Slow Learner by Thomas Pynchon Read Free Book Online Page A

machine-like efficiency the operation had a certain air of informality: hardly anyone wore hats, a colonel or a major would stop to chat with the corpsmen. "Like combat," the sergeant said. "All the rules are out. Hell, who needs 'em anyway." They stayed till half past five and then drove back. "Where do you find a shower," Levine said, "or don't you." The PFC grinned. "I got a buddy took one in a sorority house last night," he said. "Damn near anyplace you can find one, I reckon."
    When they got back to the trucks Levine looked in on Picnic. "Cut out," he said. "If you can find a shower someplace let me know."
    "Damn, that's right," Picnic said. "It is July, isn't it." Levine took his place at the Angry Ten and listened to the circuit for a while; nothing much was happening. Half an hour later Picnic was back. "What the hell," he said, "Rizzo's listening over there. He wants to
    be R.A., why should we sweat it. What you do is you go about a block past the chapel, there's this dormitory. You can't miss it. All kinds of people going in and out."
    "Thanks," Levine said, "back in five. We'll go get a beer or something." He got a clean change of skivvies and fatigues and his shaving kit out of the laundry bag and walked out into the warm heavy darkness. The copters were still landing and taking off, their head and taillights making them look like something out of a science fiction movie. Levine found the dormitory, went in, showered, shaved, changed clothes. When he got back Picnic was reading Swamp Wench . They went out and found another bar, noisier and thronged with a Friday night crowd. They got a glimpse of Baxter, trying to put the make on a girl whose date was already too drunk to want to fight about it. "Oh god," Levine said. Picnic looked at him. "Not to sound like Rizzo or anything," he said, "but what's the matter, Nathan? Where is the old Sgt. Bilko type soldier we used to know and love? Is the past beginning to close in or are you on the verge of undergoing an intellectual crisis or what."
    Levine shrugged. "It's probably only my stomach," he said. "After all the time I've been developing and caring for this here beer belly, something like those stiffs comes along and throws it out of kilter."
    "Bad, I guess," Picnic said. "Yeah," Levine said. "Let's talk about something else."
    They sat and watched the college kids, each trying to look at it as something unusual and nothing they had ever been or would ever want to be part of. The blonde who called herself little Buttercup came over and said, "Spot this quote."
    "I know a better game," Levine said.
    "Ha, ha," the blonde said and sat down. "My date was ill," she explained, "he had to go home."
    "There but for the grace of god," Picnic said.
    "Been working hard?" little Buttercup asked with a bright smile. Levine leaned back and put his arm carelessly over her shoulders. "I only work hard when the end is worth it," he said, looking at her, and they tried to stare each other down for a while until he smiled with a kind of small triumph and added, "or attainable."
    She raised her eyebrows. "Maybe even then you don't have to work so hard," she said.
    "What are you doing tomorrow night," Levine said, "we'll find out." An adolescent-looking rebel in a cord coat came staggering up to them and flung an arm around her neck, knocking over Picnic's beer in the process. "Oh Jesus Christ," she said, "are you back?" Picnic gazed down at his soaked fatigues sadly. "What a dandy excuse for a fight," he said. "Shall we, Nathan." Baxter had been eavesdropping. "Yeah," he said, "now you're talking, Benny buddy." He swung a wild roundhouse at nobody in particular which caught Picnic on the side of the head and knocked him off the chair. "God," Levine said, looking down, "you all right Benny?" Picnic did not answer. Levine shrugged. "Come on, Baxter, let's take him back. Excuse me, little Buttercup." They picked up Picnic and carried him back to the truck.
    The next morning Levine was