Without "the wife is a bitch" kind of urges, but... Without "the wife is a bitch" kind of urges, but even there, could he label it for certain? Cummings had been rightThey were both the same, and it had produced first the intimacy, the attraction they had felt toward each other, and then the hatred
It was between them still as far as he was concernedEvery time he saw Cummings, if even for an instant, there was the same clutch of fear and hatred inside him, the same painful evocation of that moment when he had stooped to pick up the cigaretteIt was still humiliating, still informativeHe had never realized the extent of his own vanity, the hatred it was capable of generating when woundedCertainly, he had never hated anyone the way Cummings affected him nowThe week he had spent in G-3 under Dalleson had been lived at half-throttle; he had absorbed the procedures, done his work
omega de ville men's watches automatically, and had smoldered inside with an almost unbearable frustrationLately, he had begun to step out; this afternoon he had been flip with Dalleson, and that was an indication of something else, something not so pleasingIf he remained here he was likely to dissipate himself in a series of insignificant rebellions that would end only in further humiliationThe thing to do was to move out, be transferred, but Cummings would not let himAnd the rage he had kept tightly throttled all week was surging againIf only he could go up to Cummings and ask for a front-line platoon, but that would be fatalCummings would give him anything but that
The phone rang, and Hearn picked it upThe voice at the other end spluttered at him"This is Paragon Red, negative report from 0030 to 0130 Hearn hung up, and stared at the message he had scribbled
prada clutch on a padIt was a completely automatic report which was phoned in every hour from every battalionOn an ordinary night fifty such reports would come inHe picked up his pencil, about to mark it in the Journal, when Dalleson stepped into the tentStacey, the clerk, who had been drowsing over his magazine, straightened upDalleson's hair had been been quickly combed, and his heavy face was reddened from sleep; he looked inquiringly about the tent, his eyes blinking from the light"Everything okay?" he askedHe realized suddenly that Dalleson had awakened worrying about the campaign and it amused him
"I heard the phone ringing," Dalleson said
"It was Paragon Red, negative report, that's all
"Did you record it yet?"
"No, sir
"Well, then do it, man
Hearn had recorded few reports in the Journal and he looked at the preceding one to
cheap chanel purses check on the form
Dalleson walked toward him, and examined the Journal, fingering the spring clip on the beaverboard"Let's do it more neatly next time
He'd be damned if Dalleson would lecture him like a child"I'll do my best, Major," he murmured sarcastically
Dalleson ran his thick index finger under the notation"What time is this report for?" he asked abruptly
"Then whyinhell can't you put it down like that? Goddammit, man, you've got it for 2330 to 0030Can't you even read? Don't you know what the hell time it is?"
He had even copied the time on the preceding report"Sorry," Hearn muttered, furious with himself for the error
"What else you gonna do with this report?"
"Damn if I knowThis isn't the work I've been doing
"Well, now, I'll tell you," Dalleson said with relish"If you'll get the cobwebs off your brain you'll
omega usa know that this is a Combat Report, so after you mark it in the Journal and on the map, you put it in the file for my Periodic Report, and when I'm done with it, which'll be tomorrow, you empty the file of the previous day, and put it in the Historical File, and you have one of the clerks make a copy and put it in the Journal FileNothing too hard about that for a man with a college education, is there, Hearn?"
Hearn shrugged"Since the report doesn't say anything, why go to all that bother?" He grinned, enjoying the opportunity to lash back"It doesn't make much sense to me
Dalleson was enragedHe glowered at Hearn, his jowls darkening, his mouth pressed thin by the powerful clamps of his jawsA first trickle of sweat slid past his eye and outlined his cheek"It doesn't make sense to you, eh," he repeated, "it doesn't make sense to
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