“For observation,” Winch said, calmly. “Before he sends you to the stockade.”
“Oh, no,” Landers said. “Oh, no.” He was standing, but he thought he was sitting down. So that when he put his hands behind him and pushed, and jumped up to his feet, he actually simply jumped straight up in the air and came back down on his heels. It looked peculiar, to say the least. “No, sir. Not me. You’re not going to pull any of that shit on me.”
“Well,” Winch said reasonably, “it’s either that, or off you go to the stockade immediately.”
“Not me,” Landers said. “No, sir. I’m not going to play psycho. Not for you. Not for anybody.”
“Well,” Winch said, “there’s not much to doing it.”
“I wouldn’t even know how to go about it.”
“Just act crazy,” Winch said. He was staring at him mildly. His face was wide open, receptive.
“Mayhew’s the one who’s crazy, not me,” Landers raged. “Look at the way he came into that outfit, and balled it all up. Antagonizing everybody.”
“I agree. But unfortunately we don’t have any way to handle Mayhew,” Winch said. The blandness left his face, and it knotted up. “Listen,” he hissed, “I haven’t mothered you fuckers, and babied you, all this time and all this way, for you to go and get yourself into a sure-death situation. I won’t goddam fucking put up with it. See?”
“Do you really think I could do it?” Landers said. Despite his bravado, he did not really want to ship out like that. He knew what it meant, as well as Winch. What he wanted was to creep into somebody’s arms, and be held. “You really think I could?”
“Tell them about your nightmares,” Winch said, his face calm again.
Vaguely, Landers wondered how Winch knew about that.
“Now listen,” Winch said, fast. “You go on down to your outfit. Take one of these camp cabs, outside the office here. No use in walking up, and letting them spot you a mile off. You go straight on in to your own barrack, to your own bunk. You fall out for the next formation, just like you never were away,” Winch looked at his watch, “next formation ought to be evening chow. If they don’t come for you, you fall out for evening chow. Okay?”
Before Landers could answer or even knew what was happening, Winch had him by the arm and was shooing him out. “I’m going to call Mayhew. And ask him to meet me. I’ll talk to him as best I can. I think he will agree. Okay? Now, scoot.”
“I can’t do it,” Landers said hopelessly, at the door. “I don’t know how to act crazy.” Once again he thought how impossible it was ever to know what Winch was thinking.
“Well, just try,” Winch said, looking at him. From the doorway, he watched Landers thread his way out through the desks and desks of clerks.
He went back inside and called Strange at the Peabody. He wasn’t sure Strange would be there, but after a moment Strange came on.
“I got him to go,” Winch exulted. “He’s agreed to go up to the hospital. Now I’ve got to talk fucking Mayhew into sending him.” He listened as Strange gabbled on, on the phone. “Hold it, hold it.” Strange asked an urgent question. “No, I don’t think there’s any doubt they’ll think he’s crazy. I think he’s crazy.” Suddenly Winch felt like giggling. He suddenly wanted to let his voice go deep and begin to talk gibberish, in a profound tone, to Strange on the phone. “Listen, I can’t talk now. I’ve got to call Mayhew. I’ll call you later. Will you be there?” He hung up and asked the operator to get him Mayhew at the 3516th.
In his way Winch had been preparing Mayhew for this moment. Mayhew had been belligerent, and excessively aggressive, at their first meeting. Winch had made himself stifle his own natural anger until he could get a fix on things. What he found out was that Mayhew was surprised and a little shaken that Landers would dare to go AWOL on him. Mayhew was much more concerned with what Second Army HQ would think of Mayhew. And Mayhew was more than a little impressed that the famous W/O Mart Winch would come to talk to him about it. Winch had let him run on a little bit and simmer down, then he had hit him with the story of Landers, Mayhew, and the telephone. Strange had told