Chapter 58 Chapter 58

At three o'clock in the morning, Victor Henry sat on the grass behind the Manila Navy and Army Club, listening to the broadcast of a football game eleven thousand miles away, and a feeling of wasted years haunted him.Overhead Orion brilliantly adorned half the sky, as it always did on Army and Navy football game nights.On the outskirts of Moscow, the constellation also shines brilliantly on the highway, but sinks more toward the southern horizon. Sitting with Pug on the grass was a group of naval and military officers and their few Filipino girlfriends; their wives had long since been deported.All around were the familiar smells of the Army and Navy nights—the smell of freshly cut grass, frangipani, rum and women's perfume mixed with the stench of harbor water—and paper lanterns, and the heat, even in a cotton shirt. The feeling of sweating in the trousers and slacks, the jokes and insults between the troops, all of which made him mentally return to twelve years ago.It's amazing how little life has changed in Manila.The overworked and nervous embassy staff in Tokyo had long speculated that the navy and army football games would probably not be held again; the Japanese might launch a war before Thanksgiving, at least the U.S. military would enter full combat readiness.But now, the old wooden board where the ball game was played still stood there, and on it was an inflated white football, tied to a rope, which could slide around on the football field painted on the wooden board.Every team has a mascot—the Army is a mule with a brown blanket on its back; the Navy is a goat with a blue blanket—and it's tethered there, waiting for the funny. time.It was sleepy 1928, thought Pug.Only the overnight repair work at Cavite Naval Base, with powerful lights illuminating the bay, reminded one that it was November 1941, and the Navy was a little more active in response to an emergency.

The roar of the loudspeakers drowned out the conversation on the grass, and the radio was louder tonight than it had been in years.The game still had for Pug the ritual charm of old; he listened nervously to the game while he smoked his cigar.Pug once had a very strong nostalgia for the past on the court: young athletes competing on the grass, bumping each other, showing off their skillful skills, especially at some rare moments, breaking through the encirclement and galloping on the court, dodging one after another People could hear the tsunami-like cheers from the surrounding stands.He had never felt the same way in his life.But long ago, his nostalgia for the past has disappeared; the memory of the past has also faded.The thought of boys much younger than his own sons currently running across the cold fields of Philadelphia made Victor Henry feel as if he had lived a very long and troubled life and was now almost like a dead body.

"Pug! I hear you're coming." A hand patted him lightly on the shoulder.His classmate Walter Tully, bald as an egg and tanned, smiled at him; Tully had left submarine school to command a submarine squadron in Manila."Sit with us," he gestured to a packed table next to the program board. "Wait until the first half is over, Rhett." Even though nicknames are out of fashion, everyone still calls them that way. "It's nice to sit on the grass; it's like the old days." "You're quite right. Well, I'll stay with you." "Excellent. Sit down."

Tully, who had also played rugby at college, was as engrossed in the broadcast as Pug.Moments later, the white football slid all the way to Navy's goal line, and Army scored from the bottom line.Amidst shouts, cheers, and sighs, a young lieutenant let go of the mule's reins, jumped onto the mule's back, and galloped around the grass. "Ah! Damn it!" cried Pug. Tully shook his head. "Old man, we're going to lose this game, they've got a strong back. We should bring up Pug Henry." "Hey! Foul, fifteen yards. You're a real Simon Wrigley, Rhett, aren't you?"

①A cruel slave trader in the novel "Uncle Tom's Cabin" by the American writer Mrs. Stowe (1811-1896). "What do you mean by that?" "I mean, on the night of the Army-Navy Games, you actually sent the submarine 'Squid' to sea exercises. What's the matter, do you think there's going to be a danger of war or something?" Tully grinned at the sarcasm in his tone and said, "It was Blanche Huban's idea. Starting today, they're going to be on shore. For two weeks--they were due to arrive at noon--he had a drill.You have plenty of time to see Byron. "

"I'm only here until the plane takes off." "Yeah, I hear you're commanding the California. That's great, Pug." The game continued.After some tedious sporadic fighting, the white ball shot like an arrow from one side of the board to the other; it turned out that the navy had intercepted the opponent's ball and carried it deep into the army's position.Pug and Tully sprang to their feet, shouting with the Marines, "Beat the Army! Goal! Goal!" as an ensign happily led the goat around the field.Just after scoring from the baseline, the first half was over.Rhett Tully asked a passing waiter for some drinks and said, "Pug, let's just sit here on the grass. Tell me about Russia."

Victor Henry described the tank battles he had seen and the panic in Moscow on October 16, and Tully's cheerful smile changed to a serious one. "Damn it, you got there! I envy you. We're sitting here, fattened, and foolishly having a good time. They tell me you flew in here through Tokyo. " "good." "Any solid news, Pug? Are those goddam bastards really going to war? We get dire alarms here, but we're a little paralyzed right now." "Well, we were all worried there. The ambassador told me in detail about the psychology of the Japanese. He said they were a strange people. Seppuku is a way of life for them. Win or lose is for them It didn't matter. They dared to carry out a suicidal plan suddenly, and he was afraid they could do it."

Tully glanced at the nearby couples sitting on the grass or on the camp chairs, lowered his voice, and said, "That's the right caliber. Admiral Pug, Admiral Hart received a call today. Urgent announcements of impending war. But throughout the summer and into the fall we heard now and then frightening rumors from Washington. In July they landed in Indochina, and Roosevelt cut off their oil supplies, when We all thought, let's do it! Submarine squadrons go into readiness at dawn and dusk for a week, and at the end it's too shameful for me. Do I have to do it all over again?"

Pug spread his hands together in bewilderment. "Look, I was at an embassy banquet one night talking to some industrialists, some Americans and some British, and a big Japanese shipyard owner. Listen to it: War with the United States is unthinkable. Everyone here agrees with him. So—just pay, choose what you want.” "Yeah, all I know is that if they did, we'd be in trouble. The readiness of the Philippines is horribly bad. The people don't want to fight the Japanese. That's my opinion. Subs have everything The lack—torpedoes, spare parts, watch officers, etc.—is pathetic. Speaking of which—when was the last time you saw Byron?” About six months ago, I think.What's the matter? "

"Oh, he's so damn self-righteous! He walked into my office one day and asked for his transfer to Atlantic Command, and his own captain turned him down. Byron was going to jump the ranks and apply. Of course I ruthless Scolded him hard, Pug, and I told him--I told him that without changing a word--if he hadn't been your son, I'd have kicked him out of the office .” Victor Henry forced his composure and said, “His wife and children are in Italy. He is very worried about them.” "We're all separated from our kin, Pug. It's not just that he can't move his job. Right now I'm planning to pick a submarine force from supply ships and destroyers."

officer.For your son, as long as it is reasonable, I am willing to do anything, but—" "Don't say that. Byron's just another officer. If you can't do it, forget it." "Yes, I'm glad you said that." "But his family problems are really serious. If possible, give him a transfer." "Besides, there is the little problem of the Japanese." "Of course." Victor Henry tried his best to sound relaxed and kind.At this moment, the audience shouted from the loudspeaker, and he said with a sigh of relief: "Okay! The second half begins." At the end of the game, many people were lying sprawled on the grass, with a gray sky tinged with red light overhead.Waiters in white coats were still delivering drinks, and huddled naval officers were singing "The Anchor Song" as their teams won.Colonel Tully asked Pug to have breakfast, but Pug declined, then went to his room to take a nap. ① "Anchor Lifting Song" is the US Navy military song. Before Rhoda brought the children here to start a family, when he first reported to Manila, he lived in such a room, maybe in the same room.The room was dirty and dusty, with high ceilings, unseemly old furniture from an ordinary club, and a whirring electric fan that was always on, and this room gave Pug time and age again. A strong feeling of wasting.He turned the electric fan up a little, stripped down to a pair of shorts, opened the French windows overlooking the bay, sat down to smoke one cigarette after another, and looked at the gradually revealed sky over the wide blue harbor. Dawn and the hustle and bustle of ships.He didn't want to sleep, and sat almost motionless for more than an hour, sweat dripping down his naked skin.What is he thinking? He recalled all kinds of past memories after returning to Manila.I thought of the scene where he and Byron were learning French verbs under the phoenix tree next to the white house on Harrison Avenue; the son's thin face was wrinkled, and silent tears fell under his father's roar.He remembered that Warren had won medals in history and English and baseball in high school.He thought of Madeleine celebrating her eighth birthday wearing a golden paper crown and fairy-like white gown. He thought of how Rhoda babbled about the heat and the boredom of life, got drunk every night in this club, and once fell on his face at the Christmas ball; It was only when she spoke coldly about the divorce that she quit drinking.The smell of the grass and halls of the club and the fragrant air of Manila made him hallucinate, as if all this was happening before his eyes, and not what happened more than ten years ago. He thought again of Pamela Tudsbury in Red Square.Thinking of how desolate and muddy the streets of Kuibyshev were, of playing cards all night, of visiting farms, of how time seemed to stand still while waiting for train tickets; and then of the two-week trans-Siberian train journey; Beautiful Siberian girls selling fruit, flatbread, salami and hot chickpeas in a small wooden station; the monorail stretches back from the last carriage like a straight black line through the snowy pink desert. A sunset as flat as a football on the horizon; long-term parking, wooden chairs in the "hard-seat" car; the smell of green onions in the mouth and body odor of local passengers, some of whom are Caucasian and some are The Mongols, all wearing weird fur hats; the spooky big forest that took three days to see at the end; Hate for you, their poverty and war weariness surpassed even Berlin; and finally the letters to Pamela Tudsbury he drafted and tore up. Victor Henry, recalling these strange pasts, maintained a cheerful mood, as if he were advancing towards a new life; his past life had been almost hopeless; his real life dragged on, Delayed, almost lost, but now in my grasp.Whenever he thought of Rhoda, it was usually the lively Washington girl he had courted.He knew why he fell in love with that girl and married her, but whenever he thought of Rhoda today, his heart would always be cold, as if she was someone else's wife, even though he could see all her flaws and charms. so clear.But divorcing her was cruel and terrible.Where did she offend him?She had led him to a dull, half-empty life--he knew it now--but she had done the best she could.Should he be kind to Rhoda, or should he seize his new life?Obviously he had to decide between the two. He had written several letters to Pamela, as he had written one about the Minsk massacre—just to put the problem on paper so that it could be read.When he got to Tokyo he decided that letters were too long to write and delivery too slow, so he had to choose between two telegrams to send--come, or don't.That's all Pamela needs.He decided that Pamela was wiser than he was; the first step, of course, was to make love, to test the degree of their love and infatuation before Rhoda was harmed; for they might never reach the point of marriage.To put it bluntly, the solution is cohabitation.Victor Henry had to confront the new idea—new to him—that, in some cases, cohabitation might be the best of several difficult solutions. In Tokyo, he really hesitated outside the telegraph office and almost sent the telegram.But he finally walked away.Even if it were the best solution, he couldn't imagine himself carrying it out satisfactorily; he couldn't imagine engaging in such a sneaky business, though it wouldn't feel nasty or immoral with Pamela.This is not his style.He felt he would screw things up, belittle or tarnish his job as the new captain of the USS California.So he was still undecided when he came to Manila. It was only in Manila that he became aware of his wife Rhoda for the first time since talking to Pamela Tudsbury in Red Square, and the image of the real Pamela began to fade.Manila is filled with memories of Rhoda—good and bad—and memories of his own.Rhett Tully, a classmate of his, is now the bald commander of all the submarines in the Asiatic Fleet; the Army-Navy rugby game he last attended was twenty-eight years ago, when Pamela was only a few months old a dozen young navy captains sitting on the club green with girlfriends the age of Pamela—these were immediate realities.The desolate landscape of Siberia is now only a vague image in my mind.The same goes for a scorching half hour on Red Square. Is it really possible for him to start life again?A newborn baby babbling, a boy playing in the grass, and a little girl with her arms around his neck?Manila especially made Pug miss the joy his sons and daughters gave him.He recalled that period as the sweetest, best day of his life.To live this life again with Pamela was a resurrection, a real second life.But could a blunt, eccentric man like him do it?In his thirties, he was very strict with his children. He was so tired that he finally fell asleep in the chair, just as he had in his room at the Tudsbury at the National Hotel.But this time the cold fingers that didn't touch him lightly woke him up.His seldom-false internal clock woke him up just in time, and he drove to Cavite to watch the Squid come into port. Byron was standing on the forecastle with the break-down team, in khakis and lifejackets, but Pug didn't recognize him.When the Squid was approaching the pier, Byron yelled, "Oh! Isn't that my dad? It's you, Dad! Dad!" Pug noticed that the hand was in the back pocket of his trousers. He was familiar with the standing posture of the slender figure, and his son's voice came from a thin face with a curly red beard.The boat was still coming in crookedly, and Byron jumped onto the pier all at once, stretched out his arms around Victor Henry's neck, and hugged him tightly.Pug kissed the messy, shaggy face with a strange feeling in his heart. "Hey, Byron, why do you have so much beard?" "Captain Huban hates beards the most. But I'm going to let them grow to my knees. God, that's a complete surprise, Dad," an officer on the bridge called impatiently through the loudspeaker.Byron hopped back onto the moving forecastle like a goat, and shouted to his father, "I'm going to be with you all day today. you are together.Hey, Mama wrote to tell me you're commanding the 'California'!It's unbelievable! " The submarine landed, and the officers of the "Squid" warmly invited Victor Henry to a house they rented in the suburbs for a quick meal.Seeing the displeasure on Byron's face, Pug politely declined. "I live on the submarine," Byron said.They drove back to Manila in the gray navy car that Pug had borrowed from the utility yard. "I don't live with them." "Why don't you live there? Sounds like a nice place." "Oh, it's pretty good. Cook, steward, two servants; gardener, five acres, and a swimming pool, and it doesn't cost much to share. I dined there, you know, There's some girls who spend the night with them--girls of all kinds, secretaries, nurses, and so on--going around there." "Is it? I suppose it's the nature of young people." "Dad, what do you do when Mom is not around?" "Did you think I'd tell you?" Pug glanced at Byron.The bearded face was serious. "Well, I've just had a rough time, Braney. But you can do whatever you want, just don't act like you're holier than anyone else!" "I don't feel sacred. My wife is in Italy. That's it. They can do whatever they want. "Do you know the latest news about her?" "She's flying to Lisbon on the fifteenth of this month. I've got a picture of the kid. I'll show you later! It's odd, he looks so much like my childhood picture." Pug had been admiring the photograph in his wallet for two months, but he decided not to mention it.There is an inscription to Sloter on the photo, which is always a little awkward to mention. "It's sad to be so far away," Byron lamented. "Dad, can you imagine? Your wife is on the other side of the world with a doll you've never even seen before—no phone, a letter you get by chance. It's not human. days. Worst of all, she almost made it out of Switzerland. But she was afraid of taking the German plane. She was sick and alone, and I couldn't blame her. If there was any other way, at this moment she It's time to get home. The Germans! The goddamn Germans." After a moment's silence, he was at a loss for words in a coy way: "It's hot in here, isn't it?" "I've forgotten how hot it is, Blaney." "I think Russia is very cold." "Well, it's freezing in Tokyo too." "Tell me, what's Tokyo like? Quaint, beautiful, and more, isn't it?" "That's the ugliest city in the world," said Pug, happy to be off topic. "It's pathetic. A drab city of shanty towns stretching out as far as the eye can see. The downtown area has a few tall modern buildings and neon signs, and groups of little Japanese come and go .Most people wear suits, but the material looks like old blotting paper. One can see a few women dressed like Japanese dolls and some temples and pagodas like in San Francisco's Chinatown. The city is not Not particularly oriental, it's rundown, dirty, and stinks of sewage and rotten fish from one end of the city to the other. In all my years of travel, Tokyo has disappointed me the most. Also, Japan The depth of human hatred of the white race can be felt at any time." "Do you think they're going to start a war?" "Well, that's a big problem," Victor Henry tapped his finger on the steering wheel. "I have a book on their gods, you'd better read it. It's an eye-opening book, given to me by the ambassador. Blaney, the people here actually believe in the twentieth century—at least some People believe it—their king is the descendant of the sun god, and their empire goes back 2,600 years. It is said that before the separation of the five continents, Japan was the highest point on the earth. So she is the center of the world, Holy nation, her mission is to conquer all other countries to ensure world peace. You are laughing, boy, you better read this book. Just like Nazi and communist propaganda, they come through religious bullshit Propagating such an idea means that a nation is destined to take over the whole world by force. Why this idea splits into various forms and continues to spread, only God knows. It is like a kind of spiritual leprosy. Hey, are you hungry? Let's take a tour of our former home before we eat." Against the backdrop of his neatly trimmed red beard, Byron's smile was eccentric but still lovely. "Why, really, Dad, I've never been. I don't know why." As they drove down Harrison Avenue, Byron yelled, "My God, is that the house? Someone has moved in and painted it yellow." "That's the house," said Pug.He parked the car across the street, and the father and son got out of the car.He was also surprised by the unpleasant mustard color.The low stone walls, the iron fence, and the house were all painted that color; the old paint, faded by the sun, was peeling off.On the grass lay an overturned tricycle, a large red leather ball, a buggy and some plastic toys. "Look, the trees are much taller and denser than they used to be," said Byron, peering through the fence, "but the house seems to have shrunk. See, that's where Warren threw the can of red paint on me .Can you see it now? There's still a mark there." Byron wiped the red spots that had faded on the pavement with his shoe. "I've had a hard time here in general. Warren smashed my head off, and I hated him—" "Yes, and that truck hit your bicycle. I don't think you'll have a good time thinking about it, too." Byron pointed. "When you taught me to read, we used to sit there, under that tree. Remember, Pa? Look how big that tree is now!" "Oh, do you remember that? I don't think it would be a pleasant memory either." "Why not happy? I didn't go to school well. You have to make up for me!" "But I'm a lousy teacher. Maybe your mother should take on the job. But in the morning she likes to sleep in, and in the afternoon, she's either shopping or combing her hair at home, you know, or getting dressed up to go to school." What a party. I used to lose my temper back then, and I should apologize to you." Byron narrowed his eyes and glanced at his father strangely, scratched his beard, and said, "I don't care." "Sometimes you cry. But you didn't cry when you got hit by a truck. You never cry for pain." "Well, I'm afraid when you're angry and angry in your voice. But that's nothing. I'd love to learn from you. I know you." "You finally got good grades that year." "I've never had a score like that." The father and son stopped talking, and they looked in from outside the fence for a few minutes. "Well, we've seen the place," said Pug. "How about going to eat now?" "You know what?" Byron was still staring at the house. "Aside from the three days I spent with Natalie in Lisbon, I spent the happiest days of my life here. I love this house." "The navy is the hardest thing to be in the military," Pug said. "You'll never take root. The whole family is like duckweed." When the Army and Navy Club serves wild apple cocktails, it still serves a soft red juice served in a tall glass, with a meaningless green leaf stuck to the wild apple flesh.The roast beef in the steam cabinet was only lukewarm and overcooked, like it was done in 1928.Even the faces of the people who ate were the same as they had been—except Byron.Where once he had been a skinny boy who ate exasperatingly slowly, he was now a tall young man with a beard.But he still ate too slowly; it was Pug who finished the meat first, though he was the one talking almost all the time. He wanted to find out a little about Pamela and Jochenan Jastrow from Byron.He told how Jastrow broke into Sloter's Moscow apartment, and how he reappeared like a ghost in the Spazzo building in a snowstorm.But as soon as he mentioned Tudsbury's refusal to use the Minsk documents and suspected that Jastrow might be a spy for the Soviet Ministry of Internal Affairs, Byron became angry. "What? Is he really like that? Why, if he's not a hypocrite, he must be a fool! God knows, he's true when he says people don't want to help the Jews. Hitler's used that for years to paralyze the world. But Anyone who talks to Ben Real for five minutes will see that he's a great man. An honest, respectable man." "Do you believe the legends about the Holocaust?" "Why don't you believe it? Can't the Germans do it? As long as Hitler gives an order, such a thing will happen." "I'm not so sure myself, Byron, but I'm sending the President a report on the matter." Byron opened his mouth wide and stared, then whispered in a tone of disbelief. "Dad, what did you do?" "Well, those documents were seen as forged, and were set aside at the embassy. I think those documents should be studied further.It was spur of the moment - maybe stupid - but I did it. " Byron Henry reached out, took his father's hand, and squeezed it tightly.The bearded face was glowing with enthusiasm. "All I can say is, well done." "No. I believe it's a useless move, and those things can never be done right. But that's in the past. By the way, have you ever seen Tudsbury's daughter? Natalie at I mentioned meeting her at the airport in Rome." "You mean Pamela? I saw her in Washington. What's the matter?" "Well, the Tudsburys have traveled with me in war zones. I think she's a very brave and hardworking girl. She's had a lot of trouble, but she's always been kind and clean. She Never complain, never nag." "Well, according to Natalie, Pam Tudsbury was born to suffer. They're not too much alike in that respect. But they certainly are in other ways. Natalie told me a lot about her. In Paris, Pamela was a wild woman." "Really?" "Really, she had a Hemingwayian boyfriend who used to live in an apartment with Leslie Slote. She was with this guy and it was the whole Guy Barry mess. And then he lost After getting off her, she's going crazy. Dad, I really want to have some snacks, would you like some?" "Of course." Victor Henry couldn't help but insisted on asking. "What—crazy?" "Oh, can you imagine? Fucking with people, trying to drink up all the wine in Paris, driving like a madman. She drove around a tree outside Marseilles and almost lost her The French writer she was with was killed. What's the matter? You sound annoyed." "That's an annoying story to hear. She looks like a nice girl. I'll be here for a week," said Pug suddenly, "unless the flight is rescheduled. Can we play tennis?" "Of course. But I can't play well anymore, not like in Berlin." "me too." To beat the heat, they played tennis early in the morning and ate breakfast together after showering.Victor Henry didn't mention Pamela anymore.At night, lying awake in the sweltering darkness under the whirring fan, he tried every means to bring up the subject again.But in front of his son at breakfast, he couldn't speak again.He guessed Byron would be thinking of what kind of affair his serious father had had with Pamela Tudsbury.The lad would have thought it purely middle-aged indecency--unnatural, unseemly, pathetic.Now even Victor Henry himself sometimes sees it that way. One day, Lieutenant Colonel Huban persuaded him to go to the house in Bassa to have lunch together.Byron stubbornly refused to go with him.Pug took a long swim in the pool surrounded by flowering trees and ate a good meal of curry; after his nap he beat Captain Esther at tennis.This afternoon was very satisfying.Before he left, Huban and Esther talked confidently of Byron over rum on the balcony facing the garden.Both thought Byron was a natural submarine officer; they said he seemed to lack only military quality.Byron admitted his faults of disobedience and laziness, and frankly stated that as long as he served on the "Squid" submarine, he never wanted to correct them.He was obsessed with the idea of ​​being transferred to the Atlantic, but Huban patiently pointed out to his father that this was impossible.There was no officer to replace him in Manila; the Yacht Squadron was far short of the establishment; the "Squid" could not go to sea without an officer on duty.Byron could only make up his mind to make the "Squid" his own battleship.Victor Henry brought up the subject when he thought it appropriate - just before breakfast the next morning, when they were drinking coffee on the grass after playing tennis and showering.The other day, Byron was in high spirits over his morning coffee.Pug said, as casually as possible, "By the way, Byron, was the last time you said Natalie flew to Lisbon on—the fifteenth of this month?" "Yes, number fifteen." "Do you think she can succeed this time?" "For God's sake, yes, it's best she succeeds! They've got every possible official guarantee and the highest priority." "Okay, the 15th is not that long away, is it? Your application for a job transfer—" Victor hesitated, because Byron had a very familiar expression on his face: slow anger, Dazed, aloof and withdrawn. "Can you put this matter aside, at least until the fifteenth?" "Put it down? Don't worry, it's already been put on hold. My application has been rejected by Huban, Tully and Admiral Hart's personnel officers. What do you want from me?" "I mean Braney in your own mind." "Look, I've been assuming she's going to come home with the baby. Or maybe I'll be a deserter and get her out myself. But I still want to move jobs. I want to see them. I want to stay Beside them. I've never seen my own son. I've only been with her a total of three days since we got married." "But there's another side to that. Your squadron is in dire need of an officer of the watch, we're on war alert, and—" 拜伦打断了他的话。“瞧，你这是什么意思呢，爸爸？我并没有请求你到塔利那儿去，利用你对他的影响，是不是？” “你没有这样做我确实很高兴。瑞德•塔利不能做出办不到的事儿，拜伦。他采取通融办法，让你在五月间进了潜艇学校，但那是另一回事——” 拜伦又打断他说：“老天爷，你说得不错，为了这个我要永远感激你们两个。这就是我的儿子出生在意大利的缘故，这也就是我和我的妻子被广大世界隔开的缘故。” “我们最好还是不谈这个话题吧，”维克多•亨利说。 “这倒是个好主意，爸爸。” 拜伦在吃火腿鸡蛋时又变得亲切起来，但是维克多•亨利觉得，在这次短短的令人失望的交换意见中间，他已经失去这几天来好容易赢得的他儿子对他的好感了。 可是第二天，拜伦把他爸爸送上飞剪型客机的时候，他又变得非常亲切了。在飞机码头上，他伸出胳膊去搂着帕格。拜伦的胡子触痒了他的嘴唇，帕格情不自禁地说：“娜塔丽会喜欢这么一大把胡子吗？”听到拜伦放声大笑，帕格觉得很高兴。拜伦说：“别着急。我离开'乌贼号'潜艇那一天，这把胡子就剃掉了。” “那很好，我猜想是这样，拜伦。” “浮萍被风吹散啦。” “说得一点不错，浮萍被风吹散啦。” “嗯，反正几天以后你就要见到华伦和杰妮丝了。真叫人高兴。替我向他们问好。”扩音喇叭呼唤乘客登上那架巨大的飞船。维克多•亨利看着他儿子的眼睛，好容易才说出一句：“瞧，我在替娜塔丽和你的孩子祈祷。” 拜伦的眼睛眨也不眨，他的目光深不可测。“我肯定你是会这样做的，爸爸，谢谢你。” 当飞剪型客机转动螺旋桨渐渐起飞的时候，他依旧站在飞机码头上呆呆地望着，两只手插在裤子后面的口袋里。在那个时刻，日本的舰队正在驶往夏威夷途中。 七百多英里长的一连串火山岩构成的、把日本跟西伯利亚松散地连接在一起的千岛群岛，成了一个良好的秘密集合地。日本的六艘航空母舰会合在白雪铺顶的黑色峭壁中间，掩蔽在烈风和长久的霜冻下成长的盘根错节的树木之下。六艘航空母舰上的飞行员们在雨雪中练习往浅水里投掷鱼雷的技术。战列舰、巡洋舰、驱逐舰、油船和补给舰也在源源开入。除了船上的官兵和几个日本领袖以外，没有人知道这批集合起来的舰队。当战舰向东出发的时候，只有几个舰队指挥官知道他们是往哪儿去以及为什么去。 他们没有预定进攻的日子或时辰。他们也不能确信袭击一定会发动。舰队正在前进，以防华盛顿谈判破裂。日本的和平使节正在想方设法搞一个“妥协办法”，一种“生活方式”，一个在炮弹射出之前的太平洋停火协定。日本的“妥协办法”是要求美国恢复运送石油和废铁，承认日本统治东亚和把中国变成殖民地的权利。如果美国人答应这一切，舰队一接到信号就往回开。 但是美国的“妥协办法”却要求日本人放弃对华战争，退出东南亚大陆，以换取正常的经济关系。日本领袖们早已决定，如果这是美国人最后的不能更改的决定，那么他们就要开战。在那种情况下，就要按照原来的计划，一接到信号就同时发动大规模进攻，这次进攻将象满天红光那样突然照亮南太平洋，进攻时间将紧扣在一个不能更改的指定时辰：对夏威夷进行空中突袭的时辰。 白种人在南太平洋的三个坚强据点是珍珠港、马尼拉和新加坡。日本的计划是从空中消灭美国在珍珠港的海空力量；从海上奇袭占领新加坡；在菲律宾登陆，占领马尼拉，然后扫荡东印度群岛的残敌。在这以后，利用这些新得到的资源对中国发动一次强大的攻势，占领全中国，同时击退英美的反攻。最后的赌注是：德国或者赢得这场使日本有机可乘的自相残杀的白种人大战，或者耗尽英美两国的力量，使日本最终保持它所攫取到的东西，不管德国遭遇到什么结局。 包括天皇在内的日本领袖们对于这个孤注一掷的计划会不会成功是抱着怀疑态度的；但是他们又觉得没有别的选择。日本的困境很象德国进攻苏联以前那样。这两个掌握在军国主义者手里的国家，发动了他们不能够结束的战争。随着时间的逝去和供应的减少，他们改变了进攻的矛头，希望自己的命运得以改善。 当前迫使日本人决一死战的有三个理由。他们的石油快要用完了。气候马上要变得对军事行动不利。白种人最后也有了戒心，每星期都用越来越多的飞机、战舰、高射炮、坦克和防御工事加强他们的三个军事据点。日本在南太平洋和东亚的暂时优势正在消失。除非罗斯福总统在华盛顿忽然变得温和起来，日本就不得不采取行动，要不然就不得不放弃它建立帝国的努力。 所以，在陆海军橄榄球比赛的前一天，日本舰队已经驶离千岛群岛，开进黑魆魆的浪涛汹涌的海洋，向夏威夷进发。 正当日本的特遣舰队向东驶去的时候，一列小得多的美国特遣舰队从珍珠港出发，向西驶去。威廉•海尔赛海军将军把十二架海军战斗机放在“企业号”航空母舰上开往威克岛。日本久已非法地在太平洋的每一个岛上设防，并用环礁把它保护起来。尽管罗斯福总统作了多次努力，国会始终不同意拨款在美国的岛上针锋相对地设防。现在，在一九四一年十一月底，拨款已经通过了。工程正在加速进行中。在威克岛，工程已经完成一半，但是环礁依旧没有防空设备。 出海第二天，在一个晶莹的晴朗早晨，华伦•亨利在进行拂晓搜索后，把飞机斜转着降落在“企业号”航空母舰上。甲板朝着华伦升起，钩子扣住第二号钢缆，他的肚皮紧紧顶着安全带，他降落下来，停在穿着漂亮的红、绿、黄各色军服的舱面水兵中间，他们围绕着降落的飞机，手舞足蹈地疯狂做着手势。温暖的海风从他的后座机枪手敞开的座舱盖上吹进来。华伦解开安全带和各种索缆，收起他的图表和日志，笨手笨脚地从飞机舱里爬出来，迎着清风登上甲板，这时另一架侦察机轰轰隆隆地飞到，猛地停下来。负责着陆的军官把信号板靠在嘴的两边，冲着他嚷道：“喂，所有驾驶员都在上午九点到侦察六队的待命室集合。” "What's up?" “长官要跟大家说话。” “舰长吗？” “海尔赛。” "God." 在待命室里，深凹进去的舒适的椅子上已经坐满了人，穿着咔叽军服或者飞行衣和黄色救生衣的飞行员们沿着舱壁排成一列。海尔赛随同舰长和空军中队长们一同走进来，站在伸向前方的树脂玻璃记录板前面，板上用橘黄色油彩标出搜索样式和任务。华伦离海尔赛只有几英尺。由于离得很近，海尔赛的脸孔看上去好象黑一块白一块的，很苍老，他不时皱着眉头，象起神经性痉挛似的露出牙齿。 空军中队长挥舞着一个绿色的油印文件。“好，昨天你们大伙儿都收到了这个文件，也讨论过啦，可是将军还要我把它大声宣读一遍。战斗序列第一号。 1. '企业号'目前正在作战情况下行动。 2.不论什么时候，白天或者黑夜，我们都必须准备立刻投入战斗。 3.我们可能遭遇敌人的潜艇……'现在正是需要毅力和 勇气的时候。 ' 美国'企业号'指挥官， 批准：威•海尔赛， 美国海军中将，舰队空军司令。 " 舰长后退一步，站在将军后面空军中队长们的中间。海尔赛向整个房间扫了一眼，皱起他闪动着的灰色眉毛。“谢谢你，舰长。我听说昨天有人提出，一些问题。我到这儿是来听你们的意见的，先生们。”没有人说话或者举手。 海尔赛将军情不自禁地皱起眉头，回过头去望望舰长和空军中队长们。他又向驾驶员们说：“你们干嘛不吭声呢？”这一问引起一阵不自然的窃笑。“我得到确切的报告，据说有人说这个文件使得你们每个人有权把美国推到世界大战中去。现在，那位说这样话的勇敢的人愿意站出来吗？” 华伦•亨利从舱壁旁边向前跨了一步。大伙儿的脸都朝着他。 "what's your name?" “华伦•亨利上尉，先生。” “亨利？”海尔赛的脸色稍微温和一些。“你跟维克多•亨利上校有亲属关系吗？” “他是我的爸爸，先生。” “哦，他是个出色的军官。那么，你觉得这个战斗序列会让你把国家拖到战争里面去，是不是？” “先生，昨天我附带说过，我是非常赞成打仗的。” “你非常赞成打仗，嗯？为什么？你是什么人，一个嗜血的刽子手？”将军仰起凸出的下巴。 “将军，我想咱们现在已经在打仗了，不过咱们是双手被反绑着在打仗。” 海尔赛脸上抽动一下，挥一挥手，叫华伦站到后面去。将军双手反剪在背后，用严厉的声调说：“先生们，这个部队在几星期以前已经清除了不必要的什物，准备投入战斗了。据我所知，'企业号'上散乱的、可有可无的、易燃的东西都已经清除了，只留下军官室里的一架钢琴。这是我特许留下的。瞧，我们的任务是秘密的。在我们的航路上不会有美国的船只，也不会有友好国家的船只。我们已经警告它们避开。我们遇到的船只都是属于敌人的。除非我们先开火，我们也许就永远不会再有开火的机会了。所以，这个部队要首先开火， 有什么争论以后再说。责任由我来负。 ——还有什么问题吗？ " 他慢慢地向那些严肃的年轻面孔扫了一眼。“那么再见吧，祝你们搜索顺利。”过后，光着全身躺在上床铺上的华伦的僚机驾驶员说：“嗯，可以肯定他一点。他是个有勇气的混蛋！” “也可以说是个好战的老疯子，”华伦说着，把他刮脸刀上的肥皂泡涮去。“要看事态的发展。” 在日本向东驶去的舰队和海尔赛向西驶去的舰队互相逼近的那一天，华伦•亨利采取向北搜索样式，笔直地朝着日本舰队飞行了二百多英里。日本人照例派出一架侦察机飞向正南方大约同样距离的地方。但是在辽阔的太平洋上，他们仍旧象是捉迷藏一样。在两架侦察机最远的搜索点之间隔着几百英里没有搜索到的水面，因此这两个舰队太太平平地驶了过去。 关岛上空的光亮渐渐暗淡了。维克多•亨利从降落的飞剪型客机的窗眼里瞥见落日的余晖向北平行地照射到梯田交错的丛林，向南照射到关岛的山岭和海边崎岖不平的巉崖。朦胧的光线使景物模糊起来。关岛象是日本银幕上画出的一座岛屿。日本人占据的一座岛屿——罗塔岛——黑压压的一片，很鲜明地伸出在血红的天边。 在暮色苍茫中，一群满身流汗的疲倦的乘客站在入境移民棚外面，这时一辆灰色汽车开来，在挡泥板上面飘动着一面美国国旗和一面镶着灿烂星光的舰首旗。 “是亨利上校吗？”一位穿白军服的海军军官向他敬了个礼，把一个信封递给他，他满有把握地从空运驾驶员和文职人员中间认出一位身穿青灰条薄麻布、佩戴海军四条杠杠的人。“总督问候您，长官。”这封短信潦草地写在有金色顶饰的奶油色信纸上。 关岛总督 小京利弗顿•诺伯特•托莱佛，美国海军上校喂，帕格—— Hi!世界上最坏的打红心牌的人，只要不在安息日，请你来我这儿喝酒，吃饭，打牌玩，好吗？ Kip 帕格看到信上对他在安息日的小禁忌开了那种叫人厌烦的玩笑，就微微一笑。“不行，上尉。对不起。等到我在这儿检查完毕，到了旅馆梳洗好，总督就要吃罢饭了。” “不，先生。让我来帮您办手续吧。总督要我把你的行李连同其它一切都带到总督府去。他会给您个房间，让您收拾整齐。” 总督副官浆洗得笔挺的白军服上的金肩章象魔术似的驱走了困难。五分钟内，维克多•亨利就上了总督的汽车，那 些留在后面的飞剪型客机上其他乘客都羡慕地瞪着眼目送他。 天渐渐黑下来，副官沿着一条狭窄而弯曲的柏油路在岛上行驶，熟练地避开一些凹坑，却又撞在别的凹坑上，颠簸得连骨头都痛了。 “你们这儿没有修路设备吗？”帕格问。 “先生，总督已经把土木工程的钱用来安装火炮掩体和各种小型防御工事了。他说也许他要为这件事受绞刑，但是他的首要责任不是铺路而是保卫这座岛。尽最大限度的努力去保卫它。” 汽车的前灯在大部分路上照见了绿色的丛林和几处耕田。“先生，终于到了市区啦。” 汽车驶过一条铺过的街道，街两旁是关上百叶窗的商店和几个灯光暗淡的酒吧间，叫做快餐酒店和啤酒餐厅什么的。看去很孤寂的水兵们在这儿的人行道上踱来踱去，有几个水兵跟衣服穿得单薄的吃吃笑着的褐肤色姑娘在一起。汽车开到一个花草美丽的大广场，四周是四座古色古香的西班牙式石头建筑物：一座大教堂、一座长长的兵营、一所庞大的监狱和一座被副官叫做总督府的华丽大厦。 维克多•亨利从一道宽大的楼梯登上总督府的平台时，基普•托莱佛向他招手示意。他身穿一件浆得笔挺的白军服，坐在一把西班牙式有雕刻的圈椅上，被一盏枝形铣吊灯下面的黄色灯光笼罩着。几个穿衬衫和裤子的本地人站在他面前。 “坐下，帕格！”他指着他身旁的一把椅子说。“欢迎你来。会议开不了多久的。萨拉斯，赶快去办吧。小学生们怎样了？他们是不是每天都在操练？” 这是个布置防御工作的会议。托莱佛用一种屈尊俯就的和蔼态度用英语或者西班牙语跟关岛人讲话。有一两个关岛人讲一种古怪的土话，由别人代为翻译。关岛人个儿比菲律宾人高，外表很漂亮。 “喂，帕格•亨利！”那些本地人鞠了个躬走下楼以后，总督轻轻拍了拍他客人的膝头说。“看到你的名字在飞剪型客机乘客的名单上，真叫我感到意外！你要知道，在这个岛上，乘客名单一向是重大的新闻。凯特还在这儿的时候，每星期两次她总是抢着看名单，就象看情书似的。好吧，你喜欢什么呢？喝酒，还是淋浴？来，咱们喝一杯吧。你到什么地方去了？怎么会到我们这个天堂似的岛上来的？” 他们俩在平台上，用雕刻得很精致的绿色高酒杯喝着上等甜酒，由帕格谈他的旅行见闻。托莱佛似乎对俄国的战争情况比对日本更感兴趣。帕格说到他在东京呆了四天，他的回答只是：“哦，真的吗？我且问你，你能不能在这儿住一夜？我叫一个侍者照料你。你会过得很舒服的。” “不，基普，谢谢你。我最好住到泛美旅馆去。飞机起飞要看天气，我不愿意误了这班飞机。” “没问题，”基普的口气听起来好象很有权威。“你不走他们不会起飞。这件事交给我好了。” 帕格觉得这所官邸很沉闷，尽管有金碧辉煌的房间和豪华的深色家具。他房间里的床安置在缓缓转动的电扇下面，床上铺着金银色的织锦。一间宽敞的浴室里镍制的新管子喷出滚烫的热水。可是屋内多么静寂啊！关岛的侍者穿着雪白的制服象幽灵一样悄悄地走来走去。他跟总督看去是这儿仅有的两个白人。因为那个海军上尉已经开着汽车到酒吧间去了。 在一间昏暗而漂亮的西班牙式餐厅里面，这两个美国人坐在一张黑得发亮的长桌子一头，吃着全部是从国内运来的冷冻或者罐头食品。基音•托莱佛在吃头两道菜的时候还保持着地方长官的尊严，很有礼貌地问到他在柏林的老朋友以及马尼拉的局势。但是当他喝完一杯又一杯酒以后，他装出来的门面忽然倒塌，裂成碎片。他马上用亲密的口气向帕格表示艳羡，承认自己的任务是不愉快的。年轻的军官们可以到酒馆去，到俱乐部去喝酒打牌。总督却不得不一个人留在总督府里从早坐到晚。他睡得很不好。他非常想念他的妻子。不过妇女们自然是非离开这儿不可的。要是日本人行动起来，关岛连一个星期也守不住。在离关岛只消半个钟头，飞行时间的塞班岛和突尼安岛，日本的轰炸机排列在新建造的简易机场上，庞大的军队运输舰停泊在那里。关岛没有军用机场。 正在上点心的时候，海军陆战队副官率领四个穿白军服的年轻军官走进来。 “好啦，好啦，有了伴儿啦，”总督说，“这些小伙子每天晚上吃过晚饭就到这儿来，帕格，我教了他们玩红心纸牌的诀窍。你乐意吗？你想打牌玩儿，还是宁愿聊天？” 帕格看见那几个年轻人一听到还有另外一个选择，马上面露喜色。他把声音放低得近于缺乏热情似的说：“好吧，我想，我们打牌吧。” 总督犹豫不决地看看客人，又看看那些年轻军官。对他的下级谈话时他把身子挺得笔直：浓密的灰白头发、长下巴的瘦脸和一双明亮的蓝眼睛本来应该使人望而生畏，然而他的样子只显得疲倦和忧郁，对于习惯和礼貌之间这种微不足道的选择迟疑不决。红心纸牌游戏在总督的孤单的生活中分明是一个愉快的时刻。 “喂，怎么办？”托莱佛说，“我不是能够经常见到我的同班同学的，特别象这样有名的人物。你们这些年轻小伙子走吧，自己找消遣去。明天这个时候再来。” “是，是，先生。那个海军陆战队军官说，尽量装出失望的声音。四个年轻军官在鞋跟敲着砖地的一阵得得声中离开了。 托莱佛上校和亨利上校喝着白兰地酒坐了很久。基普问帕格，他心里真正想的是什么：日本人会行动起来吗？还是在塞班岛增加防御只是为华盛顿的会谈虚张声势？他曾经做过美国驻东京大使馆的武官，然而日本人在他看来却是一个谜。坏人掌了权，麻烦就在这里。陆军已经取得确认或者否决陆军大臣的权力，这就是说，陆军将领们可以推翻他们所不喜欢的任何内阁。从那时起，日本就时刻在决心想要从事征服；但是他们真的要进攻美国吗？有些他认识的日本人是对美国友好的再好不过的人，他们很担心他们的军阀；另一方面，客机上的旅客经常告诉他关于日本人在中国血腥屠杀的暴行，特别对于落到他们手里的白种人。 “帕格，你曾经从报纸上看到一九三七年日本军队占领南 京的时候干下的事情吗？真把我们气死，他们竟把'帕奈号'战舰炸沉了，嗐，他们象疯子似的到处乱杀人。千真万确，他们强奸了两万个中国女人，然后把她们中间多数人都给肢解了。我说的是肢解——一点不错。女人的大腿，头颅和乳房，老天爷可以作证，都乱扔在大街上！这是事实，帕格。他们还把中国人成百地绑在一起，用机关枪把他们扫射死。他们在大街上追赶小孩子们，拿他们当小兔子一样枪杀掉。几天之内，他们大概屠杀了二十万平民。所有这一切都登载在正式的报道里，帕格。事情是的确发生了的。我幸而有机会查证了一下事实，是我个人对这件事感兴趣，你可以这么说。现在呢，我坐在这儿，”他把第四或者第五杯白兰地酒倒进闪闪发亮的圆形杯子里，对他的老同学翻着白眼。“现在我坐在这儿。没有飞机，没有军舰，没有地面部队，只有少数水手和少数海军陆战队。海军当局本来应该叫我撤退的，可是啊，不成，政客们决不会赞成。就是那班政客，他们甚至不肯投票通过一笔拨款来加强这个岛的防御。那么，我们只有坐在这儿等着他们来了。舰队决不会及时开到这儿来援救我们的。 “帕格，你还记得在我们毕业的时候，勒基•巴格是怎么说到我的吗？'今天，基普•托莱佛班上的同学，谁都愿意取得他的地位，三十年后的今天尤其如此。'你觉得好笑，是不是？这是不是从古到今最大的笑话？嗨，咱们再喝一杯，然后听听东京播送的午夜新闻。” 在嵌着护墙板的图书室内，总督拨动海军收音机的刻度盘：一部七英尺高的庞大的黑色机器，机器里闪烁出红光、绿光和黄光，发出哨声和呼啸声，接着是一个日本女人清晰的声音。她先讲德军在莫斯科周围获得的巨大胜利，预言苏联即将投降，然后又用愉快的声调报道弗兰克林•罗斯福的秘密作战计划暴露后在美国引起的巨大骚动。《芝加哥论坛报》曾经得到所谓《胜利纲领》的一个文件（那个美妙的声音拖 长了调子，说到胜利计划的时候，维克多•亨利坐直了身子），这个计划要求征召八百万军队，对日本进行防御战争，并要求从英国基地起飞对德国进行全面空袭，然后在一九四三年入侵欧洲。她宣称出于爱国的热忱，那家报纸把全部计划都发表了！ 那个女人说，罗斯福的罪恶阴谋是要站在殖民主义财阀一边，把美国拖进战争中去，这个阴谋现在暴露出来了。美国人民已经愤怒地站起来，国会议员正在号召对白宫的骗子提出弹劾。白宫正在保持可耻的沉默，但是最近日本的建议中那种公正和爱好和平的意图——特别对照战争贩子罗斯福的秘密阴谋——正在受到美国全国的欢迎。那个女人不断地说下去，把《芝加哥论坛报》上的那个文件一整节一整节读出来。帕格了解那些章节，有些句子还是他自己写的。 “帕格，你是怎样理解这件事情的？这是一堆胡话，是不是？”托莱佛打了个哈欠。“大概哪个记者弄到了一份参谋部应付紧急事变的研究计划，拿来大做文章了。” “当然啦。还有什么别的可能呢？” 帕格心里痛苦极了。象这样的事都能发生，美国已糟到不可救药的地步了。日本人可以占领东印度，甚至菲律宾；美国还是不愿作战的。在他看来，象这样在报纸上泄漏国家的最高秘密是缺乏起码的荣誉感，这种情况在历史上是很少见的。唯一叫人放心的一面，就是这种卖国行为如此毫不掩饰，如此叫人吃惊，也许德国人和日本人根本就不会相信，尽管他们一定会利用这件事而大肆宣传。 “到我上床睡觉去的时候了，”维克多•亨利摇摇头，站起身来。 “哦，不，帕格。坐下。吃点煎蛋卷还是什么的好吗？我的厨师做的煎蛋卷很好吃。再过半个钟头，我们就会听到旧金山播送的上午八点钟的新闻了。这家伙的声音听起来就象从隔壁屋子里播送出来的。咱们听一听，除了《芝加哥论坛 报》的那些玩艺儿以外还有什么，把它们跟《芝加哥论坛报》上的那种胡说对比一下。拿旧金山的广播去核对东京的广播，听起来总是有趣的。 " 帕格坚持要回泛美旅馆去。压在他心头的危急之感已经够沉重的了，用不着再加上这个一边喝白兰地酒一边唠叨的落入陷阱的关岛总督——这个他海军学校时代同班中已经褪 色的风云人物——身上散发出来的象霉味一样的倒霉气息了。托莱佛依旧要了煎蛋卷，又把维克多•亨利硬留了一个钟头，两个人闲谈着往日在马尼拉结邻而居的情形。他对于孤独的恐惧是露骨的，可怕的。 最后托莱佛闷闷不乐地走到电话机旁，把海军陆战队的一个军官召来，那个人在几分钟就开车来到。四个当侍者的关岛人忙着替帕格拿旅行皮箱和两个小提包。 基普从总督府楼梯的顶端提高了嗓门说：“喂，从珍珠港带一只戒指给凯蒂好吗？她住在拉霍亚我们家里。告诉她你看到了我，一切都很好。你知道她对关岛的学校很感兴趣。告诉她下学期的报名人数增加很多。同时，你知道，告诉她我爱她，一切等等。” “一定办到。基普。” “还请代我向罗达问候，好吗？在我过去认识的海军里面所有的妻子中间，她是最漂亮、最好的了——当然，除了我的凯蒂。” “我会把你说的话告诉她，基普，”帕格回答说，托莱佛用过去式动词说到他自己，使他感到有些沮丧。 “用'加利福尼亚号'好好追逐敌人吧，帕格。”托莱佛站在那儿望着汽车开去，只见一道笔直的白影消失在温暖的夜里。拂晓，飞剪型客机从关岛起飞了。