Tigerland Page #5

Yeah, we all butchers.

No, l'm a real butcher.

-You haven't killed anyone yet.

-Goddamn it, l mean a real butcher!

Back home. l cut meat.

l do it damn fine too.

Did it in high school,

did it after high school.

l could cut you a piece of meat

so clean...

...it'll have you praying

to beefsteak.

l'm a good butcher, Bozz.

It's all l ever wanted to be.

You laughing at me?

No, Miter. l ain't laughing at you.

My wife, she laughed at me.

My daddy too.

l didn't make no money.

Just a store boy,

that's what my daddy said.

''Hey, store boy. Hey, boy!''

Called me boy. Imagine that? Sh*t

kicker, calling me boy all the time.

l ain't a boy, goddamn it!

Telling me how he's

a big fancy war hero!

And my wife, that little--

My wife.

She's pretty.

Prettiest girl in Lake Charles High.

Prettiest girl

in the state of Louisiana.

She was mad at me because

l was working all the time.

Giving her the money...

...for junior college.

l knowed then, like...

...like l knowed later on...

...she was seeing a f***ing

college boy on the side!

Goddamn it! My daddy said it.

He said, ''See? See what a dumb-ass

bastard you are?

Blinded by the beaver store, boy.

You ought to have a !,ittle ring

in your nose.

So you thought you'd join the Army

and kill yourself like a real man.

Bozz, l know you can get people out.

Maybe.

Even in this wild-ass nonsense,

some rules fly by.

Please, Bozz. Please get me

out of here. Please?

Well, look here.

Goddamn.

That captain sure didn't want

to let me go at first.

But l did like you said.

Told him the Army wants me

to see a psychiatrist.

-And that was it, huh?

-l wanted to thank you personally.

Doctor sent me on leave.

He'll contact the Red Cross,

get me out-processed.. .

...so l don't have to come back.

Good, Miter. Glad to hear

you're nuts, man.

-Best of luck, Miter.

-Thanks, Paxton.

Take care, Johnson.

Thanks again, Bozz.

-So long.

-Go be a butcher, Miter!

-Try not to get shot, hear?

-Don't let your meat loaf, man.

Yeah, f*** you.

-Private Bozz, reporting as ordered.

-At ease.

So you're the new platoon

guide for 2nd Platoon?

Yes, sir.

The f***ing world is full

of f***ing surprises.

lt wasn't your plan to wear

sergeant's stripes...

...a week away from

Tigerland in a war.

l don't know, sir. The idea

crossed my mind now and again.

l just didn't think it would

all be so pitiful sad.

Been looking over your 201 .

You're a Texas boy.

Couple run-ins with the law.

A year in state college.

Dropout, worked construction.

-Get drafted?

-Yes, sir.

-Why didn't you stay in school?

-Maybe l needed some trouble, sir.

Well, you got it.

You also got responsibility.

You got a platoon to run.

The company's like the bad end of a

sh*t storm. Your platoon's the worst.

-Thank you, sir.

-That's not a compliment, smart-ass.

l don't want any more calls

from battalion...

...asking me why this troopie needs

a hardship discharge...

.. .and that troopie needs

some kind of a mental wet nurse.

-You understand me?

-Yes, sir.

Wipe that f***ing grin off your face.

A week from now you'll ship out

to Tigerland.

That'll crawl in your skull

and look out your eyes.

So let's start fresh.

-Give your people a weekend pass.

-Already done it, sir.

You are a goddamn piece of work, Bozz.

l believe you could soldier as well

as any man in this army.

l even think you want to,

but you won't.

l'm just trying to keep myself alive.

We're fighting a war, private. Nobody

knows how he's gonna come back.

That's not the kind of alive

l'm talking about, sir.

Here's 1 50 bucks.

Happy Halloween!

Cough it up, Brian.

Next time, Pax.

-Catch you later, buddy.

-All right.

Who's that girl you're

talking to, Bozz?

-Trying to score some weed.

-l{now what l don't get?

Why they haven't tossed you

out on some lunatic discharge...

-...some bullshit like that.

-l ain't crazy.

You're out of your f***ing mind.

My reasons are my reasons and

no one has to like them.

What about these f***ing war games?

What if it's a lie?

What if the guys who tell you and me

sh*t to do were lied to also?

Maybe since everyone believes

in the same mistake, you know...

...maybe they're all as confused

aS We ale.

All this ''Boy's boy,

man's man'' bullshit.

Ever feel you're just being stupid?

Yeah. And it gives me a warm,

gooey feeling inside too.

Oh, man, we need women, Pax!

Oh, l hear you, buddy!

l hear your a**hole's tighter

than a migraine.

-F*** you!

-Hey, man.

-You're Bozz, right?

-Uh-huh.

Fellas say that if you don't

want to go to Nam...

.. .you better pray to Jesus

or talk to Roland Bozz.

-Better start praying to Jesus, then.

-Sorry, kid!

-Oh, my God, look here.

-Oh, Jesus!

-l'm in trouble, l'm in trouble!

-You are!

-Come here, baby.

-l'll come if you got some money.

-l might have some money.

-You might or you do?

-You better have some.

-That's what l need to see.

-You want to see it?

-Yeah, l do.

-You got me covered, right?

-Here it is.

As l was about to come, l let out a

fart. Should've seen her face.

Heard it in the next room.

Thought a grenade went off.

-How was yours?

-Expensive.

-You feel guilty?

-Because l'm broke?

l figured you for a guy

who left a sweetheart back home.

-She left me.

-That's why you joined the Army.

-Go on, confess.

-No, she broke it off when l enlisted.

-Didn't want to be a widow.

-She's got a point.

After all this bullshit...

...you still want to go kill women

and children in rice paddies?

-Come on, Paxton!

-Where you going, Bozz?

-l have no idea.

-F***.

-We are gonna jump, my young friend!

-Sh*t, Bozz, l'm too drunk.

-Come on, Paxton.

-l'll break my neck.

l don't want to go without you,

Man.

All right, l see what this is.

This jump, it's like this

existential leap of faith.

Abso-f***ing-lutely.

l have no idea what that means.

We'll break those legs

and get out of the war.

-Okay, let's go.

-That's it, here we go.

-l'm ready.

-That's it.

lt's gonna be on my count,

it'll be one, two, three.

-Let's break those legs.

-Okay, one!

Two!

Three!

-Was that the count?

-That was the count.

-Okay, okay.

-Here we go, here we go.

-Hot girl.

-Oh, yeah, hot girl.

On my count again, one, two, three.

Okay, one!

Two!

Three!

The legs won't move. Sh*t.

They're out for themselves.

Goddamn it.

lf that bottle was a leg, we'd be

out of the war about now.

-Looks like that would really hurt.

-Oh, f***.

Canadian Atlantic Railway.

There's your ride out of here, Bozz.

Go to Canada and live with

a f***ing moose? No way, man.

Mexico, that's where l'd disappear to.

Can't you just smell it?

See it? Sh*t, l can

smell it from here.

All that sunshine and tequila. All

those little seioritas walking around.

-Would you--

-What?

lf l told you about people

who can get us to Mexico...

...away from the war, would you go?

No.

No, l wouldn't.

l enlisted, so there's a place for me.

lf l don't go, somebody

has to take that place.

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