Chapter 45 forty four bernard

He talks like I won the lottery and got discharged.I can't tell that he is the one who sent me to jail in the first place.Look me straight in the eye and happily deliver the message.It is obvious that a man of my caliber would be proud to have the message delivered by the Commander himself.Bligh, it's time.Pack your Calcutta stuff, you have a week to Mumbai and you're heading home. Rumor has it that our squad was one of the last to leave India.And thanks to this commander, I left later than most.One brother even became a local, refused to board the ship to go home, and was directly discharged from the army in Calcutta.Only a few hapless ghosts remained to count the days.Lieutenant Meng sat tall in the car and wanted to ask the driver to drive, but he stuttered when he gave the order, said go ahead, then clapped his hands and swallowed the words back to his mouth.

The shed has completely disappeared and the RAF police have cleared everything, leaving only charred marks.It was a charcoal-black square drawn on the ground, so incredibly small that it looked no bigger than a suitcase, and it was hard to imagine how a hammock would fit, let alone eight large men laying down in it.Aff.Lamb, Bill.Bao Mo, Nobby.Brownfield, I know all these people.Especially Nobby, we once went out to salvage the river together, and he volunteered to dive into the water and swim under the wreckage to tie the cable.I was part of the team that moved the Wellington bomber at the time and I believe Ave was there too.Speaking of Jock.Davidson, as long as you show a little interest, he will retell the story of helping the aborigines kill tigers.The pig was tied to a prominent place on a tree, sat in a branch all night, and finally shot the tiger between the eyebrows with a bullet.For a while he was a local hero.Don't know Gordon well.Pink or Jack.Buck, they're not long on my team.Even without this fire, Ron.Simpson was also an unlucky guy. He participated in the D-Day landings, parachuted down, and watched most of his companions be shot before they hit the ground.He was also injured twice.He thought he would be home on VE Day.Drunk like a rough worker, climbing the light pole with a Mizi flag painted on his back.The next week was sent on a ship to the East.Of course, the eighth name on this dreaded list is my friend: George.Maximilian.

The young commander's car drove past the charred huts.I stood there, saluting the commander in the rising dust, watching the car roll over the graves of eight airmen, leaving two tire marks.The shack no longer existed, it was a shortcut for him.After he left, I had to spit on the ground to get the sand and dust out of my mouth. This is how I found myself back in Calcutta.The vulture still sits on the roof and looks down like a bony, hunchbacked old woman.They watch me go.Silly as it is, their eager eyes make me imagine they recognize that I've been here.The carnage that made them gorge was cleared away, of course, the mound of rotting rubbish, the pecked carcasses of the dead, all gone, but these hideous beasts still waited patiently for their next chance.I got my military uniform from the storage center, it was the only thing I had left.The beanie made me look like an old man, like the Home Guard dressed as a soldier.The pants are too wide and the jacket is a little too big.The military uniform has been here for several years, when I was in a stronger frame.

I saw him on the training ground.JohnnyPilpo, whom his foolish friends called Iron Head Nail.I can't believe it's him.It was so lighthearted.Walk lightly and calmly.He stops me.grab my arm.Give me a hug.You could tell he was happy to see me. Hey, hey, hey, uncle, are you still here?I thought they put you on board, what are you doing here? I had no choice but to tell him that I was going to Mumbai. He said: So what are you doing in Calcutta?Then interrupted my response and said: I knew it, and you finally listened to my advice.ah?Uncle?Come here for a woman?See if you can learn something here to show your wife before you go home?

I am speechless.This scoundrel should be locked up instead of insulting me with these words in this stuffy city.I can recommend a few, but not on Liberty School Street.I will give you an address and they will make you very comfortable.All very clean.very young.pretty.You know. I told him: No, thank you. Uncle, don't do this.Your little friend really needs to let off steam and is shriveled inside. The nasty fellow!He should be in jail, I told him. He said: Prison!Why?What did you say? Not that. What's up?Would you like to spend the night with the lady? God, can't you think of anything else?

Sure, I just don't want to.He laughed, blinking his eyes like a broken light bulb.He pushed a small note into my hand, but I didn't want to take it, so he stuffed it into my pocket.Tap twice and say: Trust me, you won't regret it.You go ask your buddy Macy. What's the matter with Macy? He did not insult.Went back several times. I told him: nonsense! You don't have to trust me, just ask him. I said: Macy's dead.This sentence made his smug face turn pale. died! Died in the shed fire, along with seven others. God, it's really miserable.dead, how did it happen?

I told him: that's your fault. He was transfixed, looking at me like a coolie, with his mouth open and his eyes wide.Who will blink first, me or him?He finally said: You say it again? I said it was your fault.that fire.The fire that killed eight people was because of you. I didn't know him at all, and hadn't seen him since leaving Calcutta.He frowned, his eyebrows forming a V shape above his eyes.I almost feel sorry for him.There are too many burdens, too many deaths of eight people.Then his mouth opened slowly, revealing two front teeth, which looked like they were made of wood because of the nicotine stains.I haven't been near your troops for eight hundred years.What else do you have to say, uncle?

They want to set you free.They meet at the shed.While inside, the shed burned down. What crime? that matter. which thing? Failure to obey orders. Oh, that thing!Haven't you heard?They dropped all charges within days.I was sent to another unit.The commander didn't care at all. He said the war was over long ago, and Jody and I should have gone home long ago anyway.I had a good record, so he just gave us a little warning, some discipline and stuff, that's all.I promised to be a good boy from now on, and he let the past go.He told his story thinking I would be happy for him.This man is an idiot.But what happened to Macy's was really bad news.

I said: He is a gentleman. True, but he knew how to have fun.His eyes lit up again.As always, think only with your lower body. Oh, for heaven's sake!Do you understand human affairs?Someone died trying to collect your mess. listen, uncle.They're your teammates, I know that.You are very angry, who would not be angry?But things have nothing to do with me. Nothing to do with you?It has a great relationship with you and people like you. He stared at me for a moment, trying to figure out how to respond.He looked behind me, bit his lip, looked down at his feet, and back to my face.Fuck you, uncle.He turned away, took two steps, then stopped, and turned to face me again.It suddenly occurred to me that someone told me about you?Are you in trouble?Wasn't he locked up in jail?

I didn't feel the need to answer him, so I stood at attention, raised my head, and straightened my chest. Right, isn't it?why?Because you're a poor bastard?The most useless airman in the squad? I grabbed his neck and pressed my hand against his Adam's apple, feeling my nails in his skin.But he pushed me away he was younger.He walked away and I ran after him.I've never hit anybody intentionally in my life, but for God's sake, I'm going to.As soon as he dodged, I punched and lost my center of gravity.This idiot is laughing at me.I struck again, and he raised his huge arm to my forehead.His arms are as long as a gorilla, and my fists can't touch him at all, and he makes me struggle like a fool in front of a bully, constantly punching the air between us.Passers-by found it amusing, thinking that the two soldiers must be having fun.His opponent is a tiger.When he dropped his hand, I jumped on him, but he grabbed me and twisted my arm behind my back, I thought he was going to break my arm.He put his mouth close to my ear and said contemptuously: God, uncle, you are a living joke, you know that?Everyone says so.Macy's the only one who can put up with you.Go and make yourself happy, uncle.Let your poor wife know you learned something useful here.

She barely speaks English and just picks up a few words from other men who patronize. British soldier, do you like me?Clean good girl? I told her to shut up. She lay back on the bed, resting her chin on her elbows.Eyes me as I unbutton my trousers.I told her: turn your head away.Said it twice.The silly girl could only smile, obviously not having heard these words from the British soldiers.keep looking at me.Eyelids blinked slowly as if sleepy.I turned my back on her. Which do you prefer, British soldier? I turned my back to her and said: dog style. She stood up against me and started running her hands on my back, not knowing what I was talking about.dog style.I said it again.She slid one hand across my breast and I watched her little brown fingers press against my nipple.I turned around and shook her off.Dog pose, propped up on hands and knees. She frowned. like this.I showed her what to do, the way Nails had shown me.She finally squirmed into bed, propping herself up on all fours.The thighs of her ass were as tight as a glued kite.Smooth as marble.The chest hangs like a cow.She looked back curiously, wondering if she was doing the right thing.I get a hard erection.Go to bed behind her.Brace yourself on your knees, grab whatever you can on her body, and get right into her.she yelled.Can't understand.British soldiers or something.I told her: shut up.Then she began to twist her body from side to side, like a passionate dancer in a Middle Eastern market.I yelled: don't move. She gasped: ah, ah.She twisted her body in a way that her GIs would usually prefer. There was no other way, I grabbed her by the hair and clenched my fist tightly, immobilizing the writhing whore while I penetrated her.I hit her hard!Just like they promised me. It didn't take much time.Roaring and shooting (I admit it).Ejaculation is truly a relief, like sinking yourself into cold water in a bathtub.I leaned back, closed my eyes, and gasped.After a few minutes of calm, I realized my fist was still gripping her hair.Her head was pulled back and she grinned, showing her teeth.I quickly let go, and she quickly moved away from me.Get out of bed and run away out of my reach.Only then did I see that she was just a girl.Must be under fifteen.No, younger.Fourteen, maybe even twelve.a little girl.Didn't notice it before, just being led into a whore room.The colored lights, the cheap decorations on the walls, the overpowering scent of jasmine.The breath-like murmur: Hello, British soldier.Exposing nightgown, open breasts, bare buttocks.And sadly I need just that.But now her black eyes are innocent as a baby's, and the fear in them accuses me of evil.What am I doing? What would Queenie think of her husband now?Pants down to the ankles, defile someone else's daughter in a whorehouse.This war made you like this?She would say so.This war did not make me a hero, it brought me to my knees. I am very sorry.I said to the girl.She can't understand.I hold out my hand to her.I am truly sorry.But she flinched, full of fear.She covered her body as best she could, using her arms, her hands.I've never done anything like this before, so I don't know what's wrong with me.She fumbled around for her dressing gown, visibly too scared to let me out of her sight.Please forgive me.I moved again, just moved my knees slightly to sit on the bed, and she immediately took a horrified breath.I told her: I won't touch you.She crouched on the ground like a desperate animal.I explained: I'm British, serving in the Royal Air Force.In my hometown, I am a bank teller, which is a job that requires a sense of responsibility.I'm married, you know, British me, British but I feel like a brute.At this moment, for some unknown reason, the whimpering of a child burst out of my body. I took a big breath, opened my mouth, and ended the suffocating long pause with a wail of extreme pain.My whole body was convulsed violently, my hands were shaking, I covered my face, longing for more air, and the air flowed into my body in pathetic sobs. She came and stood in front of me.The expression softened and returned to the sweetness of a girl.I doubt she has ever seen a British soldier cry.She reached out and touched my cheek.Wipe away the tears.The tenderness hurts.Shocked me like electricity on a current.I am so sorry.I said it again, breathing in gasp.I wiped my face as best I could.She patted my arm, and her hand was not as big as a monkey's palm.Then she said: Johnny, Johnny, don't cry, Johnny. It was the name that worked.Not Johnny.Something that Pilpo might have had before.It's the way she says the name.Give me panic.Like a Japanese soldier calling me and Macy: Johnny, save me, Johnny.This cheers me up right away.I told her: Don't call me that, my name is not Johnny.This sentence made her deftly move back away from me again. There was no other way but to throw my money at the poor whore and leave.