by John Hersey
Major Joppolo stood up and said: “Purvis, either you shut your big trap or I’ll throw you out of here.” Captain Purvis said: “Aw come on, Major, don’t be a spoil sport. You know you feel the same way, if you were just honest enough to say so. “
“Shut up, Purvisl” The Major’s eyes blazed. “That’s an order. Now you behave yourself.”
Captain Purvis stood up and saluted with a wavering dignity.
Tomasino came back with the wine, and Captain Purvis saluted the bottle, bending slightly at the waist and aiming the breakaway of the salute straight at the bottle.
Rosa, sensing that something was wrong, shouted desperately: “My Gud! My Gud!” But nobody laughed. Tina jumped up and said: “Let’s dance,” and she ran over to the radio and turned on Radio Moscow. “Moscow always has the best music,” she said.
Francesca, with Major Joppolo’s help, carried the table from the middle of the room to the end away from the radio. Captain Purvis rushed over to Rosa, held out his arms, and said: “Okay, fatso, let’s dance.”
Rosa understood from his gestures what he meant, and she stood up laughing. The tipsy Captain and his huge partner careened around the room. After a couple of turns Rosa collapsed into a chair, gasping and shouting her English vocabulary.
Then Captain Purvis danced with Francesca, and Major Joppolo with Tina. They stamped and laughed and talked above the music until Tomasino said glumly: “You are making too much noise. You will wake the girls.”
Tina ran over and toned the radio down a little. “The girls?” the Major said.
Tina blushed. She said: “My sister’s daughters.” “Francesca’s?”
“Oh, no, of my sister who is in Rome.”
Major Joppolo did not think to ask why the daughters were in Adano and the mother in Rome; or why Tina blushed; or why she did not seem very anxious to talk any more about the sleeping girls.
“Let’s dance some more,” she said.
So they danced until they were both sweating in the midsummer heat.
It was Tina who said: “Some fresh air, Mister Major?” He said: “That would be a good idea.”
Tina said: “We can go right out here.”
She slipped out through wooden shutter doors onto a narrow balcony over the dark street, and the Major followed her. Behind him he could hear Captain Purvis saying to Giuseppe: “There goes that bastard out to make some time with his wop talk. How the hell can I make love when I have to keep you hanging around, Giuseppe?”
Tina closed the shutter doors behind the Major.
The two stood against the cool iron of the balcony railing and looked up at the sharp stars. Tina said: “Do you like it here?”
Major Joppolo said: “I’ve never been so happy in my life.”
“That seems strange,” Tina said, “when you’re so far from home.”
“I’m not so far from home, in a way. Florence is almost a home to me. My father and mother were from a little town near Florence.”
“Where are you from, in America I mean?” “The Bronx, Tina.”
“Where is that, the Bronx?” “New York.”
“The Bronx is part of New York City?”
“Sometimes I think New York City is part of the Bronx.”
“Oh, I should love to go there. Is the Bronx beautiful? Is it beautiful for Florentines in the Bronx? How would it be for someone from Adano?”
“For my Florentine parents, I think it is beautiful, yes, it is beautiful. In Italy they were just poor peasants, and you know it is not very beautiful for most of the peasants here. There my father is a waiter. He has a very good job, in the University Club, it is a very nice atmosphere, all the chairs are leather like in the Palazzo and the walls are all panelled. My mother has a washing machine. Father has a car. It is very beautiful for them, I think. For me, it was not always so beautiful.”
“Why not, Mister Major?”
“Well, it’s hard to explain. You see, I grew up in America. I could see that the Bronx was not the most beautiful place in America. I always wanted a little more than we had. I don’t know, it’s hard to explain.”
“No,” said Tina, “you don’t have to explain. I know what it is to be restless. That’s why my hair is blonde, I guess.”
Major Joppolo had made up his mind that Tina’s hair was dyed. But he didn’t expect her to talk about it. Tina sensed his embarrassment. “Oh, my hair is not natural, Mister Major. I dyed it because I was not satisfied. My dark hair was my Bronx. Every one had dark hair. I wanted something different.”
“I thought at first perhaps you were from Northern Italy,” the Major said politely.
Tina laughed. “Tell me some more about yourself,” she said.
“There’s not much to tell,” he said.
“Did you go to one of those American colleges? I’ve seen them in the movies at Vicinamare.”
“No, not exactly. I went to school until I was sixteen. Then I lied about my age, I said I was eighteen so that I could get a driver’s license and take a job. I worked as a truck driver until I was twenty, then I had an accident, from lifting things which were too heavy.”
“What kind of an accident, Mister Major?”
“It was a rupture. After the accident I had no job for two months. It is not very exciting to be unemployed in the United States. Finally I got a job as a clerk in a grocery store at twelve dollars a week.”
“How much is that?”
“Twelve hundred lira.”
“Twelve hundred lira! You must have been rich.”
“No, Tina, twelve hundred lira is all right for Adano -”
“All rightl I should say it is all right. Six hundred is high pay. My father used to think six hundred was a very good week - and he hasn’t been out for a long time,” she added sadly.
“But that’s not so much in the States.” “You mean everyone is rich in the Bronx?”
“No, I wouldn’t say so, Tina. It’s just that our standard of living is higher than yours.”
“What does that mean?”
“Well, that’s hard to explain, too. It’s just that everyone has a little more than they have here. They mostly have automobiles, in peacetime, that is. The food is a little better, everyone gets orange juice and milk and things like that. They get paid a little more. They have to pay more for what they get, though.”
“In other words, it’s just what I said. Everyone is rich in the Bronx.”
“Well, have it your own way. Anyhow, I think fate has had a lot to do with my life, because one night a friend of mine told me that they were about to have examinations for jobs in the City Government.”
“The City of the Bronx?”
“No, Tina, New York City. He told me I ought to take them. I said I hadn’t had enough education, but he said I ought to go ahead and try. So I did and I came out number 177 out of 1,100. That made me feel pretty good, as if I knew something after all. They gave me a job as a clerk in the Department of Taxation and Finance
“Did this make you rich again?”
“No, being a tax collector did not make you rich in New York. I was earning twenty dollars a week. That’s two thousand lira.”
“Two thousand, richer than ever.”
“I did all right, too, only then they elected a man named LaGuardia, and since he was a different party from the previous man, a lot of people got thrown out, and I was one. I borrowed some money from my motherin-law -”
“Your mother-in-law? Were you married?”
‘Yes, Tina, I’ll tell you about that some time. I borrowed this money and bought a grocery store in the Bronx, and it was all mine. Only then about two years later things went badly, we had hard times, and I had to sell out before it was too late. I went back to the City to see if they’d have me back, because they had sent me a couple of notices while I had the grocery store, saying they wanted me. They said: ‘Why didn’t you answer the notices?’ I said: `I never got them, I must have been in Florida when you sent them to me.’“
“Where is Florida?”
“It’s in the south, I wasn’t there at all. That was the second time I lied to get a job. Since then I’ve tried never to lie, the truth is much better and much safer. So they gave me a job in the Sanitation Department. Later I took my examinations for advancement to Third Class Clerk, and afterwards I got to be a Second Class Clerk. I was earning forty-two dollars a week when I went into the Army.” Major Joppolo was getting a little boastful about his non-existent riches. “That was four thousand two hundred lira a week.”
Tina said: “The wife, is she pretty?”
Major Joppolo said: “Yes, she is very pretty, at least she seems so to me. I miss her very much. She has a mole on the left side of her chin, but otherwise she is very pretty. She is of Italian parentage, so she has dark skin like yours. In some ways you remind me of her.”
Tina had been looking up at the stars. But now she suddenly looked down into the dark valley of the street and said: “Let’s go in and dance.” And she opened up the shutter doors and went inside. Major Joppolo went in after her.
Captain Purvis had gone to work on Tomasino’s wine, and he was making a decided nuisance of himself, so Major Joppolo persuaded him to go home. He and Giuseppe led the Captain home.
When he got back to his own villa, and was undressed and in bed, Major Joppolo felt miserable. It wasn’t until nearly three o’clock that he realized why. Giuseppe was right. It made a man feel very unhappy to be as far from home as the Bronx, New York, is from Adano, Italy.
Chapter 12
THE NEXT morning Captain Purvis sat with his feet up on his desk. He was in a bad humor.
Sergeant Trapani was out of the office. The Captain spoke to Corporal Chuck Schultz, who was on guard. “That Major Joppolo,” he said. “I was beginning to like him, but he’s a wet blanket. God, I was just getting a wonderful buzz on last night, and he descended on me, sober as a whitefish, and he made me go home.”
Corporal Schultz said: “Was you getting buzzed on that Dago red?”
The Captain said: “Yeah, there’s an old fish-hound down here. Giuseppe took me to his house because, he’s got a couple of nice quail, he gave me some red stuff.”
The Corporal said: “That vino’s murder, Captain, it’ll give you the G.I. trots every time. “
Captain Purvis said: “Yeah, I got ‘em this morning. I feel terrible. But there’s no excuse for that Major doing me the way he did.”
Corporal Schultz said: “That vino’s bad stuff, sir, you don’t want to get mixed up with that vino no more ‘n you can help. Had some myself last night, and I been having to go every ten minutes this morning.”
Captain Purvis said: “Yeah, I’ve made about six trips myself. I’m still sore at that Major.”
Corporal Schultz was not a gold mine of conversation, and pretty soon the two fell silent. Captain Purvis yawned, stretched, stared out of the door into the bright street for a few minutes, yawned again, got up, walked around the room, sat down, yawned and said: “Christ, I’m bored. Wish I had something to do.”
He leaned back in his chair, and put his feet up on his desk again. As he did so, he knocked some papers on the floor.
“Oh, hell,” he said, “I suppose I might as well clean up my goddam desk. Got to do it sooner or later.”
He reached down on the floor and picked up the stray papers. He began to sort and arrange papers in piles, and he threw some away, and he got up and put some away in his files. He read some of them aloud to Corporal Schultz, who was not in the least interested.
In due course he picked up a purple slip, and he said: “Hell’s bells, what’s this?” And he read: “On July 19, orders were received from General Marvin, Forty-Ninth Division, to keep all mule carts out of the town of Adano. Guards were posted at bridge over Rosso River and at Cacopardo Sulphur Refinery. Order carried out. On July 20, guards were removed on order of Major Victor Joppolo...”
Captain Purvis banged the flat of a hand down on the table. “Goddamit!” he shouted.
“Hey, Schultz,” he said. “Where’s Trapani?”
“Said he was just stepping out for a couple of minutes, sir, said he’d be right back. Anything I can do, sir?” “No, goddamit. Wait till I get that Trapani “ Trapani came in in a few minutes.
“Hey, you, come over here,” Captain Purvis said as soon as he arrived.
“Yes, sir,” Trapani said.
“What’s this?” the Captain said, and he held out the purple slip.
Trapani took it and looked at it. “That’s the report on the mule cart situation, sir,” Trapani said coolly. “You told me to make out a report, remember?”
“You’re damn right I remember, and where did I tell you to send it?”
“It was to go to G-one of the Division, sir.”
“Well goddamit, why didn’t you send it?”
“I put it on your desk for approval, sir.”
Captain Purvis huffed and puffed. He knew very well he didn’t pay as much attention to his desk as he ought to. “Well, damn it to hell, let’s send it out of here. I want to personally see you put that thing in the pouch for Division.”
Sergeant Trapani sat right down and addressed an envelope, and put the slip in it, and put the envelope in the pouch which was to leave the next afternoon by courier for Division headquarters. He addressed the envelope to the wrong person at Division, but then, Captain Purvis didn’t notice that.
Chapter 13
A PERSPIRING courier brought a note to Major Joppolo’s office.
It said in English: “I got to seen you in the immediate.” And it was signed M. Cacopardo.
Not five minutes behind the courier, Cacopardo himself showed up, all dressed for traveling. He had leather gauntlets on, and goggles up on his forehead, and he carried a green parasol in his right hand.
The eighty-two-year-old man trotted the length of Major Joppolo’s office, leaned forward over his desk, looked over his shoulder at Giuseppe and Zito, then looked at the Major and said in a loud whisper: “I got to talk alone.”
Major Joppolo asked his interpreter and usher to step outside.
“I have received a secret messages from the Mafia,” the old man said, still whispering loudly. “I have the military secrets of where are the German troops. You must send your soldiers, Mister Major.”
Major Joppolo said: “I have no soldiers, I’m just the administrator of Adano.”
Cacopardo said: “I got to go to the General. I am ready. “
Major Joppolo said: “Just a minute, Mister Cacopardo, I can’t send every Tom, Dick and Harry to see General Marvin. You’ll have to give me some evidence that your information is good.”
Old Cacopardo reached into his jacket and pulled out a piece of tissue paper. He unfolded it on Major Joppolo’s desk. “See,” he said, “here is Pinnaro, here is the hills before Pinnaro, here is the Germans. Element here of Forty-Third Panzers, something here out of Hermann Goring. I have all the details.”
Major Jop olo decided at once that the chances of the old man’s information being right were good enough so that he ought to send him forward to the Division.
“I will send you to the General, Mister Cacopardo,” he said, “but I want to warn you. The General is a very impatient man. If your dope isn’t straight, he’ll be very angry. I don’t know what he’ll do to you, but it won’t be nice. Also, old man, I’ve got to ask you not to get me in trouble with him. I’m already in Dutch with General Marvin. Promise me that you will be careful, will you?”
“I will be careful,” Cacopardo said, “but the informations is important.”
Major Joppolo made out a pass for Cacopardo and sent for a jeep from the motor pool.
Cacopardo stepped back, and raised his hand in a Fascist salute. Then, as his aged memory functioned, the hand wavered over to his forehead, and the salute became military. And he said: “Cacopardo is sulphur and sulphur is Cacopardo.” He turned on his heel, as militarily as he could, and marched out.
The villa in which the Forty-Ninth Division was dug in for the time being had belonged to a friend of Cacopardo’s. Cacopardo and this friend had shared an interest in Italian furniture, and the old man knew the value of the things in this villa. The friend was dead now, but Cacopardo had a hard time remembering which of his friends had died and which were still living; he therefore thought of them all as living. It was easier that way.
Because he was entering the villa of his friend, whom he considered to be living, Cacopardo approached the gate in the spirit of a cordial visit, and he expected to be received cordially. He was in for a surprise.
Anyone who has never tried to see a general could not possibly know what Cacopardo’s reception was like. A sentry stopped him at the gate.
“Good morning,” said Cacopardo, as if addressing a butler at his friend’s door, “is my friend Salatiello here?” The sentry said: “Ain’t nobody here of that name as I know of. What is he, an M.P.?”
“What is these M.P.?” Cacopardo asked his jeep driver.
“Military Police,” the driver said.
“Military Police, indeed. He is prefect of Vicinamare and a collector of wooden curiosities. He is my friend. This is his house. Is he here?”
