The Eternity Brigade by Stephen Goldin, Ivan Goldman Page B

volunteer. He’s going to die in action with a smile on his face.
    “Connors, too. Something pushed him hard. He didn’t like it. Probably fought it like a wildcat. No use. That’s why he blew up at Lucky. He was mad at himself for being pushed, and had to let it out somewhere. Lucky just got in the way.”
    Green paused and looked straight into Hawker’s face. “And you, my little sphinx. You’re the major mystery. Something pushed you, and I can’t read what it was. You look like you’re drifting, but you’re pushed just like the rest of us. Wish I knew why.”
    Hawker wanted to explain the fear he’d felt at being forced out on his own, the anxiety at taking responsibility for his own life, the dread of making decisions. It was all much simpler, he wanted to say, when the choices were made for you; then you could just accept it and not have to worry.
    But the words refused to come. He was never comfortable with words, and especially around someone as smart as Green. He didn’t want to look like a dummy so he preferred to say nothing.
    Green kept staring at him, and Hawker was forced to turn away. After a few minutes, the other man said, “Well?”
    “Well, what?” Hawker asked.
    “Aren’t you going to ask me?”
    “Ask you what?”
    Green exploded. “Ask me what’s pushing me , you moron! Aren’t you interested? Don’t you want to know? Don’t you have even the faintest shred of curiosity? God gave you a brain, the most magnificent computer ever devised, to set you apart from the chimpanzees and the orangutans. Are you just going to let it go to waste? Don’t you even care what’s going on around you? Don’t you care what makes things work? Don’t you wonder, even a little bit, why people do the things they do?”
    Hawker was dazed by the sudden outburst. “I… I always sort of thought that was none of my business.”
    Green relaxed again, and then began laughing uncontrollably. “You are one of a kind, you know that?”
    “I don’t see what’s so funny,” Hawker said, hurt that the other man would be laughing at him.
    “You wouldn’t,” Green said, and continued laughing.
    Spurred to anger by his friend’s callousness, Hawker exploded a bit himself. “Yes, damn it, I wondered. A guy like you could have it made in civilian life. You’re smart, you could go to college and make something of yourself. Doctor, lawyer, politician, I don’t know—something big. For me and Lucky, the army’s the best thing that ever happened to us, but I never could figure out what you were doing here. I figured that was your business, though. If you wanted me to know, you’d tell me, otherwise it wasn’t right to ask. But you have no right to laugh at me, just because I respect your privacy.”
    Green stopped laughing and wiped the tears from his eyes. “I wasn’t laughing at you, just at this whole preposterous thing. Forget it. Forget I ever mentioned the subject.” He tried to stand, and got halfway up before sinking back into the chair. Hawker helped his friend to his feet.
    “Thanks,” Green said. “I’ve been drinking a lot on an empty stomach. That’s not good for me. What do you say we get some dinner and go to bed?”
    “Fine.”
    After a quick snack at the coffee shop they returned to their room. Hawker helped his friend undress, and both lay down in the darkness on their respective beds. Hawker, though, wasn’t tired; his nap after the afternoon’s activities had left him feeling wide awake now. He lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling. Through the darkness, he could tell that Green was awake, too.
    Finally, Hawker said, “What is pushing you, David?”
    Minutes went by without an answer, and Hawker began to think he must have been mistaken about Green’s being awake, or else that the other man was too tired—or too upset—to answer him. But then suddenly Green replied, in a near-monotone, “My father is an Orthodox rabbi.”
    “Oh?”
    “Yeah.” More silence, then,