The Lords of Discipline by Pat Conroy Read Free Book Online Page B

here.”
    “Bubba, thanks for the lecture about the Corps. But I’ve been watching it a lot longer than you have and I know what the Corps can and cannot do a lot better than you do. But you’re right. They can run him out with the morning trash. The thing is we selected Pearce over five other black applicants. We lucked out—or at least we think we did. He’s smart. Comes from a good family, wants to make a career out of the military, and is pretty good looking for a nigger. But most important, he’s tough. He could eat any five other freshmen for breakfast. But God knows he’s going to need to be tough. We want you to be his liaison, Bubba. You watch over him when you can. Work out a system where he can contact you if things get out of control. He got a bunch of threatening letters this summer, and word is out that there’s a group on campus that doesn’t want him to make it, that has sworn to run out every nigger that the Federal government jams down our throat. It’s up to you and me and the other authorities and good cadets to make sure they fail.”
    “What group, Colonel?” I said, puzzled.
    “If I knew who it was, Bubba, I wouldn’t be wasting my breath talking to you. They’d be walking so many tours on the second battalion quad that they’d have blood blisters where their toes used to be. All we know, Bubba—and this is just guessing—is that we think it’s a secret group. One of the Board of Visitors thinks it might be The Ten.”
    “The Ten is a myth, Colonel. It’s supposed to be a secret organization, but no one can tell me it’s possible to keep a secret on this campus.”
    “Pearce got a letter from The Ten this summer,” the Bear said, looking toward the door.
    “He did?” I said. “What did it say?”
    “It mainly warned him to keep his black ass out of the Corps of Cadets if he knew what was good for him. It also said that niggers were living proof that Indians did fuck buffalo.”
    “He’d better get used to that kind of stuff, Colonel. But how do you know the letter came from The Ten?”
    “I’m a detective, Bubba. It was signed ‘The Ten.’ ”
    “It could have been anyone, Colonel. It could’ve been me. That’s been a joke on campus since I was a knob.”
    “I know, Bubba, I know,” he said, rolling his eyes at me and daintily picking the cigar stub out of the ashtray. He began to chew on it as he resumed speaking. “I’ve never seen one ounce of proof that it exists since I’ve been here. But there’s a rumor in the Corps that someone’s out to get Pearce and the Bear listens to rumors. Do you know why the Commandant’s Department wants you as Pearce’s liaison?”
    “The editorial?” I ventured.
    “Yeh, Bubba, you flaming Bolshevik, the editorial,” he said, leaning across the table, his brown eyes twinkling. “I was against letting the school paper print your editorial. If we’re going to have censorship, I think we ought to have real censorship, not the namby-pamby kind. But it did help spot the one bona fide nigger-lover in the Corps.”
    “Not everyone in the Corps is a racist, Colonel. There are a few holier-than-thou deviants among us.”
    “How about if I say that ninety-nine percent of the Corps is racist, Bubba?” he said, grinning.
    “You’re being too cautious, sir. It’s a much higher percentage than that.”
    “Did you write that editorial because you wanted to piss off the authorities, or do you really get a hard-on when you think about niggers? Tell me the truth, bum.”
    “I knew you wouldn’t sleep for a week, Colonel.”
    “Well, Pearce is going to make it, lamb. Pearce has got to make it. His time in history has come.”
    “And your time’s over, eh, Colonel?”
    “It may be, Bubba. But bums like you never had a time and, God willing, you never will.”
    “Colonel,” I asked, finishing the last oyster on my platter, “are you a racist? Do you want Pearce in the school?”
    “Yeh, I’m a racist. I liked the school