Williwaw

by Gore Vidal

  The Colonel and Barkison began to talk about various things and Hodges looked out the window.

  It was several miles to the Headquarters. It was several miles to everything around here.

  The countryside, if it could be called that, was bleak and brown. There was no vegetation, only the spongy turf. Low hills sloped down into the water and beyond them the white mountains disappeared into the clouds.

  Ravens and gulls were everywhere. Some of the younger officers had caught ravens, slit their tongues, and occasionally had taught them how to talk. Ravens made good pets.

  “I wonder how the Chaplain’s going to get back to Andrefski?” asked Hodges.

  “I haven’t any idea,” said Barkison. “He’ll probably fly. Are planes flying out of here now, Colonel?”

  “Certainly. They have all along. Well, except for a few days last week.”

  Barkison smiled tightly. “Just when we wanted one, they stopped flying.”

  “It must have been a great experience for you,” said the Colonel. “I’d give anything to have been in your shoes. That ship was really busted up.”

  “Yes, we took quite a knocking.” Barkison looked away dreamily as though he were reliving those daring hours when he had stood on the bridge shouting orders to the men. Hodges thought this was very funny.

  “I know the General thinks a lot of you for this. I heard him say so this morning at a staff meeting, which reminds me we’ve got a new Colonel in the Headquarters.”

  “Who is it?”

  “Jerry Clayton. He was at the Point before your time.”

  “The name’s familiar. What’s he going to do here?”

  “Well, this is just between us, Barkison, but I suspect....” The Colonel lowered his voice and Hodges looked out the window.

  The staff car drove up to a long building, rather complicated-looking because of its many wings. Hodges opened the door and they got out.

  “I’ll see you later, Hodges,” said Barkison. “I’ve got to go in and see the old man. You’ll be over at the club for supper, won’t you?”

  “Yes, sir. I’m going over there right now.”

  “I’ll see you then.” Barkison and the Colonel walked down a long dimly lit corridor to a door marked Commanding General.

  Hodges went to his own office. This was a large room which he shared with three clerks and two Lieutenants. Only one of the Lieutenants was in the room when Hodges entered.

  “Well, what do you know, here’s the boy again,” said the Lieutenant, grinning and shaking hands. “You don’t look so bad. A little pale, but nothing that a dose of raisin jack won’t cure.”

  “Well, you look plenty lazy.” They insulted each other good-naturedly for several minutes. The other Lieutenant was in his middle twenties and a close friend of Hodges. They had gone to Officers’ School together. The other Lieutenant was dark and handsome and constantly shocked at Hodges’ desire for a military career. A desire which he usually referred to as “crass” or “gross.”

  “How’s the office been?”

  “Just about the same. I think our friend the Chief of Staff is going to get moved out.”

  “How come?”

  “Well, they sent a new Colonel in and it looks like our politician friend is on his way out.”

  “I guess that’s why he was down to meet us.”

  “Sure, he’s winning friends all the time.”

  “Say, I’m hungry. Let’s go over to the club.”

  “O.K., wait till I take care of this.” The Lieutenant put some papers in his desk. “I wonder where that damn CQ is? Well, well go anyway.”

  They went outside and Hodges saw that his baggage was gone. The driver had probably taken it over to his quarters. He was glad that he wouldn’t have to carry it.

  They walked silently along the black roads. Jeeps and trucks clattered by them. Men on their way to the theaters or cafeterias or recreation halls walked along the road. The twilight was almost as dark as the night.

  The club was another long low complicated building. Inside, it was warm and comfortable. There was a large living room with a fireplace and comfortable chairs. In here it was almost possible to forget that one was in the Aleutians.

  Next to the living room was a bar and beyond that a dining room. Hodges and the Lieutenant went to the bar. “Beer.”

  “Beer.”

  They got beer.

  “Those little ships are pretty light, aren’t they? I mean even in good weather they jump all over the place.” Hodges took a swallow of the bitter liquid. “I wouldn’t know,” he said at last. “I’ve never been in a boat like that in good weather.”

  “I guess that’s right. Say, did you stop off at the Big Harbor?”

  “We were there for a night.”

  “How was it? I never been there but I’ve heard a lot about the girls there. Got a lot of Canadians there.”

  “Well, they’re all over fifty.”

  “That’s not what I heard.”

  “That’s what I saw anyway.”

  They drank their beer. “Come on,” said Hodges when they had finished, ‘let’s go in the dining room. I’m starved.” “Didn’t they have food on that boat?”

  “They had it but it was pretty hard to get down when you were jumping about like we were.”

  The dining room smelt of steak. They took a table in a corner, and a man took their order.

  Barkison, wearing his new silver leaves, entered the dining room with the Colonel. They nodded to the Lieutenants who nodded back.

  “Is that what you want to be? A guy like Barkison: more brass than brains?”

  “Oh, he’s not so bad. You just have to get to know him. He’s done pretty well. He might even be a General before this is over.”

  “No war could last that long.”

  The waiter brought them their dinner. Hodges ate hungrily.

  “By the way,” said the Lieutenant, “I heard that a guy got killed on your boat. Mast hit him or something?”

  “That’s not quite right. He fell overboard.”

  “How did that happen?”

  “I don’t know. Nobody knows. He went out on deck to fix something and he never came back.”

  “You think he got the old push, maybe?”

  “No, I don’t,” said Hodges and he spoke more sharply than was necessary.

  “Well, don’t get so excited. It wouldn’t have been the first time. Was he a popular guy?”

  “No, I don’t suppose he was.”

  “That sounds mighty familiar to me.”

  “I think it was an accident, though,” said Hodges and he said the words lightly, not making the mistake of sounding too interested as he had before.

  “This is the toughest steak I ever ate,” complained the dark Lieutenant.

  “That’s one of the horrors of war.”

  “It sure is.” They finished their dinner.

  Hodges thought of the night that the Chief had disappeared. He could remember himself building a house of cards. He could hear the Chief and Bervick arguing. Then they went out together and he had stayed inside building his house of cards. He had gone out on deck once. Duval had been sitting on the railing and Bervick was fixing the ventilator. Then he had gone back inside.

  “Want some water?” asked the waiter, filling his glass and Hodges thought of the splashing sound and of Bervick coming back into the salon alone.

  “What’s the matter with you?” asked the dark Lieutenant.

  “Nothing’s the matter with me. What’s on at the show tonight?”

  iii

  Bervick came into Evans’ cabin. It was seven o’clock and Evans was still asleep.

  “Hey,” said Bervick, and he shook him.

  “What’s the matter?” Evans sat up in bed.

  “Nothing’s the matter. Just thought I’d see if you were up.”

  “Well, I’m not up.” Evans stretched out again in his bunk. For a moment he lay there quietly, his eyes half shut. He enjoyed the ge
ntle rocking of the ship.

  “Get me a cigarette,” he said finally. Bervick felt in his pocket and brought out a crumpled pack. He took out a cigarette, lit it, and handed it to Evans.

  “Thanks,” grunted Evans. He inhaled the smoke comfortably. Then he began to think. When he awakened in the morning he always knew if something pleasant or unpleasant was supposed to happen to him. Today he felt would be a pleasant day.

  “What you got on your mind?” Evans asked.

  “Nothing, nothing at all.”

  “That’s what I thought. What’re you doing up so early?”

  “Just messing around, that’s all. I couldn’t sleep.”

  “You never do sleep in the morning. You’ve probably got a guilty conscience.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well,” Evans looked at him a little surprised, “well, I don’t know what I mean, do you?”

  “How should I?”

  “This isn’t making much sense.”

  Bervick agreed. Evans looked at him thoughtfully. He had been acting strangely lately, ever since the Chief had disappeared. Evans wondered absently if Bervick might not have had something to do with Duval’s death. He examined the idea with interest. Bervick might have hit him on the head with a hammer and then he might have dropped him overboard. That was not at all unlikely. Evans smiled.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “Nothing, nothing at all. I was just thinking.”

  “What about?”

  “I was thinking what a funny thing it would be if you’d knocked the Chief on the head and tossed him overboard.”

  “Well, I didn’t,” said Bervick. His voice was even. “Don’t know that I wouldn’t have liked to.”

  “It doesn’t make much difference one way or the other,” said Evans, quite sure now that Bervick had killed Duval. “It doesn’t make no difference at all. He was better off out of the way. Guys’ve been knocked off before. Nicer people than the Chief have been knocked off.”

  “I thought about doing it a lot, but I didn’t do anything to him. He just lost his balance.”

  “You saw it then?”

  Bervick nodded slowly. “Yeah, I saw him fall off.”

  “Well, don’t tell me any more about it. I don’t want to know.”

  “What’re you going to tell the investigating people?”

  “That I don’t know nothing about what happened, and that’s what you’re going to tell them, too.”

  “You think I should?”

  “I sure do.” Evans made smoke-rings. He was surprised at how easily he was able to take all this. He felt certain that Bervick had been responsible for the Chiefs death. He should report what he knew but he would not. He would rather protect Bervick. Duval was dead now and he saw no reason why anyone else should be hurt.

  “You know I didn’t push him,” said Bervick. He looked strained, Evans thought.

  “O.K., then you didn’t. I don’t care.”

  “I just want you to get that clear. I didn’t push him or do anything else. He just lost his balance.”

  “I believe you,” said Evans, and he almost did.

  “I don’t want to talk about this any more. Is that all right with you?”

  “Sure it is. You know what my report’s going to be. Let’s forget about it.”

  “Fine.” Bervick looked better already, and Evans wondered if perhaps Bervick was telling the truth. Evans puffed on his cigarette. He was not curious to know what had happened and he would probably never know. It was Bervick’s business, not his.

  “Going to see the Major this morning?”

  Evans groaned. “I suppose I have to.” He got out of bed and shivered in the cold room. He always slept naked, even in winter. Quickly he dressed himself. Then he looked at himself in the mirror. He looked scrofulous. Evans was not sure what the word meant, but it had been going through his mind for several days and the sound of it was most descriptive. From time to time he would mutter the word to himself. Evans combed his hair and reminded himself again that he would have to get a haircut soon.

  “Are you ready?” asked Bervick, who had been watching him impatiently.

  “All ready.” Evans put on his cap and they left the cabin and the wheelhouse.

  One of the deckhands was out on deck trying to tack another piece of canvas over the hole where one of the forward ventilators had been. As Evans and Bervick went by him, he asked, “Say, Skipper, do you know what happened to the hammer? The one we keep in the lazaret.”

  “No, I don’t. It was in there last I heard. You know anything about it, Bervick?”

  “I used a hammer to fix the ventilator the other night. I stuck it back in the lazaret.”

  “Well, it ain’t there now.”

  “You better look again,” said Evans.

  “It ain’t there.” The man turned back to his work and Evans and Bervick climbed up on the dock.

  Evans chuckled and Bervick said nothing.

  They walked past the warehouses and the docks. Bervick was very quiet and Evans did not bother him.

  He looked at the sky and saw that the gray clouds were beginning to thin. Perhaps they would have a good day, one of those days when the sky was blue and the sun shone clearly. He watched the sea gulls dart and glide in the windless air.

  Evans wondered what the Major would have to say about the investigation. He hoped there would not be too many questions. He was afraid Bervick would say the wrong thing.

  A truck stopped for them and they got into the back.

  “I don’t think Barkison’s going to be too much bother,” said Evans. “I think he’ll help us out.”

  “I hope so. Not that we’ve got anything to hide from him, much.”

  “Sure, that’s right. We haven’t got anything to hide.”

  The truck stopped at the Headquarters and they jumped out.

  They entered a large well-lighted room, full of clerks and typewriters and file cases and all the necessary impedimenta of waging war.

  Evans asked an effeminate-looking Corporal where he might find the Adjutant’s office.

  “Right down the hall, sir. First door on the left, sir.” The man emphasized the “sir” in an irritating manner.

  Evans and Bervick walked down the corridor. The anteroom to the Adjutant’s office was smaller than the room they had just left. Several clerks and several Lieutenants had desks here. On the walls were charts of as many things as it was possible to chart or graph.

  Evans noticed that one of the empty desks had the sign “Lt Hodges” on it.

  “Can I help you, sir?” asked a clerk.

  “Yes, I’d like to see Major Barkison.”

  “You mean Colonel Barkison.”

  “When was he promoted?”

  “Well, he got it yesterday. You’re the Master of the boat he was on, aren’t you?”

  “That’s right.”

  “I think he’s expecting you. Wait here please.” The man went into the adjoining office and came out a moment later. “Colonel Barkison is busy right now. He’ll see you in a few minutes. Why don’t you sit down?”

  “O.K.” Evans sat in Hodges’ chair and Bervick sat on the desk.

  “Quite an office Barkison’s got here,” commented Bervick.

  “Yeah, I’d go crazy in a job like this, though. He sits on his butt all day long.”

  “I’d sure like to make the money he makes.”

  “You could make more fishing.”

  “Could be.” They waited for fifteen minutes. Then Lt. Hodges came out of Barkison’s office.

  “How are you?” he greeted them. “You can go in now.”

  “Thanks.”

  Lt Colonel Barkison was sitting behind his desk, his mouth firm and his jaw set as he shuffled some papers. He looked up as they came in. Evans and Bervick did not salute and Evans was not quite sure whether Barkison was disappointed or not.

  “Good morning, Evans, Bervick. How’s your boat today?”

  “Ju
st fine, Colonel.”

  “Good.” Barkison did not invite them to sit down and that irritated Evans.

  “About this investigation....” Barkison began. He paused and seemed to be thinking. Then he said, “I’ve been appointed Investigating Officer.”

  “Is that right, sir? I thought they would hold the investigation at Andrefski.”

  “Normally they would, but you’re not going back there.

  We just got word from Andrefski that you’re to proceed straight to Seward for repairs.” Barkison smiled. “Maybe you’ll even get to Seattle.”

  “That’s the best news I’ve heard,” said Evans, delighted. Bervick agreed with him.

  “So,” Barkison frowned, “I’ve been made Investigating Officer.” He paused again, then he confided, “I’ll tell you what I’m going to do. I’ll take statements from you two and some others who might have seen Duval. We’ll do all that tomorrow. From what I’ve already gathered I feel that nothing new will turn up. So I can tell you now that I’m going to report plain accident in line of duty.”

  “I’m glad it’ll be as simple as that,” said Evans, not knowing what else to say.

  “I feel you’ve had enough trouble without an unpleasant investigation,” said Barkison and Evans noticed that he was careful not to look at Bervick.

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “Don’t mention it. I’m quite appreciative of what you, ah, did. I’m not quite sure in my mind, however, that it was a wise thing to do, to take a ship out in such bad weather.”

  Evans was surprised and a little angry. “What do you mean, Major, I mean Colonel?”

  “Nothing at all, except that some might say, now mind you I don’t, but some might say you showed bad judgment.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, sir. You insisted on the trip. I said that we were taking a chance, that was all.” Evans tried to keep the anger out of his voice.

  “I quite understand, Mr. Evans,” said Barkison coldly, beginning to shuffle his papers again. “I shall see you tomorrow.”

  “Yes, sir.” Bervick saluted and Evans did not as they left Barkison’s office.

  “Well,” said Bervick when they were outside the Adjutant’s office, “there goes that medal of yours.”

  “I’d like to knock that little bastard’s head in,” said Evans with feeling. “Did you hear him say I showed bad judgment?”