because you could have got somebody to read them to you, so that aint no excuse!” which was about the most foolish thing he could have said, it seemed like to me, because Pa warnt going to take that from nobody.
And he didnt neither. He drawed himself up real quick with his eyes all lit up and looked down on the fellow and just bellowed out at him, “By God, sir, do you mean to stand here and say to my face that my son cant read!”
“Now look,” the fellow said.
“Do you mean to come busting up here and not say Howdy or nothing and say my son cant read and expect him to go hopping in that car like you said? Do you think my son who has gone to school and has read more times than you could shake a stick at couldnt answer a puny little ole letter if he wanted to? By God, man, let me tell you . . .”
“All right,” the fellow said. “Then there aint any excuse at all for him not answering them letters . . .”
“Letter?” Pa said. “By God, sir, I dont think I can stand to listen to any more of this . . .”
“Well, that’s all right with me. Now . . .”
“Nosir!” Pa said. “What you think dont mean nothing to me, but I’m going to make you eat them words just the same. Will, you go in the house and get that book and let’s see about this thing here and now and not have no more foolishness about it.”
And he stood there with his arms folded and his mouth clamped together, so there warnt nothing much I could do but go get it; and when I got back, he hadnt budged, so I set down on the steps and opened it up. Then Pa said, “Go ahead, Will,” without even looking at me, and so I read him a couple of pages out of it. It was about this little boy named Tony who wanted a pony and how he went to work for a man so he could buy it, but he never made enough money, so the man finally just give it to him because he worked so hard. But I never got to the end of it because Pa raised up his hand all of a sudden, and I stopped, and he lowered his hand and said, “All right, that’s enough of that one. Now go in and get the Bible and let’s hear a few of them words in there.”
“Now look, I dont care anything about that,” the fellow said. “I . . .”
“Go on, Will,” Pa said. “I want to get this here thing straightened out once and for all, by God.”
So I went in and got the Bible and when I come back out, Pa still had his arms folded, so I set back down on the steps and give him a dose of that one too. I read him a few lines about that fellow that warnt a nigger but was called Abraham, and I done pretty good with it, I think, only I didnt get to finish it neither because the fellow busted in again, saying, “I’ve had enough of all this. I’m asking you for the last time now. Are you going to get in that car and go back into Callville with me or are we going to have to come out here and get you?”
And that set Pa off again so that he done some pretty fierce cussing right up in the man’s face and asked him what he meant by that and all; and when the fellow said, “I mean just what I say. They’ll come out here and take him if he dont come with me and they can do it too!” it looked like Pa was going to tear into him all of a sudden. He rared back with his chest poking out and his face turning red and lifted his fist up and bellowed out, “Off my property!” so loud that the fellow’s face turned right white. He started going backward, looking at Pa with his eyes wide, while Pa kept making these noises in his throat; and then he turned and headed for the car and slammed the door and started driving out just about as fast as he had been coming in before.
Pa was right wild by that time, too; he run around until he found himself a rock and he heaved it at the car just as it was turning off onto the road, but he missed it and hit my dog Blue instead, as Blue was just coming out of the woods about that time, so that Blue looked right at him and gave this yelp and headed back for the woods again; and by the time Pa could find another rock, the car was gone and there warnt nothing left but dust floating across the ditch.
Anyhow, after things settled down a bit, Pa was right wore out from it all. He set down on the steps to rest, looking weak and trembly all over; he kept shaking and turning white in the face and when I tried to talk with him, he didnt have nothing to say. He would just rub his hands over his face and shake his head and lean back against the post again.
But after a little bit, he begun to feel better and talk some, even though he didnt sound much like the same man as before. He shook his head and looked at the gro
und and spoke real soft and sad, and said how it warnt right for folks to act that way. He said it was sinful to get mad with folks too, and he felt right bad about it. He said, “Will, why dont you read a little more out of that Bible again?” and I said, “Yessir, why dont you just rest a while,” and reached over and got it and read to him for a spell. He set there listening, nodding his head up and down, and I read a part with a lot of big words in it, and I done pretty good with it, I think. I throwed in a lot of Thees and Thous and Verilys and things like that, and when I hit some of the big names, I just called them Sam or Joe or whatever come into my head, but he didnt know the difference; he nodded his head up and down, looking like he felt better already. I read, “And he saideth verily thee unto thou,” and he cleared his throat and said, “That’s the truth, too, Will. That’s the truth.”
So I read a little more and after a while he begun talking more about how folks ought to be good to one another and not bear false witness and not worship no false idols and stuff like that, and seemed to perk up a good bit thinking about it. He got to going about as good as most preachers until he got hungry and begun smacking his lips and wiping his mouth as he talked, so finally I said, “Why dont you just rest a while and I’ll go in and get some supper ready?” Because by that time I had decided that the draft didnt sound like such a bad idea to me and I had just as soon go like the fellow said, and I wanted him kind of rested and comfortable and kind of holy feeling, the way he got when his stomach was full, so I could tell him in a kind of casual way and not get him upset no more.
So I went in and fixed up just what he liked best—grits and side meat and toast and coffee—and had it steaming on the table when I called him in. He pulled up his chair on one side and I pulled mine up on the other, and he went at it real steady because nothing makes him more hungry than getting mad; and I kept quiet most of the meal waiting for a chance to bring it up to him. He set there eating with his jaw stopping every once in a while, kind of looking off into space like he was thinking, and then starting up again when he got whatever it was that bothered him straight in his head. He cleaned up one plate and started on another and I set there sipping my coffee, and then he got up and started pacing up and down the room, his chin kind of hung down on his chest, thinking all along. He put his hands behind him and walked from one end of the room to the other, nodding his head like he was talking to himself.
