Marshal to read. God only knew what the MPs had made out of the document.
'I believe,' the letter went on, 'that I must fight for my country. I did not think so when I left camp, but I realize now that I was wrong then, that I did not see the issues clearly because of my preoccupation with my own troubles and a sense of bitterness towards the men around me, a sense of bitterness which was suddenly made unbearably strong by something that happened on my last night in the camp. The hostility of the Company had crystallized into a series of fist-fights with me. I had been called upon to fight by ten of the largest men in the Company. I felt that I had to accept that challenge.
'I had gone through nine of the fights, however, fighting honourably, and asking for no quarter. In the last fight I managed to beat the man who was opposing me. He knocked me down several times, but in the end I knocked him out, as a culmination of many weeks of fighting. The Company, which had watched all the fights, had before this left me on the ground, full of congratulations for the winner. In this instance, when I faced them, looking, perhaps foolishly, for some spark of admiration or grudging respect for what I had done, they merely turned, as one man, and walked away. It seemed to me as I stood there that I could not bear the fact that all I had done, all I had gone through to gain a place in the Company, had been absolutely wasted.
'At that moment, looking at the backs of the men at whose side I was expected to fight and perhaps die, I decided to desert.
'I realize now that I was wrong. I realize now that I believe in this country and in this war, and an individual act like this is not possible. I must fight. But I think I have the right to ask for a transfer to another division, where I can be among men who are more anxious to kill the enemy than they are to kill me. Respectfully, NOAH ACKERMAN, Private, US Army.'
The ferry docked and Captain Lewis slowly rose to his feet. Thoughtfully he folded the letter and put it into his pocket, as he crossed the gangplank to the wharf. Poor boy, he thought, and he had an impulse to call off the lunch and go right back to the Island and seek Noah out. Ah, well, he thought, as long as I'm here now, I might as well have lunch and see him later. But I'll make it quick, he thought, and get back early.
But the girl he was lunching with had the afternoon off, and he had three cocktails while waiting for a table, and after that the girl wanted to go home with him. She had been a little cool to him the last three times he had been out with her and he felt he couldn't risk leaving her now. Besides, his head was a little fuzzy by now and he told himself he would have to be absolutely clear and sober when he went to see Noah; he owed it to the boy; it was the least he could do. So he went home with the girl and called his office and told Lieutenant Klauser to sign off for him after Retreat that afternoon.
He had a very good time with the girl and by five o'clock he decided that he had been foolish to think that she had grown cool towards him, very foolish indeed.
The visitor was very pretty, although a great deal of worry seemed to be under severe control in her steady dark eyes. Also, Lewis saw, she was pregnant. And from the look of her clothes, she was poor. Lewis sighed. This was going to be even worse than he expected.
'It was very good of you,' Hope said, 'to get in touch with me. They haven't let me see Noah all this time, and they don't let him write to me, and won't deliver my letters to him.' Her voice was cool and steady, and there was no tone of complaint in it.
'The Army,' Lewis said, feeling ashamed of all the men around him, all the uniforms, guns, buildings. 'It does things its own peculiar way, Mrs Ackerman. You understand.'
'I suppose so,' Hope said. 'Is Noah well?'
'Well enough,' Lewis said diplomatically.
'Are they going to let me see him?'
'I think so,' Lewis said. 'That's what I wanted to talk to you about.' He frowned at the WAC secretary, who was watching them from her desk with frank interest. 'If you please, Corporal,' Lewis said.
'Yes, Sir.' The WAC rose reluctantly and went slowly out of the room. She had fat legs and the seams of her stockings were crooked, as always. Why is it, Lewis thought automatically, why is it they are the ones who join up? Then he realized what he was thinking and frowned nervously, as though somehow the grave, steady-eyed girl seated erectly in the stiff chair by the side of his desk could somehow read his thoughts and, in the middle of her terrible dilemma, be shocked and disgusted by him.
'I suppose,' Lewis said, 'that you know something of what has gone on, even though you haven't seen or heard from your husband.'
'Yes,' said Hope. 'A friend of his, a Private Whitacre, who was down in Florida with him, passed through New York and he came to see me.'
'Unfortunate,' Lewis said. 'Most unfortunate.' Then he flushed, because the barest hint of an ironic smile played across the corners of the girl's mouth at his sympathy. 'Now,' he said briskly, 'this is the situation. Your husband has asked to be transferred to another unit… Technically, he can be tried by a court-martial on the charge of desertion.'
'But he didn't desert,' Hope said. 'He gave himself up.'
'Technically,' Lewis said, 'he deserted, because at the time he left his post, he did not intend to return.'
'Oh,' said Hope. 'There's a rule for everything, isn't there?'
'I'm afraid there is,' Lewis said uncomfortably. The girl made him uneasy sitting there, staring steadily at him. It would have been easier if she cried. 'However,' he went on stiffly, 'the Army realizes that there are extenuating circumstances…'
'Oh, God,' Hope said, laughing dryly. 'Extenuating circumstances.'
'… and in recognition of that,' Lewis insisted, 'the Army is willing not to press the court-martial and return your husband to duty.'
Hope smiled, a grave, warm smile. What a pretty girl, Lewis thought, much prettier than either of the two models…
'Well, then,' Hope said, 'there's no problem, is there? Noah wants to be returned to duty and the Army is willing…'
'It isn't as simple as that. The General in command of the base from which your husband deserted insists that he be returned to the Company in which he was serving, and the authorities here will not interfere.'
'Oh,' Hope said flatly.
'And your husband refuses to go back. He says he would stand trial before going back.'
'They'll kill him,' Hope said dully, 'if he goes back. Is that what they want?'
'Now, now,' Lewis said, feeling that since he was wearing the uniform and the two bright captain's bars, he had to defend the Army to a certain extent, anyway. 'It's not as bad as that.'
'No?' Hope asked bitterly. 'Just how bad would you say it was, Captain?'
'I'm sorry, Mrs Ackerman,' Lewis said humbly. 'I know how you feel. And remember, I'm trying to help…'
'Of course,' Hope said, touching his arm impulsively with her hand. 'Forgive me.'
'If he stands trial, he is quite certain to be sent to jail.' Lewis paused. 'For a long time. For a very long time.' He did not say that he had written a biting letter to the Inspector-General's office about this matter, and had put it in his desk to be reworded the next morning to get it perfect and that he had begun to think, as he had re-read the letter, that he was sticking his neck out awfully far, and that the Army had a quiet way of sending obstreperous officers, officers who found it necessary to make complaints about their superiors, to unpleasant places like Assam or Iceland or New Guinea. And he neglected to tell Hope that he had put the letter in his pocket and had re-read it four times during the day and then had torn it up at five o'clock in the afternoon and had gone out and got drunk that night.
'Twenty years, Mrs Ackerman,' he said as gently as possible, 'twenty-five years. Courts-martial have a tendency to harshness…'
'I know why you called me here,' Hope said in a dead voice.
'You want me to convince Noah to go back to his Company.' Lewis swallowed. 'That, more or less, is it, Mrs Ackerman.'
Hope stared out of the window. Three prisoners in blue fatigues were heaving garbage into a truck. Two guards stood behind them, with shotguns under their arms.
'Are you a psychiatrist in civilian life, too, Captain?' she asked suddenly.
