The Young Lions

"Hope," Noah said, staring fixedly at the swelling belt. "Tell me the truth."

Hope sighed. "All right," she said. "Five more months. I don't know why I didn't write you when I could. I have to stay in bed most of the time. I have to give up my job. The doctor says I'll probably have a miscarriage if I keep on working. That's probably why I didn't let you know. I wanted to be sure it was going to be all right."

Noah looked at her gravely. "Are you glad?" he asked.

"I don't know," Hope said, wishing the MP would fall to the floor in a dead faint, "I don't know anything. Don't let this influence you one way or another."

Noah sighed. Then he leaned over and kissed her forehead.

"It's wonderful," he said. "Absolutely wonderful." Hope glared at the MP, the bare room, the barred window.

"What a place," she said, "what a place to learn something like this."

The MP stolidly scratched his back along the frame of the door. "One more minute," he said.

"Don't worry about me," Hope said, swiftly, her words tumbling over each other. "I'll be all right. I'm going to my parents. They'll take care of me. Don't you worry at all."

Noah stood up. "I'm not worried," he said. "A child…" He waved vaguely, in a stiff, boyish gesture, and even now, in this grim room, Hope had to chuckle at the dear, familiar movement. "Well, now…" Noah said. "Well, what do you know?" He walked over to the window, and looked out through the bars at the enclosed courtyard. When he turned back to her his eyes seemed blank and lustreless. "Please," he said, "please go to Captain Lewis and tell him I'll go anywhere they send me."

"Noah…" Hope stood up, half in protest, half in relief.

"All right," the MP said. "Time's up." He opened the door.

Noah came over to her and they kissed. She took his hand and held it for a moment against her cheek. But the MP said, "All right, Lady," and she went through the door. She turned before the MP could close it again and saw Noah standing there, thoughtfully watching her. He tried to smile, but it didn't come out a smile. Then the MP closed the door, and she didn't see him again.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

"I'M going to tell you the truth," Colclough was saying. "I'm sorry to see you back. You're a disgrace to this Company and I don't think we can make a soldier out of you in a hundred years. But by God, I'm going to try, if I have to break you in half doing it."

Noah stared at the twitching pale spot gleaming at the end of the Captain's nose. It was all the same, the same glaring light in the orderly room, the same stale joke pi

"Naturally, you have no privileges." Colclough was speaking slowly, with solemn enjoyment. "You will get no passes and no furloughs. You will be on KP every day for the next two weeks, and after that you will have Saturday and Sunday from then on. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Sir," Noah said.

"You have the same bunk you had before. I warn you, Ackerman, you will have to be five times more soldier than anybody in this outfit, just to keep alive. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Sir," Noah said.

"Now get out of here. I don't want to see you in this orderly room again. That's all."

"Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir." Noah saluted and went out. He walked slowly down the familiar Company street towards his old barracks. He felt a constriction in his throat as he saw its lights shining through the bare windows fifty yards away and the familiar figures moving around within.

Suddenly he wheeled. The three men who were following him stopped in the darkness. But he recognized them. Do

"We are the welcoming committee," Do

Noah reached into his pocket. He ripped out the spring knife that he had bought in town on the way to camp. He pressed the button and the six-inch blade whickered out of its sheath. It caught the light, gleaming new and bright and deadly in his hand. The three men stopped when they saw the knife.

"The next man that touches me," Noah said quietly, "gets this. If anybody in this Company ever touches me again I'm going to kill him. Pass the good word along."

He stood erect, the knife held at hip level in front of him.

Do

"For the time being," Do

Noah gri

But he hesitated for a long moment at the barracks door. From inside he could hear a man singing, "And then I hold your hand, And then you understand…"

Noah threw the door open and stepped in. Riker, near the door saw him. "My God," he said, "look who's here."

Noah put his hand into his pocket and felt the cold bone handle of the knife.

"Hey, it's Ackerman," Collins, across the room, said. "What do you know?"

Suddenly they were crowding around him. Noah backed unostentatiously against the wall, so that no one could get behind him. He fingered the little button that sprang the knife open.

"How was it, Ackerman?" Maynard said. "Did you have a good time? Go to all the night clubs?"

The others laughed, and Noah flushed angrily, until he listened carefully to the laughter, and slowly realized that it did not sound threatening.

"Oh, Christ, Ackerman," Collins said, "you should have seen Colclough's face the day you went over the hill! It was worth joining the Army for." All the men roared in fond memory of the day of glory.

"How long were you gone, Ackerman?" Maynard asked.

"Two months?"

"Four weeks," Noah said.

"Four weeks!" Collins marvelled. "Four weeks' vacation! I wish I had the guts to do it myself, I swear to God…"

"You look great, kid," Riker clapped his shoulder. "It's done you a world of good."

Noah stared at him, disbelievingly. This was another trick, and he kept his hand firmly on the knife.

"After you left," Maynard said, "three other guys took the hint and went AWOL. You set a style here, a real style. The Colonel came down and wanted to know what sort of Company Colclough was ru

"Here," Burnecker said, "we found these under the barracks and I saved 'em for you." He held out a small, burlap-wrapped package. Slowly Noah opened the package, staring at Burnecker's widely gri

Noah shook his head slowly. "Thanks," he said, "thanks, boys," and put the books down. He did not dare to turn and show the watching men what was going on in his face. Dimly, he realized that his personal armistice with the Army had been made. It had been made on lunatic terms, on the threat of the knife and the absurd prestige of his opposition to authority, but it was real, and standing there, looking cloudily down on the tattered books on his bunk, with the voices of the other men a loud blur behind him, he knew that it probably would last, and might even grow into an alliance.