Thursday, December 26, 2013
the necessary routine and to my surprise the bastards hired me. I was
sworn in by the local police Chief, given a badge, a club, and now I was
a special policeman. I wondered what Neal and Allen and Burroughs would
say about this. I had to have navy blue trousers to go with my black
jacket and cop cap; for the first two weeks I had to wear Henri’s
trousers; since he was so tall, and had a potbelly from eating voracious
meals out of boredom, I went flapping around like Charley Chaplin to my
first night of work. Henri gave me a flashlight and his .32 automatic.
“Where’d you get this gun?” “On my way to the Coast last summer I jumped
off the train at North Platte, Nebraska, to stretch my legs and what did I
see in the window but this wonderful little gun which I promptly bought
and barely made the train.” And I tried to tell him that North Platte,
Nebraska, meant to me---buying the whiskey with the boys---and he slapped
me on the back and said I was the funniest man in the world. With the
flashlight to illuminate my way I climbed the steep walls of the south
canyon, got up on a highway streaming with cars in the night
Frisco-bound, scrambled down the other side almost falling, and came to
the bottom of a ravine where a little farmhouse stood near a creek and
where every blessed night the same dog barked at me for nights. Then it
was a fast walk along a silvery dusty road beneath inky trees of
California---a road like in the Mark of Zorro and a road like all the
roads you see in the Western B movies---I used to take out my gun and
play cowboys in the dark. Then I climbed another hill and there were the
barracks. These barracks were for the temporary quartering of overseas
construction workers. Then men who came through stayed there waiting for
their ship. Most of them were bound for Okinawa. Most of them were
running away from something---usually the law. There were tough groups
of brothers from Alabama, shifty men from New York, all kinds from all
over. And knowing full well how horrible it would be to work a full year
in Okinawa they drank. The job of the special guards was to see that
they didn’t tear the barracks down. We had our headquarters in the main
building, just a wooden contraption with panel-walled offices. Here at a
rolltop desk we sat around shift-
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment