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1、国外英文文学系列 Through the WheatTitle: Through the WheatAuthor: Thomas BoydIDusk, like soft blue smoke, fell with the dying spring air and settled upon the northern French village. In the uncertain light one and two story buildings set along the crooked street showed crisply, bearing a resemblance to fals
2、e teeth in an ash-old face. To young Hicks, disconsolate as he leaned against the outer wall of the French canteen, upon whose smooth white surface his body made an unseemly blot, life was worth very little.For nine interminable months William Hicks had been in France, shunted from one place to anot
3、her, acting out the odious office of the military police, working as a stevedore beside evil-odored blacks, helping to build cantonments and reservoirs for new soldiers ever arriving from the United States.And he was supposed to be a soldier. He had enlisted with at least the tacit understanding tha
4、t he was some day to fight. At the recruiting2 office in Cincinnati the bespangled sergeant had told him: “Join the marines and see some real action.” And the heart of William Hicks had fled to the rich brogue and campaign ribbons that the sergeant professionally wore.But was this action? Was this w
5、ar? Was this for what William Hicks had come to France? Well, he told himself, it was not. Soldiering with a shovel. A hell of a way to treat a white man. There were plenty of people to dig holes in the ground, but not many of them could qualify as sharpshooters. And Hicks swelled his chest a trifle
6、, noticing the glint of the metal marksmanship badge on his tunic.Resting beside him on the ground was a display of unopened food tins above which rose the slender necks of bottles. Of the bottles there were four, prisoning the white wine of the northern French vineyards. Excessive in number were th
7、e cans, and they looked as if their contents were edible. But Hicks was not sure. He had bought them from the wizened little French clerk who had regarded him with suspicion through the window of the canteen. For this suspicion, this slight hostility, Hicks did not blame the little Frenchman. He had
8、, he realized, made an ass of himself by pointing to3 ambiguously labelled cans piled on the shelves inside the canteen and saying: “la, combien?” Now he possessed a choice array of cans of whose contents he knew nothing. All that he asked was that he might be able to eat it.That morning he had marc
9、hed into the town with his tired platoon from a small deserted railway station some miles distant. Once assigned to the houses in which they were to be billeted, the men had unstrapped their blankets and fallen asleep. But not Hicks. He had explored the village with an eye to disposing of the mass o
10、f soiled and torn franc-notes which he carried in his pocket. In the French canteen he had found the place for which he was looking. And so he had stood before the clerk, demanding to buy as much of the stock as he could carry.But the clerk had closed the window, leaving Hicks with a handful of Fren
11、ch money and the tinned food and four bottles of vin blanc. Hence his disconsolation. The roll of paper felt unnatural, superfluous in his pocket. He was tempted to fling it away. In the morning the platoon would find the canteen and buy the last can, the last bottle.Restive, he ran his lean fingers
12、 through his uncombed hair, wondering vaguely whether it4 were true that his regiment was soon to depart for the front.It must be true, he decided. There had been an untoward attitude on the part of his officers since the moment that the departure of the platoon had been made known. Their destinatio
13、n had been scrupulously kept from them. In corroboration, a long-range gun boomed sullenly in the distance.The noise produced in him a not unpleasant shiver of apprehension. He met it, summoning a quiet smile of scorn. Yes, he would be glad to go to the front, to that vague place from which men retu
14、rned with their mutilated bodies. Not that he was vengeful. His feeling for the German army was desultory, a blend of kaleidoscopic emotions in which hate never entered. But in conflict, he felt, would arise a reason for his now unbearable existence.The grinning weakness which men called authority h
15、ad followed him since the day of his enlistment at the beginning of the war. It had turned thoughts of valor into horrible nightmares, the splendor of achievement into debased bickering. Most of the men, it seemed to him, had not entered the army to further the accomplishment of a common motive; the
16、y had5 enlisted or had been made officers and gentlemenCongress had generously made itself the cultural father of officersfor the purpose of aiding their personal ambitions.It had darkened. Hicks gathered up his sorry feast and sauntered off through the shaking, mysterious shadows to his pallet of s
17、traw.Stretched out upon individual beds of straw which had been strewn over the stone floor, the members of the platoon were lying before a huge fireplace that drew badly in the early spring wind. In all of their nine months in France this was the first time that they had thus lain, not knowing what
18、 was to come on the following day, nor caring, being only satisfied by the warmth which came from the fireplace, by their sense of feeling intact and comfortable.In this sense of reconciliation John Pugh, the Mississippi gambler, forgot his everlasting dice-throwing, which every pay-day that the pla
19、toon had thus far known had won for him more money than his company commander received from the United States Government.He sighed, elongating his limbs beneath his blanket. He made an effort to rise, and succeeded6 in resting the weight of his torso on his arm which he had crooked under him. Cautio
20、usly he felt for a cigarette beneath his tunic, which he was using for a pillow. He got the cigarette and a match, then held them in his hand, hesitant.His eyes, large and dolorous, searched the dimly lighted room, scanning the recumbent figures to discover whether they were asleep. Men were lying,
21、their shoes beside their heads, their army packs, rifles, leaning against the wall and the remainder of their equipment scattered near by. They were silent, motionless.“I guess I can risk it,” thought Pugh, and he carefully struck the match and lighted his cigarette.As the match was rubbed over the
22、floor heads appeared; the stillness was broken.“Oh, Jack, thought you didnt have any more cigarettes.”“You got fifty francs offa me last month. I think you ought to give me a smoke!” The voice was reproachful.Effectually and instantly Pugh checked the avalanche of reproach:“Hey, you fellas, theres b
23、eaucoup mail up at regimental headquahtas.”7The clumsy shadows in the darkened room answered:“Aw bunk.”“Cut out that crap.”“How do you get that way, Jack? You know there aint no mail up at regimental.”“Well,” Pugh sighed, “if you all don wanna heah fm your mammy I don give a damn. Oh-o. What you all
24、 got, Hicks?”Hicks had arrived at his billet, his arms filled with the bottles of wine and the cans of the questionable contents.Candles were lighted and set on the helmets of the men. Bodies rose to a sitting posture, eyes on Hicks.“Gimme a drink, Hicksy!”“Hooray, look what Hickss got.”“Yeh, gimme
25、a drink.”The voices were clamorous.“Gimme, gimme? Was your mouth bored out with a gimlet,” Hicks jeered. “Why didnt you buy some?”They formed a semicircle around the fireplace in front of which Hicks sat with his plunder.Over the bottles they grew noisily talkative.“Say, have you fellows seen any of
26、 these8 new guys here?” asked Hicks. “I was walkin down one of the streets by the Frog canteen and one of em asked me if I was in the balloon corps. I told him yes, and asked him how he guessed it, and he said, Oh, I saw that balloon on your cap.”“They sure are a bunch of funny birds. I ast one of e
27、m how long hed been over on this side and he said: About three weeksseen anybody thats come over lately?”A contingent of soldiers which had arrived in the village that afternoon were, therefore, objects of scorn and hostility.“Aw, theyre some of them fellahs that the wind blew in. Pretty soon theyll
28、 have the home guards over here.”“They will like hell! If you could git them home guards away from home youd sure have to hump. Theyre home guardsthey guard our women while were over here.” The speaker seemed afraid that his listeners would not understand that he was stressing the word home.“Yeh, th
29、eys one of em guardin my gal too close. I got a lettah.”“Youre lucky to get any kind of a letter. Here I been for three months and not a word.9 I dont know whether they all died or what,” Hicks ended gloomily.“Aw cheer up, Hicksy, old boy. Maybe your mail was on that transport that got sunk.”A head
30、was thrust in the door. It was the first sergeant.“Pipe down, you damned recruits. Lights are supposed to be out at eight oclock. If you guys want to git work detail for the rest of your lives”“All right, you dirty German spy. Git the hell out of here and let us sleep.”All of the candles had been pu
31、t out as soon as the voice of the first sergeant was heard. The men had flung themselves on their beds. Now each one pretended to be asleep.“Who said that?” The first sergeant was furious. “Ill work you birds till your shoes fall off.”The room answered with loud and affected snores. The first sergea
32、nt, in all of his fierceness, disappeared.IIIt was morning.Sergeant Kerfoot Harriman, bearing with proud satisfaction the learning and culture he had acquired in the course of three years at a small Middle-Western university, walked down the Rue de Dieu in a manner which carried the suggestion that
33、he had forgotten the belt of his breeches.Approaching a white two-story stone building which age and an occasional long-distance German shell had given an air of solemn decrepitude, Sergeant Harriman unbent enough to shout stiltedly: “Mailo! Mailo-ho!”His reiterated announcement was unnecessary. Alr
34、eady half-dressed soldiers were rushing through the entrance of the building and toward the approaching sergeant.“All right, you men. If you cant appear in uniform get off of the company street.” Sergeant Harriman was commanding.In their eagerness to hear the list of names called out the men forgot
35、even to grumble, but scrambled back through the doorway overflowing the long hall off of which were six rooms,11 devoid of furniture, which had been converted into barracks.Sergeant Harriman, feeling the entire amount of pleasure to be had from the added importance of distributing the mailthe first
36、the platoon had received in two monthscleared his throat, took a steadfast position and gave his attention to the small bundle of letters which he held in his hand.He deftly riffled them twice without speaking. Then he separated the letters belonging to the non-commissioned officers, the corporals,
37、and sergeants from those addressed to the privates. The non-commissioned officers received their letters first.At last:“Private Hicks,” he read off.“Here, here I am. Back here.” Private Hicks was all aflutter. Separated from the letter by a crowd of men, he stood on tiptoe and reached his arm far ov
38、er the shoulder of the man in front of him.“Pass it back to him? Pass it back to him?” voices impatiently asked.“No!” Sergeant Harriman was a commander, every inch of him. “Come up and get it, Hicks.”12“Hey, snap out of it, will ya! Call off the rest of the names.”A path was made, and Hicks finally
39、received the letter.Harriman looked up. “If you men dont shut up, you will never get your mail!”“Private Pugh!”“Hee-ah. Gimme that lettah. Thats fm mah sweet mammah.” Pugh wormed his small, skinny body through the men, fretfully calling at those who did not make way quickly enough. He grasped the le
40、tter. Then he started back, putting the letter in his pocket unopened.“Poor old Pugh. Gets a letter and he cant read.”“Aint that a waste of stationery?”“Why dont you ask the captain to write an tell your folks not to send you any more mail? Look at all the trouble you cause these mail clerks.”Severa
41、l men offered to read the letter to Pugh, but he did not answer.An hour later the first sergeant was walking up and down in front of the billets, blowing his whistle. Bugle-calls were taboo.“Shake it up, you men. Dont you know13 youre supposed to be ready for drill at nine oclock?”“Drill! I thought
42、we come up here to fight,” voices grumbled, muttering obscene phrases directed at General Pershing, the company commander, and the first sergeant.Men scurried out of their billets, struggling to get on their packs and to fall in line before the roll was called.“Fall in!” the little sergeant shouted,
43、 standing before the platoon. “Right dress!” he commanded sharply and ran to the right of the platoon, from where he told one man to draw in his waist and another to move his feet, and so on, until he was satisfied that the line was reasonably straight. “Steady, front!” And in a very military manner
44、 he placed himself in the proper place before the company and began to call the roll.“All present or accounted for, sir,” he reported to the captain, a note of pride and of a great deed nobly done ringing in his voice.The sergeants fell back in rear of the platoons and the commander ordered “squads
45、right.” The hobnailed boots of the men on the cobblestones echoed hollowly down the street.Stupid-looking old Frenchmen, a few thick-waisted14 women, and a scattering of ragged children dully watched the company march down the street. For the most part they were living in the advance area because th
46、ey had no other place to go and because they feared to leave the only homes that they had ever known.The platoon marched out of the town along a gravel road and into a green, evenly plotted field, where they were deployed and where, to their surprise, a number of sacks, filled with straw, had been h
47、ung from a row of scaffolding.The platoon faced the sacks, were man?uvred so that each man would be standing in front of one of the dummies and were ordered to fix bayonets. Sergeant Harriman, the nostrils of his stubby nose flaring wide with zeal, began his instructions.“All right, you men. Now you
48、 want to forget that these are sacks of straw. They are not at all. They are dirty HunsHuns that raped the Belgians, Huns that would have come over to the good old U. S. A. and raped our women if we hadnt got into the war. Now, men, I want to see some action, I want to see some hate when you stick these dirty Huns. I want to see how hard you can grunt.”15“All ready now. Straight thrust. One, two, threenow”As a b