Chapter 18 Seventeen Gilbert

Clark.How could Gable drive women so crazy? "With the wind".Queenie was so excited, she jumped up for joy: ah, there is Clark.Gable!She lost herself, screaming nonsense, imagining herself spending time in the dark with the popular American star.Stupid young English girls see movie stars in every GI with the same American singing voice.The look of an American soldier (named Jed, Buck, or Chip) with easy-to-reach gifts and sweet words from Uncle Sam.Find dream lovers on Delaware or Arizona punks.Those little bastards still have the soil of their hometown in their nails, and they can't read a few big characters; they only date close relatives, and they know that their intelligence is only comparable to that of cattle.The lover in the teahouse actually wanted to find them from those people.Thanks to Mr. Gable's fluent eloquence, these villains are mistaken for the objects of English women's dreams.The movie has already started, we didn't see the music and the trailer.And the Gable star, with his six-foot-tall face and glowing complexion, couldn't light up the movie theater and show us the way.

Do you have a ticket?asked the hostess in uniform.follow me.Even in the dark, her filthy busty modded for plus-size clothing.The beam of her flashlight seemed to avoid her, writhing wildly on the floor before stopping in a few empty spaces.Queenie patiently elbowed Arthur and approached the row.He was as sleepy as a baby, and was about to sit down before he even got to his seat.Queenie gave him a slight nudge and asked him to sit two seats forward.I followed them, and the leading lady grabbed my sleeve.I turned to her, and she shone a flashlight on my face, blinding me for an instant. You have to go up to the back.Light up the floor and show me which way to go, said the woman.I misunderstood for a moment, patted Queenie and said softly: The lady who took the lead said we were going to the back.

Queenie came back from the row, and the lady shook her head.not her.It's you.You have to go up to the back. But we are in this together.I said, motioning for Queenie to sit back in her seat.I followed, and the hostess took my arm again, and said clearly and clearly like speaking to an idiot: No.you.You have to go up to the back.She and he can stay. But there are still plenty of seats for me to sit on.I said it softly so as not to disturb other people's enjoyment of watching the movie. This is the rule. Regulation?What regulations?She confuses me.The movie orchestra wailed, sweeping the aisle like wind.Queenie looked at me, half up in her seat.The woman behind her told her to sit down.A voice from somewhere tells me to be quiet.I apologize.Instead of sitting down, Queenie walked back down the row to where I was standing with the hostess.

Any questions, Gilbert?she asked.The music was very loud, and she looked at Arthur for fear that he would fall from his seat. He's going up to the back.Said the hostess. But here are the seats.Queenie replied. I told her just now and she said it was a rule. Regulation?What regulations?Queenie asked. I put my hand lightly on her arm to calm her down.I can figure this out on my own.Sit down, Queenie, I'll be right over.Then I turned to the hostess and asked the same question.What regulations? Only then did she raise the flashlight and scan the rear rows of the cinema with the searchlight.In a very short time, she hit the faces of the audience in the back row with lights.Queenie won't see, and won't ask: What?What are you going to show me?But I see it.That light was as amazing as revealing a group of tumbling cockroaches. Although it only took a second to search, it left an indelible impression on my heart.The lights flashed across rows of black faces, illuminating the deadpan, undefended look of a large group of African-American soldiers watching the film.

You are to sit with them. Miss, I told her that I am not American.I came with the RAF. You are a person of color. Queenie is back.what are you talking about people of color.He is a person of color.Again she shone the light a few rows back, and this time she held the light so that the bewildered Queenie could also understand.Some people were hit by the beam and seemed to wake up with the light. This is England.I said, this is not America.We don't do that in the UK.I sit wherever I like. Well, that's what we do here.This is the rule.All the niggers she stopped and started again: all the colored people got to sit in the back row.

Why?Queenie asked. Because that's where they are. certainly not!Why do people of color sit where you sit? Our other guests didn't like to sit next to people of color. Who are these other guests?American?I asked. They don't want to sit next to you. What other guests?who?I yelled. They don't like it all mixed up. American? Not just Americans.No one likes it. We sat next to him and he could sit between us.Queenie suggested.I just hope so, I just hope this sweet British woman can speak for me and make me happy.But, never mind, Queenie's kindness completely misses the point.

In this country, I sit where I like. Then you have to leave.Only the top and back rows, nothing else. Miss, there is no Jim in this country.Crow law. What? Jim.Crow law. Uh, if he's a person of color, he's going to sit in the back. apartheid.Miss, there is no racial segregation in this country.In this cinema, I can sit wherever I like.People of color in the back should also have the right to sit where they like.This is England.Not the US state of Alabama. Boos, like air fleeing from an overheated machine, came towards us from all directions, mixed with impatient silence, we still had to watch a movie.

You do my job.It's not my rule.No other people of color make such a fuss.Either go up to the back or you don't have to look. I told her: Miss, I will neither go to the back nor leave.My friend and I plan to watch movies from this location.My heart was beating so hard that the thumping would be stopped by a quiet hiss.Tsk, alas, good boy, dare to show your face boldly.We fought for the life and death of the Jewish people, yet even in the blue uniform of the RAF, my colored skin could make anyone bully me.I turned my back on the hostess, motioned for Queenie to sit down, and walked over to sit next to her.

An American's voice was as solid as thunder, calling to me from the front rows: Boy, sit where I tell you to sit.I ignore it. Hey nigga, I say sit where the lady tells you to sit. I took a seat next to Queenie.The GI stands up, and his figure rises from the screen like a deadly storm. Listen to me, we don't want to get in trouble.The tearful hostess begged. Nigga, do what I tell you to do.The GI shouted. Then you can keep your voice down.Queenie replied, standing up too, her fingers trembling wildly. nigga, move. Then you can shut up and don't call a nigger.Queenie said, I like them better than you anytime.

A woman's voice yelled: "Darling, tell 'em, nasty big-mouthed Americans."I can feel the restlessness in the back of the theater even without watching it.Someone yelled: Bai Niu, shut up.We don't eat this set. Grunts trembled in the air, and a white GI yelled, "Nigger, stand up!"A unanimous voice yells from behind: Who are you calling a nigger?Who do you call a nigger? Is black face better for you?Another shouting sound came from the front. It is not suitable.A series of answers came out. The leading lady ran away, yelling: I want to call the manager, we don't want to cause trouble.And Queenie, who was still yelling at the white people, said: You can sit down now, what does this have to do with you?

Nigger mistress shut up. Queenie, please sit down.I tried my best to persuade her, but she had already stopped listening to me. You can come here anytime. Another female voice said: Honey, tell them. The two GIs in the front row started moving along the seats, forcing the others to stand up and let them out.I am ready to face them. A woman said to the GIs: Hey, don't mess with them.You bullies. A giggle came from behind: boy, this woman is going to attack you hard. Another white GI stood up and told me, Boy, just go over there so we can all keep watching movies. Stay, boy, stay.There was a repeated chant from behind. Where is that lousy manager?I paid to see the play.Many stood up and I will never see the screen again.Finally, without warning, the movie stopped and the lights came on. As if under the pen of a master, the brightly colored movie theater picture is still.Why?Because everyone has seen it.Lines of black GIs were behind.Lines of white GIs were in front.A group of ordinary people were left, wearing sloppy clothes, sitting in the middle obediently.A few women sat with the GIs, some soldiers sat with the civilians, but like Napoleon and Wellington before Waterloo, the lady in charge had started a war.Now the American soldiers are all on their feet. black person yelling: Who are you calling a nigga?We don't follow your set. The white man yells: Fuck you niggers.Keep your mouth shut. We're going to fuck you up. The locals looked first one way, then the other, with the panic of picnickers before a swarm of burly men.The manager waved his hands high and ran to the stage like drowning.Trying to drown out the noise, he shouted: Everyone leave the theater.Please leave the theater in order.Added when no one seemed to hear: We don't want to get into trouble here, and we have notified the relevant authorities to deal with it. A white American soldier ran quickly toward the back.He stumbled as he pushed the two women away and fell into a row of seats, and the women fell with them in a domino effect.Two black GIs jumped the row to where the white fell.The woman yelled to go away, mingling with the savage battle cry of the male.The ignorant manager still asks everyone if they can just be quiet and leave by the back exit. Queenie took my hand, her nails gripping like claws.She grabs Arthur in the same way.Arthur is puzzled, looking like he's wondering if he's still at the movies. Come on, come on, you wanna play don't you nigga?A black man runs away from four white men, and more black men chase the group.The floor vibrated under their big boots.I found myself envious.come!I'm ready to punch someone today!It was only when I tried to loosen Queenie's grip a little in pain that I realized this woman wasn't seeking my protection.No, Queenie.Bly believed she was defending me.On the far side, a white American soldier grabbed a black man by the back of the neck, yanked the straight man around, punched him in the face, and the two roared fiercely like soldiers.A woman started the scuffle, also beating it repeatedly with a handbag.Before long, two burly soldiers were ducking their heads to avoid her swipe, and it wasn't until three other GIs (one black and two white) joined in full of energy that the woman found herself tripping and falling.oh!How loudly her friend screamed!The crowd came running: don't hold her down!Get out!In the end, everyone scuffled into a ball. While the rest of us were pushed away in panic, an irresistible current pulled everyone towards the door.Even if the American soldiers, black and white, were unwillingly racially integrated in this situation, they struggled together to walk through the exit for a moment.Queenie and I got lost in the jostling, our hands ripped from her grip. The cold night was relegated to less dim light, and everyone looked baffled as to why they were out there.I was pushed.While struggling to maintain balance, the fist is also ready to swing at the instigator.I turned around to find a small woman who only came up to my waist, I swear.This is all your fault.You will only cause trouble.She pushed me again. Miss!I use my size to show her my authority. If she pushes me again, how do I stop such a small, loud woman from humiliating me? It all starts with you. Miss, I just opened my mouth, and she clicked through the crowd like a laxative and disappeared.Boy, it's not anger that burns in these people's eyes, it's hatred.Tell me, if you're going to make a campfire out of the driest combustibles, are you going to blame the spark when it starts to blaze? But, oh shit, what a weird battlefield this is?On the sidewalk, a group of women with their headscarves pulled up drew the little boy close to him, looking around for friends, shouting: Vera, here, come here, honey, let's go.Others huddled into a small group and whined: What a shame our children wouldn't behave like this and should save their efforts to deal with the Germans The war isn't over and these people won't stop.Scattered in the middle of the road A group of American soldiers still strictly keeping black and white, yelling and insulting each other: Come on, nigga, come and play if you want to kill this goddamn bastard This is not Mississippi You are coming to tell me to shut up black There are slightly fewer American soldiers than whites, and it sounds like there is a shortage of swear words.How can the harmless-sounding white man be as blood-pulling and nerve-wracking as the words nigger, blackface, black charcoal, bushman?You want to play don't you nigga?If you want to play, I will give you a good look and fuck you bastard, you are dead. These American comrades who wear the same green uniforms to resist foreign aggression are about to start a brutal civil war on their own. Perhaps it was the sobering cold in the night air, or perhaps the locals had discovered the generational hatred of Americans.Who knows what's fermenting in movie theaters?But outside here, the blood of fighting has obviously disappeared.These irascibles now punch and kick the air.Blow only at the no man's land between the two sides.Sticks and stones flew together, and a group of people were scattered where they fell, but only vicious words hit the target.A white man was caught, struggling violently as if falling into the mouth of a crocodile, and after struggling to run back to his own boundary, he was kicked from behind and insulted: you white man, we will kick your ass, kick you ass.The Negro laughed.The feud has turned into a vicious ballet.Both sides began to leave.One little boy even ran between several groups, thinking only of GIs and chewing gum, asking: Got any gum, friend?I looked around for Queenie and Arthur, trying to escort them home. But then the whistle sounded.Beep︱Beep︱The orchestral sound of beep is as sharp as a needle, rippling in the air.Mercedes-Benz horses.I thought it was a herd of galloping horses, because there were so many boots running on the stony ground.American military police rushed down the street, white hats billowing like foam.This accident scared many people with their mouths wide open, and they were too surprised to move.These formidable military police raised their batons and attacked the group of black GIs.Powerless skulls shattered like walnuts, and the panicked blacks had nowhere to go but to stagger from under the angry boots, fists, and elbows of white GIs.These gendarmes added fuel to the extinguished fire, and soon the fight was burning like a purgatory again. Someone jumped behind me.A coal-like weight weighed on me, and the wet stone pavement rose and slammed into my head.The pounding in the ear was like church bells.A strong hand gripped the nape of my neck and pressed me against the gravel.My cheeks were scraped off by the damp grit.I struggled with all my might.It's not like Elwood is messing with me. Nobody's going to jump up and laugh and say it's my turn now.Anger lends me the strength to break free.I suddenly fell towards the man, and although I bit the belt, I still held him down.The ugly white GI lost his balance and fell back, resentment still on his face.I smacked him hard on the head, which knocked out his squinting eyes of glee, and we rolled, hugging like two lovers.After parting, I aimed to punch his soft stomach, but it landed on his hard ribs.To add another note, his stomach collapsed like a cushion, as if the air had been expelled from his body by farting loudly.He, who hadn't been defeated yet, pounced on me and bit my ear.The sting immediately made me stand up.I knocked him down again, kicked his belly, and kicked his feet. In front of the gendarmes, everyone is scattered like spores in the wind, regardless of race, black and white, like missiles launched with the strength of athletes.The gendarme came.A white man spilled bloody saliva by the window of a women's sporting goods store.The woman bending over him was chased away by three gendarmes.Someone suddenly violently lifted and pushed the heavy man to make him stand up.The two little girls clung to each other like two peanuts, standing trembling and crying.An older boy yelled Ma, Ma, while frantically pushing away anyone who got too close to them.A white GI hit a black man's head against a wall.The Negro oozes blood, red like the red cloth under his eyes.Blinded, he slams into a wall to avoid a gendarme's baton.A white American soldier was pushed to the ground, four pairs of boots ran over his back, and then kicked twice by two black men.The fallen man was like a rag on the ground, bouncing with every wind and grass. A flying bottle shattered at my feet, and I jumped indecently, feeling the shards slap my cheek.My uniform was filthy, the fabric was torn at both shoulders, the collar of my shirt was sticky, and the tie was missing.A gendarme, ignoring my RAF blue uniform and only caring about the color of my skin, raised his baton and prepared to attack me.It was the sound of shooting that stopped him.The sound of gunfire.Did I really hear it or just feel it?Because the soldiers all lowered their bodies, the trained reflexes made us squat down.Another shot rang out.This time even the common people were terrified.Just as the call of a mother's impending approach spoils the ardor of a childhood game, in this vile sideshow all those involved in the game examine each other and ask in utter silence: What's next? Well, let's face it.It was curiosity that drove me briskly down the street to where the crowds gathered.Didn't expect bravery, didn't expect heroism, and I tell you, didn't expect Queenie to drag me to where the gunshots came from.It was only when I heard her voice calling Arthur that I remembered that I had company that day. A gendarme wailed and told everyone to back off.The short-haired man stared at the ground with confused eyes. The gun was still smoking, and he held it carelessly in his hand to prevent the crowd from watching.A man was shot and lay at his feet.Before Queenie started swinging the gendarme's back, I knew it was Arthur.Bligh.Queenie smacked him all over the head, ripped off his hat, and screamed: Arthur, let me pass that's Arthur!Why are you shooting?That's just Arthur! Arthur was shot in the jaw and his head was smashed to pieces.I tried to get closer to Queenie, who was berating the stupid gendarme for proving once again that he had shot by mistake.But the white caps and galloping boots of the gendarmes poured in from all directions.This time they held their batons in a line across their chests, fending us off with this surrogate barricade.Back, back, everybody back.Keep moving, hurry up, get over there. Our group of inquirers was pushed, slipped and stumbled backwards.I couldn't see her, but as I yelled to Queenie, a gendarme pushed hard into my chest with a baton, his face was close to mine, and his warm breath rushed across my cheeks to send the words: Stay away from her, nigga!Only now do I feel the indelible pain of the fight: not from a scratch on my face, not a sprained shoulder.Arthur.Bligh has become another victim of the war, but come on, someone tell me which war it is?