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Back The Fall of Valor
Chapters (51)
  1. Introduction by Michael Bronski
  2. BEGINNING
  3. II
  4. III
  5. IV
  6. V
  7. VI
  8. VII
  9. VIII
  10. IX
  11. X
  12. XI
  13. XII
  14. XIII
  15. MIDDLE
  16. II
  17. III
  18. IV
  19. V
  20. VI
  21. VII
  22. VIII
  23. IX
  24. X
  25. XI
  26. XII
  27. XIII
  28. XIV
  29. XV
  30. XVI
  31. XVII
  32. XVIII
  33. XIX
  34. XX
  35. END
  36. II
  37. III
  38. IV
  39. V
  40. VI
  41. VII
  42. VIII
  43. IX
  44. X
  45. XI
  46. XII
  47. XIII
  48. XIV
  49. XV
  50. XVI
  51. About the Author

Even had he been more articulate, nothing new was to be learned from Cliff’s account. It was a common narrative, nowadays. One read it in every paper, heard it on all sides. Boys home from the fronts told more or less the same thing—one could have anticipated almost everything they had to say, and even, in many cases, told the story better than they did. Why was it, then, that John Grandin listened with such admiration, attention, and interest? He wondered himself why he should be hanging on every word of a recital which, in these times, was by no means unique. One of the things which held him was Cliff’s eagerness to share an experience which the marine knew could never be Grandin’s—and because of which, possibly, he pitied him. In a sense that he was not aware of, Cliff was trying to give him something of his youth, or at least of what it was like to be young in 1943. John Grandin was touched by the effort and the gift, even though they made him feel more remote from Cliff than ever.

“Johnnie,” he said suddenly, “you’re a wonderful guy, do you know it?”

“Why, I—”

“No, I mean it, I really mean it. You can’t imagine what it means to me, Johnnie, to be able to talk about these things. Ever since I came back I’ve been thinking about them a lot. Out there, I don’t think a single thought ever entered my head; but lately—well, what I’ve been through, what all the other guys are going through, it’s something you’ve got to speak of, once in a while. You’re a good listener, Johnnie. I guess that’s why I pick on you.”

“I’m interested, Cliff.”

“I know it, that’s what I feel about you and it means a lot to me.” He scooped up a handful of sand and began pouring it over his knees. “You’re the kind of guy who understands things. I feel I could talk to you about—well, about a lot of things.”

“I’m very flattered, Cliff, but—it probably has little to do with me. You’d find others the same. Don’t you think it’s largely, perhaps, because you haven’t talked with others before?”

“Maybe you’re right, Johnnie, but women—they never understand. When you come right down to it, I guess men are the only ones you can talk with. You even more than most.”

“But we scarcely know each other, Cliff.”