LEO E. LITWAK
baritone voice whose tone was more convincing than any good argu–
ment. When he took over drill we marched for him. He was aimed
for Officer Candidate School after basic training. He was a gentle–
man private who condescended to noncoms. Dewey Carrol scraped
low for Witty, recognizing future brass and preparing the ground
for handouts. Witty meant to rise and he kept the men in line. He
didn't want screwups in any outfit he was in. Anyone who lagged in
preparing for inspection got reamed by Witty. He looked like a
fighter. He had clever hands. I admired Witty even though he steered
shy of me. He was disgusted, I suppose, by my fumbling. Perhaps he
didn't want anyone to confuse us. He wanted it made clear that he
was a different sort of collegian.
I wasn't liked. That I knew. I didn't know how much until one
day, after a speed march, we lined up naked in the latrine, waiting
a tum at the shower room. Nine miles in two hours, up a dirt road,
one hundred degrees of a naked sun, every man lobster red, first
striding in cadence, then jogging, beginning to gasp early in the game,
wobbling under the burden of full packs, trailed by an ambulance
that inched up on stragglers and accumulated the fallen. I pushed
for my shower, grumbling like the rest, but pleased to have out–
suffered the whole lot. We called to those already in the shower to
hurry it up. Joe Witty, about to enter the shower room, heard only
my voice and it triggered his revulsion.
"Step in here and I'll kick the shit out of you."
I followed him into the shower room.
It
was steamy. We slid
along duckboards. Witty shoved me against the wall and hauled
back. Then he dropped his fist.
"Why get in trouble over you?"
He said
you
as though I were vermin. When he hauled back
to slug me my arms were numb at my sides. I stayed in the shower
room after he left. None of the boys looked at me. When I came
out Witty was drying himself with a khaki towel.
"Let's go behind the barracks, Witty."
"I'm not getting in trouble over you." He again said
you
in that
contemptuous tone.
"You pushed me."
He left the latrine. "He won't fight," I said, but no one was
interested in my side of the argument.
