Chapter 9 Nine

This was the first but not the last time I slipped into Finny's peaceful illusion.For hours, sometimes days, I fell unconsciously into this purely personal interpretation of the world.It's not that I'm convinced that making World War II was all a sham of fat old men, fascinating though it is.It was my own pleasure that misunderstood me; to know that peace was indivisible, and that the confusion of the world around me had no reaction within me.So I no longer experience a real sense of war. Even Leper's enlistment didn't shake that mindset in me.In fact, it makes the war less real than ever.No real war could make Lepper voluntarily leave his own snails and female otters.Leper's enlistment seemed to be just another whim, like the one he slept on top of Mount Katahdin, Maine, where the sun first shines each morning on American soil.That morning, Leper.Lepellier has realized a long-cherished wish: to be part of nature.He became the first thing on which the rising sun shone in America.

In early January, right after we all returned from Christmas break, a recruiter from the U.S. Ski Corps showed a movie to the fourth graders in the Renaissance Chamber.For Leper, the film presented what we're all looking for: a recognizably friendly face of war.Ski fighters in white cloaks soar down the clean hillside, like angels of silence, and then, the sled is in an inverted figure-eight shape, sliding up the hillside really, but this is a happy uphill, soaked in the sun Black hands, bright eyes, white teeth, and a chest full of fresh mountain air.It's the cleanest image of war I've ever seen; even the Air Force, known for its lofty distance from infantry dirt, looks oily by comparison, while the Navy, far more faulty, is nothing like it.As these white winter warriors dart down the spotless hillsides with nothing to contaminate them, this brilliant and clean response to war slides right into Leper's Vermont , mountainous and snowy, known for mountain skiing, is Lepper's hometown. 】heart of.

How about it!When these scenes were shown, he whispered to me in a surprised voice, how about it! You know, I think these are pictures of the Finnish Ski Troops, Phineas whispered on the other side of me, and I wonder when they open fire on our allies, the Bolsheviks.Unless that war between them was fake too, which I'm pretty sure. When the movie was over and the lights were turned on to illuminate the Tuscan frescoes and classic galleries that surrounded us, Leper was still sitting in his folding chair in amazement.Normally, he speaks very little, but the number of words coming out of his mouth now suggests that this is a turning point in his life.

guess what?Now I kind of understand what speed skating is all about.It didn't matter that I couldn't see the trees and the country and everything else in the rush.In war, one must be quick.Right?So I guess speed skaters are not discrediting the sport.They are preparing, if you know what I mean, preparing for the future.Everything has to evolve, or it will perish.Finey and I had stood up, and Leper, still sitting in his chair, looked earnestly at me and then at Finny.Take the housefly, which would have been extinct if it hadn't developed its own instantaneous response. Are you saying it adapted itself to the swatter?Phineas asked.

Not bad at all.Ski must learn to move as fast as possible or be wiped out by this war.Yes sir, guess what?I'm almost glad that such a war happened.It's like an experiment, right, and only properly evolved things and people survive. When Leper speaks softly, people tend to listen absentmindedly, but this assertion caught my attention.How does this assertion apply to me, and how does it apply to Phineas?In particular, how does it apply to Leper? I'm going to sign up for the ski troop.He continued speaking softly, without emphasis, so that my thoughts began to wander again.I've heard enough of the Brinkers and Co. this winter to talk about enlistment, their teeth gnashing and their eyes shining.But only Leper was serious.

A week later, he was gone.He was still a few weeks away from turning eighteen, and with his eighteenth birthday any chance of enlisting in the Army, of choosing a branch rather than being drafted into one, would be gone.That ski movie made the decision for him.I always thought that the war would come to me when it needed me. On the last day when he came to say goodbye to me, he said, I never thought I would go to it on my own initiative.I'm sure glad I saw that movie in time, really.Then, as the first WWII recruit at Devon School, he stepped out of my door, his conical knit cap bouncing behind his head.

It might have been better for all of us if the first soldier had been someone like Brinker.He was sure to give a more hilariously dramatic farewell, so that the school would echo with Brinker's parting words, Brinker's military presence, Brinker's sense of responsibility for weeks afterward.All of us, affected by the emptiness of his absence among us, will feel the concrete touch of war as an everyday fact. But the disappearance of Leper's hat tassel didn't stir that up at all.There were days when war was more unthinkable than ever.We didn't mention it, we didn't mention Leper, until Brinker finally found a dignified point.In the smoking room one day, he read aloud a newspaper rumor about an attempted assassination of Hitler.He put down the newspaper, stared dreamily ahead, and said: That's Leper, yes.

This establishes our connection to World War II.The battle of Tunisia became the liberation of Leper; the bombing of the Ruhr was exclaimed by Brinker in a tone of wounded pride: why didn't he tell us that he had left the Ski Corps; the sinking of the Scharnhorst German cruiser sunk by HMS Duke of York in December 1943. 】It is: shot again.Leppers appear all over the world and are at the heart of every Allied success.We talked a lot about Leper's position in Stalingrad, about Leper's on the Burma road, about Leper's frigate going to Archangel in the USSR; Lal can't solve it, only Leper has come forward; we know better than the newspapers that it is not the Big Three who dominate this war [Note: Refers to Churchill, Roosevelt and Stalin. ], but the Big Four.

In the intervals between not joking about Leper's stellar record, we all wondered whether we ourselves met the military's tiniest standards.I myself am ignorant of everything that is supposed to be known in the Army, and I know I don't; and when I'm not making fun of Lepper, I wonder what part of me I still hide, whether it contains the poor Sack [Note: American cartoonist George.The image of American soldiers created by Baker. ], tramps, or cowards.We all had fun with Lepper to the max, and we all secretly hoped that the cowardly Lepper was as heroic as we said he was. Everyone contributes to this legend, except Phineas.From the very beginning, when it came to the assassination of Hitler, Feeney said that if someone gave Leper a loaded gun and put it to Hitler's temple, he would miss it.This set off an outcry, and we later added bricks to Leper's triumphal arch on the foundation stone Brinker had laid.Phineas didn't take part in that kind of thing, and since there was little talk of anything else in the smoking-room, he soon stopped going there, and discouraged me from going there too. If you smoke like a chimney, you still How to become an athlete?He pulled me farther and farther away from the gang in the smoking room, away from Brinker and Chet and all the other friends, into a world where he and I lived, where there was no war, Just me and Phineas, among the people of the world, training for the 1944 Olympics.

At an all-boys school, Saturday afternoons are scary, especially in the winter.No football; no bike rides into the nearby countryside like in the spring.Even the most diligent students find it unnecessary to bury their heads in their books when there is still Sunday, the long, lazy, quiet Sunday, to do any homework. Worst of all are these late winter Saturdays when the snow has lost its novelty and sparkle and the school seems reduced to nothing more than a network of sewers.The snow and ice melt briefly after noon, and the sewage seeps into the pipes and makes a depressing gurgle as it flows down the gutters.There was a string of dirty gray moving under the snow shell, and the snow shell was cracked, revealing patches of frozen mud underneath.The bush, having lost its bright snow cap, stood naked and vulnerable, too malnourished to conceal the drainage it was meant to conceal.Some days, entering any building, you walk through a layer of dirt and ashes brought in by the person in front of you, like a mat, thinning and thinning until it fades into the hallway.The sky was a hollow, hopeless gray that seemed to be its eternal hue.The occupation of winter seems to have conquered, usurped, and ruined everything, so that now there is no longer any resistance left in nature; all sap is dried up, all twigs that hold life are snapped off, and now winter itself, a The old, decayed, weary conqueror loosened his grip on the desolation, retracted a little, and his watch became inattentive; tired of victory, enfeebled by lack of challenge, he himself began retreat in the countryside.Only the drains are active, and on these Saturdays their noise sounds like the end of winter's monotony.

Only Phineas couldn't see the frustration.Just as there is no war in his philosophy, there is no demoralizing weather.As I once said, all weather makes Phineas happy.Do you know what we should do next Saturday?He began with one of his voices, a melodious bass that somehow reminded me of a Rolls Royce driving down the road.We'd better organize a winter carnival. The two of us sat in our room, single large windows on either side framing a featureless gray sky.Phineas is placing his leg in a plaster cast, now much smaller, on the table, scratching thoughtfully with a jackknife.What winter bash?I asked. It's winter carnival.Devon Winter Bash. There is no such thing as a Devon Winter Bash at all, and there never was one before. There is now.We'll do it in that park on the banks of the Naguamsett River.The main content is sports of course, the featured content I hope is ski jumping Ski jumping!That park is as flat as a frying pan. And some sort of slalom, with a small track I suppose.But we've got to make some snowmen, some music, and some food, too.Well, which organizing committee are you going to be in charge of? I smiled at him icily, Snowman Preparatory Committee. I know you will.You've always thought of yourself as an artist at heart, haven't you?I organize the sporting events, Brinker can manage the music and the food, and we need someone to beautify the grounds, put in a couple of holly wreaths and stuff.This should be done by someone who is good at plants and shrubs.I know who is right.leper. I was looking at the stars he had carved on the plaster, when I heard that I quickly raised my head, looked at his face, and Leper was gone. Ah yes, he is gone.Leper actually left.Ah, someone else then. Because it was Finny's idea, it happened just as he said it would, though not as easily as he had imagined in his initial inspiration.You know, as the weeks go by, the students in our dormitory building become less and less enthusiastic about almost everything.In the case of Brinker, since I dismissed his plans to enlist in the Army that morning, he has embarked on a long, determined, continuous withdrawal from school activities.He wasn't outraged by my change of heart, in fact he experienced his own change of heart right away.If he couldn't join the army (although Brinker is very self-reliant, he can hardly do anything without company), then he can at least stop participating in so many civilian activities.So he resigned as president of the Golden Fleece Debating Club, stopped writing for the school spirit column in the school newspaper, gave up the title of chairman of the local chapter of the Charitable and Fraternal Society for Deprived Children of Basic Rights, and stopped singing him in the chapel choir. The baritone even, in the most impressively irresponsible impulse, went so far as to resign from such organizations as the Student Advisory Council and the Chancellor's Le Charitable Fund.Gone are his sharp suits; these days he wears khaki trousers, a military belt and squeaky leather boots. Who wants anything for a winter bash?When I made the motion he said in a tone of recent disenchantment, celebrate what? Winter, I think so. winter!He stared out the window at the empty sky and the watery ground, and frankly, I saw nothing to celebrate, whether it was winter, or spring, or any other season. It was the first time Finny wanted to do anything since he came back. He's been doing nothing, right?He wasn't brooding darkly, was he? No, he does not brood gloomyly. Yes, I don't think he will.Ah, if you think that's what Feeney really wanted to do.However, there has never been a winter carnival here before.I thought there might be school rules that forbid this. So it is, I said, and the tone of my words caused Brinker to raise his eyes, and his eyes met mine for the first time.In the glance of a conspirator like us, all his suspicions are dispelled, for Brinker, the legislator, has become a rebel of extraordinary times. Saturday was as gray as a battleship.All morning the equipment for the winter carnival had been hauled out of the dorms and into the half-baked little park on the banks of the Naguamste River.Brinker oversaw the transport, running up and down the stairs, babbling and giving orders.He reminds me of a pirate captain dividing the spoils.The jugs of strong cider he blackmailed from the underclassmen were the most carefully guarded treasures.They were buried in the snow next to a cluster of ivy in the center of the park, and Brinker assigned his roommate, Brownie.Perkins defended them with his life.The order had to be followed exactly, and Brownie understood that.So he stood guard in the center of the park for several hours, trembling all by himself, thinking about what to do if he had appendicitis, losing courage at the thought that he might faint, and terrified at the realization that he might have to have his appendix removed. Until we finally arrive.Brownie sneaked back to the dorm afterward, too exhausted to enjoy the orgy.On this day of wildly illegal competition, no one noticed this. Buried cider is conspiratorially, consciously or not, at the heart of the revelry.Big, slippery snowmen were piled up around it, and figures were imitated in snowmen, which was easy because the snow was sticky and wet.Nearby, incongruously set amidst the white snow, a heavy round desk looks like a rich widow in a salon.The desk had been moved the night before with great difficulty at Finny's insistence that he must have something to display the prize on.There are prizes on the desks: Finey's refrigerator, which has been hiding in the dorm basement for months; "De" [Note: Also translated "Ilion", is a narrative epic written by the ancient Greek poet Homer. ], with an English translation at the top of every sentence; ]'s photo album; there is Hazel, a professional beauty from this town.A lock of forced-cut hair from Brewster's head; a hand-braided rope ladder with the added condition that the winner must live in a room on or above the third floor; a fake draft registration card; Four dollars and one-thirteen dollars from the Leshan Foundation.Brinker laid this last prize on the table in such solemn silence that we all thought it best not to ask any questions about it. Phineas sat behind this table in a chair of carved black walnut throughout; the two arms of the chair topped with lion heads, and the claws on the bottom of the legs holding the wheels were now sunk in the snow. middle.He just bought it this morning.Phineas shopped only on impulse, and only when he had money, and since the two rarely happened together, he seldom shopped. Chet.Douglas stood beside him with a trumpet in hand.Feeney very regretfully abandoned the plan to invite the school band to play, because then the news of our carnival would spread to every corner of the campus.Anyway, Chet will improve the raspy sound in here eventually.He was a thin, fair-skinned boy with bulbous golden-brown curls that curled over his forehead, and he devoted himself to two extracurricular activities, tennis and trumpet.He's so good at both, it's like he's born with them, so much so that after watching him I start to think I'll be good at one of them if I just practice for a weekend.To the same degree that the rest of us are outwardly everything, Chet has an underlying helpfulness and consideration that prevents him from being a valued member of the class.To come across as having a personality you have to be rude at least once in a while and lose your temper a lot, without which nobody gets ahead in German.No one, except Phineas, of course. To the left of the prize table, Brinker straddles his stash of cider; behind him is a clump of ivy, and behind the ivy there is, after all, a gentle slope where the ski jumping committee is struggling to pile up the snow On an inclined platform, the edge of the platform is about a foot above the raised slope.Further behind is a row of snowmen, although the snowmen are difficult to distinguish, but they are artistically taking the headmaster, Mr. Lutzbury, Patch.Mr. Withers, Dr. Stempel, the new nutritionist, and Hazel.To Brewster's delight, they curved in a closed semicircle to the icy, muddy, inarticulate, gurgling Naguamste River, and turned back to the other end of the prize table. After the platform was piled up, there was a certain amount of confusion all around; twenty boys who had been getting ready in the ice and snow, now stood there with a bit of clench between their teeth, just waiting for an order.Phineas was supposed to call the race off, but he was too busy cataloging the prizes.So everyone's eyes turned to Brinker next to him.He'd been posing in a Gibraltar-fortified pose over his cider; he continued to look around with challenging eyes until he began to realize that wherever he looked, calculating eyes were looking back at him. All right, all right, he called hoarsely, let's get started. It can be noticed that the encirclement has tightened a little bit. Go ahead, he called, Hi, Finny.first what? Phineas' multitasking mind can register what's going on in the background, but let it go because he's busy with something else.He seemed to be sinking even deeper into his own catalog. Phineas!Brinker gritted his teeth and called out the name, what should we do next? The head with its glossy brown hair was still bowed, lost in the catalog. What's the hurry, Brinker, someone in the tightening circle asked in a dangerously friendly tone.What is there to urge? We can't just stand around here all day, he blurted out, and if we're going to really want to do it, we've got to start.What to do next?Phineas! The record in Finny's head finally reached a climax.He looked up blankly, surveying Brinker's beleaguered equestrian crouch, the calm of the boys surrounding him approaching a turning point, Finny hesitated, blinked, and then used his organ-like The voice said happily: Next?Isn't that obvious, it's you. Chet blew the savage bullfight start call on his trumpet, and the circle of boys charged wildly at Brinker.He backed up to the ivy with his arms waving, the jugs of cider poking out of the snow.Hell, he kept yelling, losing his balance among the ivy branches.hell!At this moment, the cider, which he apparently expected to give out in accordance with the whims of his reign, was disappearing.There will be no domination on this German Saturday, let alone by whim, by Brinker's whim. In the midst of the confusion, I snatched a can of wine from a snatcher, elbowed a counterattack, lifted the lid, took a sip, choked, and then, carrying out my original plan, gagged the brin with it Kerr's mouth.His eyeballs bulged and the veins in his throat began to throb until I finally put the jar down. He shot me a long, thoughtful look, his face frozen and focused, and the brain behind it apparently oscillating between rage and hilarity; I felt like if I blinked, he would give I punch.The orgy was exploding into a riot like a bomb hanging between the two of us.I continued to stare back at him indifferently until his mouth opened wide enough on his sullen face full of scowls to spout a sentence: I was violated! I jerked the jug to my mouth and took a long swig, and the violence that had been dormant for the day faded away; perhaps the Naguamste carried it out to sea at ebb.Brinker strode past the chaotic boys to Phineas.I solemnly declare, he roared, the game begins now! You can't do that, Finey accuses, and who ever heard of a game starting without the Olympic flame? I realized that I had to play the cabaret, and an expression came over my face that a sports meeting without a flame was unheard of in all the world.fire Fire.I speak above the sticky white snow. Let's sacrifice one prize, Phineas said, grabbing the Iliad.He sprinkled cider on the pages to make them more flammable, then lit a match on it, and a small flame swirled upward.The games, illuminated by Homer and cider, begin. Chet.Douglas leaned against the side of the prize table and continued to play the notes to his heart's content.He completely forgot about all of us, forgot about the sporting events that Feeney had now set in motion, wandering here and there, sometimes at the start of a ski jump, blowing a fitting call, and more often The serenity of Haydn, or a high, distant, self-important Spanish world, or the jovial worldly carefreeness of New Orleans. Strong cider is starting to work on us.I wondered, maybe it wasn't the cider that did the trick, but our own impassioned words and actions that intoxicated us and let go of our restraints, that made Brinker throw the football cricket on the principal's snowman.When I put on a sled, slide down a small slope, and feel soaring in a small ski jump, it makes me fly high in the air; To the Spanish tune, climbed to the top of the prize table and created a burlesque dance among the prizes with only one leg, jumping, twirling, jumping from space to space, rubbing Hazel.The side of Brest's hair, never stepping on the photo of Grambow by mistake.I knew that Phineas was not affected by strong cider, but by the joy of living that he felt for a moment in his heart.This happiness is due, it was originally in his nature, and under the influence of this happiness, he regained the magical ability to hang in space, touched the table with one foot briefly, and then spun again Jump in the air.It was his wildest expression, in the kind of world he loved; it was his peaceful dance. When he stopped, and sat down among the prizes, he said: "Now we're going to do the decathlon.Everyone be quiet, our Olympian Gene.Forrester will do the qualification certification next.At this moment, it wasn't cider that made me scramble to do everything he ordered: run as if I were abstract speed itself; head balanced; the long jump, and if his order had been to jump across the Naguamust, I would have landed in the middle of the Naguamunster boathouse with a click; Even the ego of the Devon boys was magically dispelled this day) accepting a garland of ivy branches that Phineas had placed on my head.It wasn't cider that lifted me above myself, but our escape from it, and the freedom we gained from it, as the grayness of 1943 was approaching, the illusory , special, alone peace. That's why I didn't notice Brownie.Perkins came from the dormitory and came among us, and I didn't hear him say anything until Feeney called out hilariously: A telegram from Jean?From the Olympic Committee.They want you!Of course they want you!Give it to me, Brownie, and I'll read it to the crew.As I watched Finny's face go through all the changes from boisterous to shocked, the joy in my head faded along with it. I took the telegram from Phineas and resolved to face whatever destruction lay ahead.That's what I've learned to do this winter. I escaped and need help.I'm at Christmas location.you understand.No need to risk writing addresses here.My safety depends on your immediate arrival. (Signed) Your best friend, Erwin.Leiper.Lepellier