by Len Levinson
“You got your head up your ass again, Frankie,” Bannon said. “All of us, including Butsko, will be in more trouble than ever if you shoot the looie.”
Frankie shrugged. “Maybe you’re right.”
“I know what we gotta do,” said Pfc. Shaw, who had been a professional heavyweight boxer before the war. “We gotta shape up and really soldier hard. That way we’ll look good and Butsko’ll look good, and maybe, when we get back into combat again, the looie will get shot and Butsko’ll wind up in charge again. When the shit hits the fan, the colonel will know that only one man can run the recon platoon, and that’s Butsko, whether the colonel likes it or not.”
“Yeah,” said Nutsy Gafooley, “but what if the new looie doesn’t get shot?”
“Oh,” replied Frankie La Barbara, “I think he’ll get shot. Anything can happen in combat. They say the road to Tokyo is gonna be paved with dead looies.”
“Jesus,” Bannon said, “can you guys ever mink of doing something without killing somebody.”
“All I know,” Frankie told him, “is that a good looie is a dead looie.”
A few of the men grunted in assent. Longtree sat silently nearby and sharpened his bayonet. He saw a light go on for an instant in Butsko’s tent and then go out again. Butsko was lighting another cigarette. What was he thinking about all alone in his tent? What was he doing? Was he going nuts? Longtree shook his head sadly. It was bad for everybody when a great warrior like Butsko lost his power. There will be many bad days ahead for the recon platoon, Longtree thought unhappily.
TWELVE . . .
The next morning after chow the recon platoon was policing their bivouac area, tightening the guy lines of their tents, and performing all the other tasks that needed to be done before beginning the day of training.
Nutsy Gafooley was hammering in one of his tent pegs, when suddenly the day grew dark all around him. Somebody was blocking the sun, and he turned around to see a hulking man standing behind him like a giant.
“What’s your name, soldier?”
“Who wants to know?” asked Nutsy Gafooley.
A massive hand descended from heaven and landed on Nutsy’s neck, grabbing his collar and nearly knocking him unconscious. The hand pulled Nutsy to his feet and turned him around, so Nutsy could see the shiny silver lieutenant’s bars on his collar and hat.
“I said what’s your name, soldier?” Lieutenant Breckenridge asked again, holding Nutsy suspended in the air.
“Private Marion Gafooley, recon platoon, Twenty-third Regiment, sir!”
“Find Sergeant Cameron and tell him I want to see him on the double.”
“Yes, sir.”
Lieutenant Breckenridge dropped Nutsy, who hit the ground running, heading for the place where he’d last seen Sergeant Cameron. Lieutenant Breckenridge stood with his arms dangling at his sides and let his eyes rove over the platoon area, which looked neat and orderly, not the dump he’d expected to find. Evidently the recon platoon knew how to soldier. All they needed was some leadership, and that he intended to provide.
Just as he looked over the men, they quickly became aware of his presence and examined him from a safe distance.
“Big son of a bitch, ain’t he?” Bannon said to Frankie La Barbara.
“Looks pretty mean too,” Frankie replied.
“He’s even bigger than Shaw.”
“I think he’s bigger than Shaw, me, and you put together.”
Nutsy found Sergeant Cameron and brought him to Lieutenant Breckenridge. Cameron was a pleasant young man who wasn’t outstanding in any way but had never done anything blatantly wrong and therefore had become the platoon sergeant by default. He marched up to Lieutenant Breckenridge and saluted.
“Sergeant Cameron reporting, sir.”
Lieutenant Breckenridge returned the salute. “I’m your new platoon leader. My name is Breckenridge—Lieutenant Dale Breckenridge. Form up your platoon in that clearing over there so I can talk with them.”
“Yes, sir!”
Sergeant Cameron saluted and dashed off, hollering orders. The men broke off their police calls and work on the tents, double-timing toward the clearing and forming four squad ranks. Butsko crawled out of his tent and stood up, and his eyes fell on the huge lieutenant on the other side of the clearing. Breckenridge appeared to be looking in his direction.
So that’s him, Butsko thought. Well, well, well.
Butsko took his position in the First Squad, which was Bannon’s former squad, now led by Pfc. Longtree. The men dressed right and covered down. They stood at attention as Lieutenant Breckenridge sauntered to the front of the formation and accepted the salute of Sergeant Cameron.
“At ease!” shouted Lieutenant Breckenridge.
The men kicked out their left legs and clasped their hands behind their backs, then relaxed into the at-ease position. Lieutenant Breckenridge’s eyes swept back and forth over them; he looked immense in comparison to Sergeant Cameron, who was only five feet ten inches tall.
“I guess you men know who I am,” the big officer said, “but in case you don’t, I’m Lieutenant Dale Breckenridge, your new platoon leader.” He paused to let that sink in. The men’s faces were immobile. “Now I’ve heard that you’re a pretty tough bunch and I’m glad to know that, because I wouldn’t want to command a platoon of sissies and cowards. You’re also supposed to be hard to handle, but that’s okay with me, because the best soldiers are always a little hard to handle. I’m the first officer the recon platoon has ever had, and you probably don’t like the idea of having me around, but I’ve been assigned to you and we both have to make the best of things. If you want to make things hard for me, I’ll make things hard for you. Make them easy for me, and I’ll make them easy for you. You can have it any way you want it. I’d rather take things easy, but I don’t mind it when things get tough. When the going gets tough, the tough get going. That’s the way I see it.” He paused. “In a few weeks more or less we’re going to New Georgia, and we’re going to start training intensively starting tomorrow. It won’t be easy, but I won’t ask you to do anything I wouldn’t do myself. Any man who fucks off will be on my shit list. The man who does what he’s told will get along just fine; I’ll back him up one hundred percent in anything he does. But the man who gets on my shit list will wish he was dead. Any questions so far?”
Nobody said anything. The recon platoon stood as still as forty statues lined up in the jungle, and nobody batted an eyelash.
“Good,” said Lieutenant Breckenridge. “Now, there’s one last thing: If anybody has any legitimate complaint, I’m always available. I don’t want you to waste my time with every silly problem that comes along, but if anything serious comes up, let me know and I’ll do what I can. We’re all in this war together, and if we stick together and help each other, we stand a chance of getting home in one piece someday. I’m not a career officer, gentlemen. I want to go home too. Any questions?”
Nobody said anything.
“Okay,” said Lieutenant Breckenridge. “I want Private Butsko to report to me after this formation is dismissed. Platoon—atten-hut! Fall out!”
The platoon formation broke apart as Butsko walked forward toward Lieutenant Breckenridge. The others watched Butsko’s trajectory, expecting a major confrontation and explosion. They knew Breckenridge wanted to put Butsko in his place, otherwise ‘ he wouldn’t have called Butsko forward; and they knew Butsko definitely would not let himself be put in any place.
Butsko advanced and threw a snappy salute. “Private Butsko reporting, sir!” he said loudly, his shirt sleeves showing the discoloration where his master’s sergeant’s stripes had been.
Lieutenant Breckenridge measured him with his eyes, noticing the huge broad shoulders, expanse of chest, battered nose, and scarred face. Butsko reminded him of a bulldog who’d been in too many fights.
“Let’s sit down someplace and have a talk.” Breckenridge said. “You know this area better than I do. Where’s a good spot?”
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“Right over this way, sir.”
“Lead the way.”
Butsko veered off into the jungle, and Lieutenant Breckenridge walked at his side. Neither of them said a word, but Butsko couldn’t help being aware of how much bigger Breckenridge was than he; it was an usual experience, because usually he was bigger than most of the men he met. Breckenridge looked like he was all muscle, with a cockiness that indicated he wasn’t afraid to use what he had. Lieutenant Breckenridge would be nobody to fuck with, that was for sure. That must be why the colonel had assigned him to take over the recon platoon, Butsko figured.
They walked through the jungle and came to a small clearing eight feet in diameter, away from all the tents and the latrine. “This okay?” Butsko asked.
“It’s fine. Have a seat.”
Both dropped down on the grass and fallen leaves. Mosquitoes and other insects buzzed around their heads, and the odor of decaying vegetation filled their nostrils.
Lieutenant Breckenridge took out a pack of Camels and held it to Butsko. “Cigarette?”
“Thanks,” said Butsko, taking one.
Lieutenant Breckenridge took a cigarette for himself and lit both with his Zippo, blowing smoke into the air.
“I guess you’re not too happy about me being here,” Lieutenant Breckenridge said, “right?”
Butsko shrugged. “It don’t mean a fuck to me one way or another.”
“I don’t believe that. You don’t want an officer running this platoon any more than you want another nose.”
“Believe what you wanna believe, sir.”
Lieutenant Breckenridge smiled. “You don’t resent me being here just a little bit?”
“Maybe a little bit,” Butsko admitted. “But not much.”
“I’ve been looking at your records,” Lieutenant Breckenridge said, “and you’ve had quite a military career. I guess I have to admit that you have more military experience than I do. I know all about you, and maybe it’s only fair that I tell you something about me, so that we understand each other. You may be a private right now, but you and I both know that you’re still the most powerful man in this platoon, and both of us have to face that, right?”
“Maybe.”
“You’re being coy, Private Butsko.”
“You’re talking some strange shit, Lieutenant Breckenridge.”
“Maybe I am, but I’m gonna keep on talking it.” Lieutenant Breckenridge spit into the grass and leaves. “I wanna get one thing straight with you. I’m only in this Army for the duration, and then I’m getting out. I was drafted into the Army—I didn’t enlist—and I became an officer because I didn’t want to put up with the crap that enlisted men have to put up with. I have no real ambitions in the Army except that I want to get out alive, and I’d like to be a company commander because I like to have as much control over my life as I can. Do you follow me so far?”
Butsko grunted.
“You’re a career soldier,” Lieutenant Breckenridge said, “and from what I know about you, you’re a good soldier. You’ve made this recon platoon into an outfit that’s talked about all over this island, but you have a problem: You can’t deal with civilian life. Most of your problems have been off post, except for the time you punched an officer at Fort Sill and broke his jaw. You tend to be insubordinate at times, which gets you into trouble. But none of that matters to me. I don’t care how crazy you are. All I know is that you’re the unofficial platoon sergeant of the recon platoon. Everybody knows that and so do I. So do you. So let’s start from there.”
“You’re wrong,” Butsko said. “I’m just a private in the ranks and that’s all I wanna be.”
“Bullshit. You can fool yourself, but you can’t fool me. But all that’s beside the point. My concern is me. You can make my job tough or you can make it easy. You can work with me or you can work against me. If you decide to work against me, you’ll find out that you can’t push me around like some of the other young lieutenants. The colonel assigned me here, which means that I have a certain amount of power, and I’m not afraid to use power. If you make my life difficult, I’ll make your life difficult. You help me and I’ll help you. We’re going to New Georgia pretty soon, and if you’re the man I think you are, and the soldier I think you are, I’ll make sure you’ll have all your stripes back pretty soon. But if you want to be foolish, New Georgia just might become your graveyard. Get my drift?”
“Yeah,” said Butsko, “but you’re wrong about one thing: I don’t want my stripes back. I just wanna be an ordinary soldier in the ranks, without any responsiblity and headaches. You can have the responsibility and headaches. Fuck those stripes.”
Lieutenant Breckenridge chuckled. “I wonder if you’re bullshitting me or bullshitting yourself.”
“I’m telling the truth.”
“Then you’re bullshitting yourself, because you’re a born leader and you know it. You’ll always rise to the top. You’ll get bored in the ranks because you know that you can do things better man Sergeant Cameron and even better than me. You’ll want to take over and you should take over. This is your platoon. I don’t want it. I want a company, and the colonel told me I can have it if I run this platoon smoothly for a while. So you can have this platoon back if you play your cards right. We can both get what we want if we cooperate. How do you feel about that?”
“Well,” said Butsko, looking Lieutenant Breckenridge in the eye. “I’m a soldier. I don’t know nothing else except soldiering, and a soldier follows orders and does his duty. That’s the way it’s gonna be between you and me. I’m gonna follow orders and do my duty, because that’s all I know. If I get my stripes and this platoon back, I guess that wouldn’t bother me too much. If I don’t, that’s okay by me too. I can take it either way. That’s what I’m gonna do.”
“That’s good enough for me,” Lieutenant Breckenridge said.
“There’s one more thing,” Butsko replied. “I’m always looking out for myself and my friends. If somebody tries to get us into trouble, I’m gonna step in. I’m telling you that to your face right now, so you’ll know in advance.”
“I’ll listen to your advice anytime, Butsko, and in fact I’ll welcome it. We’ll have no problems there.” He held out his hand. “Let’s shake on it.”
“I don’t shake hands with officers,” Butsko said.
Lieutenant Breckenridge withdrew his hand but didn’t seem bothered. “Have it your own way. I don’t have anything more to say. What about you?”
“Just one thing,” Butsko smirked. “You and me can make whatever deals we wanna make and plan whatever we wanna plan, but when we land on New Georgia, that artillery shell with our name on it might land on us in the first hour, so it all doesn’t make a shit anyway.”
“You’re right,” Lieutenant Breckenridge agreed, “but it might not land on us, and if it doesn’t, it’s good to know where everything stands.”
“Okay,” Butsko said. “That makes sense.”
“End of meeting,” Lieutenant Breckenridge said.
Both men stood. Butsko saluted Lieutenant Breckenridge, who returned the salute. Butsko turned around and walked away, and Lieutenant Breckenridge puffed his cigarette and watched him go, proud of the way he’d handled him, because Lieutenant Breckenridge was a little intimidated by Butsko, who was older than he was and had seen a lot more war. Butsko had even survived the Bataan Death March.
Well, he’s not completely crazy, Lieutenant Breckenridge thought. If that bomb doesn’t land on us on New Georgia, he and I will probably come out of this mess okay.
Butsko returned to the platoon area and saw the men gathered around, looking expectantly at him, because they thought a big blow-out had taken place between him and lieutenant Breckenridge.
“Hey, Sarge,” said Frankie La Barbara. “What happened?”
“Nothing happened,” Butsko said, heading back to his tent.
“Whataya mean, nothing happened? Something hadda happen.”
Butsko didn’
t reply; he just kept walking toward his tent. The entire platoon followed him like little children following the Pied Piper of Hamelin, but Butsko didn’t acknowledge their presence.
Frankie caught up with Butsko and turned to him. “Hey, Sarge, we’ve been talking and we figured out a way to fix that lieutenant’s wagon.”
Butsko stopped and looked at Frankie. “What are you talking about?”
The other men crowded around Butsko. Frankie grinned and held out his hands with the palms out. “We’ll just keep fucking up until this looie looks so bad they’ll have to transfer him out.”
An expression of disgust came over Butsko’s face. “So what good’ll that do, you dumb fuck? They’ll just send another officer over here. And besides, you’re not gonna push this guy around much. You push him and he’ll push back. He’s as tough as any man here, and tougher than most of you. Not only that, he’s the boss and you’re gonna do what he says.” Butsko pointed at Frankie. “Get it?”
“What for?”
“Because we’re soldiers and we’re gonna do what we’re told. Any man who doesn’t do his duty will have to answer to me. Got it?”
“What if he’s no good?” Bannon asked.
“If he’s no good, we’ll put a bullet in his head,” Butsko said matter-of-factly, “but I think he’ll be all right. He knows the score. He’s not out to break anybody’s balls. I’m the guy who likes to break balls, remember?”
They all nodded, because they remembered the things Butsko had done to them over the past several months.
“We’re gonna be the best soldiers we can be,” Butsko said. “That’s the only way we’ll get off Colonel Stockton’s shit list. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
The men nodded.
“Make sure you remember it,” Butsko said. “As you were!”
Butsko turned and walked away. The men looked at each other, shrugged, and dispersed into small groups, buzzing and whispering, speculating about their future, tossing off notions that soon would become rumors and then facts all of them would eventually believe.
