The Young Lions

Michael blinked. Of all the things you thought might happen to you before you went into the Army, you never imagined anything like this. "You're crazy," he said. "This is just a joke."

"Maybe," said Noah flatly. "Maybe I'm getting tired of jokes."

"What made you pick on me?" Michael asked.

Noah took a deep breath and Michael could hear the air whistling into the boy's nostrils. He looked taut and very handsome in a rough-cut, archaic, tragic way in the blocked light and shadows from the hanging lamp across the street. "You're the only one," Noah said, "I felt I could trust in the whole Company. " Suddenly he grabbed the two sheets of paper. "O.K.," he said, "if you don't want to help, the hell with you…"

"Wait a minute," Michael said, feeling dully that somehow he must prevent this savage and ludicrous joke from being played out to its limit. "I haven't said I won't help."

"O.K., then," Noah said harshly. "Go in and arrange the schedule."

"What schedule?"

"There are ten of them. What do you want me to do – fight them in one night? I have to space them. Find out who wants to fight me first, who wants to fight me second, and so on. I don't care how they come."

Michael took the sheet of paper silently from Noah's hand and looked at the names on the list. Slowly he began to place the names. "You know," he said, "that these are the ten biggest men in the Company."

"I know."

"Not one of them weighs under a hundred and eighty pounds."

"I know."

"How much do you weigh?"

"A hundred and thirty-five."

"They'll kill you."

"I didn't ask you for advice," Noah said evenly. "I asked you to make the arrangements. That's all. Leave the rest to me."

"I don't think the Captain will allow it," Michael said.

"He'll allow it," said Noah. "That son of a bitch will allow it. Don't worry about that."

Michael shrugged. "What do you want me to arrange?" he asked. "I can get gloves and two-minute rounds and a referee and…"

"I don't want any rounds or any referees," Noah said. "When one of the men can't get up any more, the fight will be over." Michael shrugged again. "What about gloves?"

"No gloves. Bare fists. Anything else?"

"No," said Michael. "That's all."

"Thanks," Noah said. "Let me hear how you make out."

Without saying goodbye, he walked stiffly down the Company street. Michael watched the shadowy, erect back vanishing in the darkness. Then he shook his head once and walked slowly towards the barracks door, looking for the first man, Peter Do

Do

"I think," Michael said, stepping forward, "that that's enough for this…"

"Get the hell out of here," Noah said thickly, pushing himself up from the ground with his two hands.

He stood before Do

"All right." Michael looked up at Do

Quietly the circle of watching men broke up and started to drift away.

"What do you know," Michael heard Do

Michael stood at the latrine window, smoking a cigarette, watching Noah, bent over one of the sinks, washing his face with cold water. Noah was bare to the waist, and there were huge red blotches on his skin. Noah lifted his head. His right eye was closed by now, and the blood had not stopped coming from his mouth. He spat, and two teeth came out, in a gob of red.

Noah didn't look at the teeth, lying in the basin. He dried his face thoughtfully with his towel, the towel staining quickly.

"All right," Michael said, "I think that did it. I think you'd better cancel the rest…"

"Who's the next man on the list?"

"Listen to me," Michael said. "They'll kill you finally."

"The next man is Wright," Noah said flatly. "Tell him I'll be ready for him three nights from now." Without waiting for Michael to say anything, Noah wrapped the towel around his bare shoulders and went out of the latrine door.

Michael looked after him, took another drag on his cigarette, threw the cigarette away and went out into the soft evening. He did not go into the barracks because he didn't want to see Ackerman again that evening.

Wright was the biggest man in the Company. Noah did not try to avoid him. He stood up, in a severe, orthodox boxing pose, and flashed swiftly in and out among the flailing slow hands, cutting Wright's face, making him grunt when he hit him in the stomach.

Amazing, Michael thought, watching Noah with grudging admiration; he really knows how to box. Where did he pick it up?

"In the belly," Rickett called from his post in the i

"Well?" said Wright, belligerently, standing over Noah.

"Well?"

"Go home," Michael said. "You were wonderful."

Noah began to breathe again, the air struggling through his throat in hoarse, agonized whistles. Wright touched Noah contemptuously with his toe and turned away, saying, "Who's going to buy me a beer?"

The doctor looked at the X-rays and said that two ribs were broken. He taped Noah's chest with bandage and adhesive, and made Noah lie still in the infirmary bed.

"Now," Michael said, standing over Noah in the ward, "now, will you quit?"

"The doctor says it will take three weeks," Noah said, the speech coming painfully through his pale lips. "Arrange the next one for then."

"You're crazy," said Michael. "I won't do it."

"Deliver your goddamn lectures some place else," Noah whispered. "If you won't do it, you can leave now. I'll do it myself."

"What do you think you're doing?" Michael asked. "What do you think you're proving?"

Noah said nothing. He stared blankly and wildly across the ward at the man with a broken leg who had fallen off a truck two days before.

"What are you proving?" Michael shouted.

"Nothing," Noah said. "I enjoy fighting. Anything else?"

"No," said Michael. "Not a thing."

He went out.