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About Oregon daily emerald. (Eugene, Or.) 1920-2012 | View Entire Issue (Jan. 19, 1943)
iiiiiii.iimniuiiiiiiiiuiiiiii'iiiiiiiiuiiii ——— Half Hour Leave By RALPH KRAMER Ke banged into a civilian or two as he double-quicked up the asphalt ramp between a couple of smoke-dusted trains. He didn’t stop to excuse himself because he was in a hurry, and he never did things like excusin' anyway. The rest of the boys were walk ing behind slowly, laughing amo lg themselves. They were travel-dulled and had a half hour to kill, so they just laughed and walked easily, watching him. He had. a good idea of the kind of cracks they were making, too. As the crowd densened he crooked his arm to warn oncom ing shoulders of his speed. He was excited. Tins was home. Home for the first time in about a year, and the shavetail said they’d only be here a half-hour. A stinkin’ half hour What could a guy do in that length of time. His face was red and his stom ach tickled. Ever since he had found out his outfit was coming through home he’d felt nervous and sweaty. He had waited a long time for this moment, when he would get to come back to see his life again, the good old times, just once more before lie was gone for good. He hurried through the sooty gates into a marbled waiting room and headed for a phone booth. Jest his luck if the old lady wasn't home. If he could only see his house, or the neighborhood. After ten months in camp he’d almost forgfotten these things. But when, the shavetail said they were stoppin here at home he was rememberin’ plenty quick. H. wiggled shut the door of the phone booth, and ran his fin ger around the dial. A drop of perspiration tickled his armpit. At last the dull buzzing in the earphone stopped. ‘ Can I speak with Mrs. Glas gow, please?" He eased the lump out of his throat by whistling a fe wbars of "Take Me" back at the faint noises in the earphone. “JLo, Ma, this is Benny—Yeah, Ma How are ya’?—I’m OK, sure — sure — Yeah, Ma—Down at the depot, yeah, the train de pot,—I didn't know myself, Ma —Yeah, bripg- Bella if you can. but hurry up. I only got a half hour.' -See ya’, Ma." He clocked back the receiver and fingered the coin slot. Hi:j old ticker was poundin'— pretty excited all right. He pulled out a worn pack of cigarettes, tried a match on the polka-bumped tin wall of the booth, and stepped out, heading toward the boys. Funny, him being so steamed up now, when a little while ago he was gettin’ on so famous at camp that he was forgettin’ to write to the whole bunch, even to Bella. To be real honest, he had almost forgotten them, that is until he found he was heading through home. Now he was get tin’ the shakes and evei-ything. Most of the guys were hangia’ around the candy stand that was shingled with magazines show ing pretty girls with torn dresses and French garters on the covers. “Want’a buy one, soldier?" But the guys kept looking at the magazines and grinning. Ben bought a coke and saun tered toward the main part of the lobby. He was cooling off a little, but that was him all over . . . one minute hepped up as hell, and the next, cool as a cucum ber. That was the way with ev erything; never could keep in terested in one lousy thing. And with Ma and them it had been the same way—He was always hot and cold around home, fight in’ with them, Bella too—that was his girl. Half the time they would make him sick to his stom ach yellin’ at him, eatin' at him. Funny, how a guy doesn’t know what he really wants. Now he was goin’ to get to see them again. Only a half-hour, but anyway it was something. Not time enough for them'to be gin pickin’ on him so everything ought to be hunky-dcry.—Damn, how feelin’s always tear at a guy’s guts. He wondered if Ma was changed much. Ten months was a long time. Back before he got drafted, and after he was canned at Dickinson’s, Ma had let him live the life of Reilly. Those sure were the days, just loafin’ an’ playin’ around. But then, he got out there in camp and in a couple of months, he wasn’t ever writ in’ home. Even to Bella, his best girl. Three of his buddies came out into the lobby. "Some station, eh, Ben?” "Yeah," said Ben. He started to tell them about what a big station it was, the biggest in the —but he caught himself and they just stood there looking around. An old guy and a kid were eyeing them from the . waiting bench. Whenever Ben would look back at them, the kid would still be staring at him, and the kid had a stare like Svengali. The murals, the ceiling, the bronze clock—the people, that P^eiud& ta Biudde Black ebony passion swirling in ail aesthetic Nocturne of remembered love—• Simpering swiftness of burning kisses indelibly Printed on the hem of her soul—• Tomorrow's yesterdays blenched with the ropy Spermatic laughter of the city streets— Will blend my dawn born nocturne into a symphony Of harbor lights and tears .... You are tinder my skin, I feel you in my breast With your resonant laughter taunting— I see city lights winking like a painted prostitute With her cheap love for sale— (Here high on the bridge the beauty is gone— T care not for dreams that torture The endless quest!) The time has conic to welcome the new cool black void That f ugets you as my warm blood cools .... One step and I'll be rid of you, or will a blue Eternity of you come bubbling up with me From the muddy Fast river on the grappling hooks Of a scarlet destiny that breathes forever .... - By Ray Dickson. loll in the swell fur, and the smooth pins—and then the kid with eyes. He thought of thumb ing the punk in his glims; to take the dead fish stare out of them. After about half a cigarette one of the guys began talking. “You sure we’re goin’ to Alas ka?” “I’m not the C.O., but I’d lay any dough we are.” And they lost themselves in army talk. As they talked, Ben’s stomach loosened up a little. It was a swell feeling to be a part of something great, and to be able to shoot the bull about it. Once you got goin’ with this army stuff it was really OK. (: tt t-. BEN looked up at the big clock. The bronze minute hand was at a quarter after— quarter after! Where in the devil were they?—His stomach again. He fished for another cigarette. Now that the time was almost up he began to wonder if he would get to see them. Maybe fate or something had it figured that he wasn't going to, things happen that way a lot. Good old Ma.—He had an easy life; those were the good old times—and Bella, she was a good kid, too. Why did life have to leave things behind like this? As he talked to himself his feelings welled. He began to curse to himself—this waitin’ is the nuts. “Say, what's eatin’ you, Ben?” But he didn’t have time to an swer, as a hysterical “Benny!” shilled across the acoustical lob by. “Benny!” It was Ma screaming as she charged across the shiny floor, running from the knees down, Ben had time to brace himself as her outstreehed arms caught him around the neck. Her rough face came next to his— people were looking at them. He wasn’t to say “take it easy, Ma,” but he didn't. Ma was sobbing but her face was dry. “Benny—Benny.” Somebody was punching his libs, shaking him. He looked up from Ma's faded hair, it was his sister, Jo. She was big, hoarse, a slacks wearer. Her eyes were red and rainy; he never thought she gave a hoot about him before, she was always naggin’ him. ‘ ‘Benny—Benny. ’ ’ He let go of Ma. Jo slammed against him, her mannish mouth curling, “Gimme a kiss, Benny!” •—Her lips banged against his. He could feel her big front teeth. She squeezed him so hard he tried to pull away—this was a pain in the neck. Where was Bel la?—It was Bella he wanted to see. “Benny—Benny!” He broke Jo's hold and looked for Bella. There she was, small, her lips quivering, expectant. He looked hard at her—God, she's plain — Not like those girls around Riverside—Her eyes— Her eyes bit into him. Even af ter all those months at camp she was still nuts about him. The boys had said whenever you got a gal the way he did, she'd be nuts about you for keeps. Bella stood there for a mo ment, a loose skirt; legs, white and kind of veiny, and them sim ple-lookin’ bobby socks. She had always looked better to him be fore—After the way he'd been shoot in’ off to the boys about his gal back home. They were all looking at him now. but he pulled her close. Even half closed, her To dream with; And bring me wild dove cries, To sing with. Bring me thin wings of one swallow, Strong as steel; And bring the metal-sharp glow Of a star. And when your weary hand Is full, Bring me the heart of a man To love. —By Peggy Overland. eyes were givin’ him the busi ness. Her lips were soft and for a moment he wasn’t thinking—She hung on—Jeeze, she was nuts about him. He didn’t want it this way now. He opened his eyes; she was a white blure against him. He drew away. She was breathin’ hard, even here in the station. “Oh Benny, Benny.” He always like his gals with them eyebrows that were painted on. Bella was kind of backward about things like that.—Ma had called her “wholesome,” that was it, “wholesome”—If she wouldn't keep lookin’ at him like that, he wouldn’t feel so bad about things. She should be galavintin’ around, instead of moonin’ about him, be lievin’ him.—Guys always say things to gals, and the only ones that don’t believe them are two bitters. It’s a shame—and Bella wasn't no two-bitter. “You still love me, Benny?” “Yeah, yeah, sure.” He felt like he’d murdered somebody. This whole thing was turning out wrong—he was feel ing sick for sure now; he wanted to run back to the guys—get back in line. The big bronze minute hand was almost around to the six. “Are they treatin’ you all right, Sonny?” “Yeah, Ma, fine—” “An’ to think my own broth er’d be shootin’ an “antee” air craft gun—If Pa were only alive.”— “Do you get good food, Son ny?” “Sure, Ma, it’s swell. Ain’t as good as yours, but it’s swell.” He felt small and ugly, like he would amongst a bunch of Hollywood movie stars. Bella’s eyes went half closed again, she hung onto his sleeve. “When do you need to go, Benny?” He looked at the clock. “Any minute now, and I’m off.” Her voice broke; she buried her head into his shoulder. Her arms were around him. “Honest to God—I don’t want you to leave, Benny—I can’t stand it!” That touched him off, now he hoped he’d get killed. Why did he ever phone them? He felt so lousy—a heel. The guys were lookin’ at this too. Why didn’t that Jap drop him right here. His Ma lay against the other Literary Page Staff: Editor: Carol Greening Contributors: ' > Ralph Kramer Ray Dickson Peggy Overland shoulder, and Jo’s face was red and wet. Other times, people crying over him would have made him feel like a big shot. Now he was waiting for the shavetail to start in yellin.’ The three women clung to him. Between sobs they were talking, he was so bleary he felt half drunk. “Yeah — I’ll write — Yeah — I love you — I’ll write — I’ll write —I’ll take care of myself—I’ll be sure an1 write”— The bronze minute hand was at six at last. He noticed some of the boys standing around as he looked at the clock. “Hey, Glasgow, come on.” ^ - Ma grabbed his head and kissed him hard. He managed to make Jo’s land on his cheek. Then Bella tried to floor him, but her tears took all of the burn from her lips. She held herself up near his ear. “I love you and I’ll wait.” She kissed his neck as he pulled up. He stood back and they looked at him. He knew he hadn’t given them enough. He really wanted to be good to them.—If he only could at least act better -—If they were only alone. They stood there and it wrenched his insides—He wished he were a million miles away. A red cap touched him. “Better hurry, suh,”—- < A conductor was yowling, and1(>, the agate-eyed kid was still stai%./ ing at him like a thing in a had dream. He turned and waved. Jo waved hack. Bella was crying against Ma—How much did Ma know ? He trotted down the ramp—■ away. It was like a dose of scar let fever, hot and dizzy. As he rubbed his burning eyes he thought of what the major back at camp had said about the im portance of mentally preparing men for battle—“Have ’em ready to die and not give a damn about it”— Old Benny Glasgow was ready —and he didn’t care— Labor to keep alive in your breast that little spark of celes tial fire, called conscience. —George Washingtoi^j^1 UNIVERSITY Fruits and Produce We Specialize in Fraternity and Sorority Business 1219 Alder Phone 2910
