Reflections in a Golden Eye

An army post in peacetime is a dull place. Things happen, but then they happen over and
over again. The general plan of a fort in itself adds to the monotony the huge concrete
barracks, the neat rows of officers' homes built one precisely like the other, the gym,
the chapel, the golf course and the swimming pools all is designed according to a
certain rigid pattern. But perhaps the dullness of a post is caused most of all by
insularity and by a surfeit of leisure and safety, for once a man enters the army he is
expected only to follow the heels ahead of him. At the same time things do occasionally
happen on an army post that are not likely to re occur. There is a fort in the South where
a few years ago a murder was committed. The participants of this tragedy were: two
officers, a soldier, two women, a Filipino, and a horse.

The soldier in this affair was Private Ellgee Williams. Often in the late afternoon he
could be seen sitting alone on one of the benches that lined the sidewalk before the
barracks. This was a pleasant place, as here there was a long double row of young maple
trees that patterned the lawn and the walk with cool, delicate, windblown shadows. In the
spring the leaves of the trees were a lucent green that as the hot months came took on a
darker, restful hue. In late autumn they were flaming gold. Here Private Williams would
sit and wait for the call to evening mess. He was a silent young soldier and in the
barracks he had neither an enemy nor a friend. His round sunburned face was marked by a
certain watchful innocence. His full lips were red and the bangs of his hair lay brown and
matted on his forehead. In his eyes, which were of a curious blend of amber and brown,
there was a mute expression that is found usually in the eyes of animals. At first glance
Private Williams seemed a bit heavy and awkward in his bearing. But this was a deceptive
impression; he moved with the silence and agility of a wild creature or a thief. Often
soldiers who had thought themselves alone were startled to see him appear as from nowhere
by their sides. His hands were small, delicately boned, and very strong.

Private Williams did not smoke, drink, fornicate, or gamble. In the barracks he kept to
himself and was something of a mystery to the other men. Most of his leisure time Private
Williams spent out in the woods surrounding the post. The reservation, fifteen miles
square, was wild unspoiled country. Here were to be found giant virgin pines, many
varieties of flowers, and even such shy animals as deer, wild pig, and foxes. Except for
riding, Private Williams cared for none of the sports available to enlisted men. No one
had ever seen him in the gym or at the swimming pool. Nor had he ever been known to laugh,
to become angry, or to suffer in any way. He ate three wholesome, bounteous meals a day
and never grumbled about the food as did the other soldiers. He slept in a room
accommodating a long double row of about three dozen cots. This was not a peaceful room.
At night when the lights were out there was often the sound of snores, of curses, and of
strangled nightmare groans. But Private Williams rested tranquilly. Only sometimes from
his cot there would be a stealthy rustle from the wrapper of a candy bar.

When Private Williams had been in the army for two years he was sent one day to the
quarters of a certain Captain Penderton. This came about in the following manner. For the
past six months Private Williams had been detailed to permanent stable fatigue, as he was
quite a hand with horses. Captain Penderton had telephoned the post Sergeant Major and by
chance, as many of the horses were out on maneuvers and work around the stables was slack,
Private Williams was chosen for this particular duty. The nature of the assignment was
simple. Captain Penderton wished a small part of the woods behind his quarters cleared so
that later when a steak grill was put up he could give alfresco parties. This job would
require about one full day's work.

Private Williams set out for this assignment at about seven thirty in the morning. It was
a mild and sunny day in October. He knew already where the Captain lived, as he had passed
his house often when starting out for his walks in the woods. Also, he knew the Captain
well by sight. In fact he had once done the Captain an accidental injury. A year and a
half ago Private Williams had for a few weeks served as striker to the Lieutenant in
command of the company to which he was then attached. One afternoon the Lieutenant
received a visit from Captain Penderton and while serving them refreshments Private
Williams had spilled a cup of coffee on the Captain's trousers. In addition to this he now
saw the Captain frequently at the stables and he had in his charge the horse of the
Captain's wife a chestnut stallion which was easily the handsomest mount on the post.

The Captain lived on the outskirts of the fort. His house, an eight room two story
building of stucco, was identical with all the other houses on the street except for the
distinction of being an end house. On two sides the lawn adjoined the forest of the
reservation. On the right the Captain had as his only near neighbor Major Morris Langdon.
The houses on this street faced a large, flat expanse of brown sward which had until
recently served as the polo field.

When Private Williams arrived, the Captain came out to explain in detail what he wanted
done. The scrub oaks, the low briary bushes were to be cleared, the limbs of the large
trees growing at a level less than six feet would be cut away. The Captain pointed out a
large old oak about twenty yards from the lawn as the boundary for the space to be worked
on. The Captain wore a gold ring on one of his white, fattish hands. He was dressed this
morning in knee length khaki shorts, high wool socks, and a suede jacket. His face was
sharp and strained. He had black hair and eyes of a glassy blue. The Captain did not seem
to recognize Private Williams and he gave his directions in a nervous, finicky manner. He
told Private Williams he wanted the work completed that day and said he would be back
sometime in the late afternoon.

The soldier worked steadily all morning. At noon he went to the mess hall for his lunch.
By four o'clock the job was finished. He had done even more than the Captain specifically
requested. The large oak marking die boundary had an unusual shape the branches on the
side toward the lawn were high enough to walk beneath, but the branches on the opposite
side swept down gracefully to the ground. The soldier had with a great deal of trouble cut
off these down sweeping limbs. Then, when all was done, he leaned against the trunk of a
pine tree to wait. He seemed at peace with himself and quite content to stand there
waiting forever.

'Why, what are you doing here?' a voice asked him suddenly.

The soldier had seen the Captain's wife come out of the rear entrance of the house next
door and walk toward him across the lawn. He saw her, but she did not enter the dark
sphere of his consciousness until she spoke to him.

'I was just down at the stables,' Mrs. Penderton said. 'My Firebird has been kicked.'

'Yes, ma'am,' the soldier answered vaguely. He waited for a moment to digest the meaning
of her words. 'How?'

'That I don't know. Maybe some damn mule or maybe they let him in with the mares. I was
mad about it and I asked for you.'

The Captain's wife lay down in a hammock that was slung between two trees on the edge of
the lawn. Even in the clothes she was now wearing boots, soiled whipcord breeches very
worn at the knees, and a gray jersey she was a handsome woman. Her face had the bemused
placidity of a Madonna's and she wore her straight bronze hair brought back in a knot at
the nape of her neck. As she was resting there the servant, a young Negress, came out with
a tray holding a pint bottle of rye, a whiskey jigger, and some water. Mrs. Penderton was
not pernickety about her liquor. She drank down two jiggers straight and chased them with
a swallow of cold water. She did not speak to the soldier again and he did not question
her further about the horse. Neither seemed aware of the presence of the other in any way.
The soldier leaned back against his pine tree and stared unblinking into space.

The late autumn sun laid a radiant haze over the new sodded winter grass of the lawn, and
even in the woods the sun shone through in places where the leaves were not so dense, to
make fiery golden patterns on the ground. Then suddenly the sun was gone. There was a
chill in the air and a light, pure wind. It was time for retreat. From far away came the
sound of the bugle, clarified by distance and echoing in the woods with a lost hollow
tone. The night was near at hand.

At this point Captain Penderton returned. He parked his car before the house and crossed
the yard immediately to see how the work had been done. He greeted his wife and curtly
saluted the soldier who now stood at rather lax attention before him. The Captain glanced
over the cleared space. All at once he snapped his fingers and his lips sharpened with a
thin, stiff sneer. He turned his light blue eyes to the soldier. Then he said very
quietly: 'Private, the whole idea was in the big oak tree.'

The soldier received his comment in silence. His round serious face did not change.

'The instructions were for the ground to be cleared only so far as the oak tree,' the
officer continued in a higher voice. Stiffly he walked back to the tree in question and
pointed to the cut stark limbs. 'The way the boughs swept down and made a background
shutting off the rest of the woods was the whole point. Now it is all ruined.' The
Captain's agitation seemed more than such a mishap warranted. Standing alone in the woods
he was a small man.

'What does the Captain want me to do?' Private Williams asked after a long pause.

Mrs. Penderton laughed suddenly and put down one booted foot to rock the hammock. 'The
Captain wants you to pick up the branches and sew them back on again.'

Her husband was not amused. 'Here!' he said to the soldier. 'Bring some leaves and spread
them on the ground to cover the bare spaces where the bushes have been cleared. Then you
may go.' He tipped the soldier and went into the house.

Private Williams walked slowly back into the darkened woods to gather fallen leaves. The
Captain's wife rocked herself and seemed about to go to sleep. The sky filled with a pale,
cold yellow light and all was still.

Captain Penderton was in no comfortable state of mind this evening. On coming into the
house he went straight to his study. This was a small room planned originally as a sun
porch and leading from the dining room. The Captain settled himself at his desk and opened
a thick notebook. He spread out a map before him and took his slide rule from a drawer. In
spite of these preparations he was unable to put his mind to his work. He leaned over the
desk with his head in his hands and his eyes closed.

In part his restlessness was caused by his annoyance with Private Williams. He had been
irritated when he saw that it was this particular soldier who had been sent him. There
were perhaps only half a dozen enlisted men on all the post whose faces were familiar to
the Captain. He looked on all soldiers with bored contempt To him officers and men might
belong to the same biological genus, but they were of an altogether different species. The
Captain well remembered the accident of the spilled coffee, as it had ruined for him a
brand new and costly outfit. The suit was of heavy Chinese silk and the stain had never
been entirely removed. (The Captain always wore uniform when away from the post, but on
all social occasions among other officers he affected mufti and was a great swell.) Aside
from this grievance Private Williams was associated in the Captain's mind with the stables
and his wife's horse, Firebird an unpleasant association. And now the blunder about the
oak tree was the last straw. Sitting at his desk the Captain indulged in a brief, peevish
daydream he imagined a fantastic situation in which he caught the soldier transgressing
in some way and was instrumental in having him court martialed. This consoled him a
little. He poured himself a cup of tea from the thermos bottle on his desk and became
absorbed in other and more pertinent worries.

The Captain's restlessness this evening had many causes. His personality differed in some
respects from the ordinary. He stood in a somewhat curious relation to the three
fundaments of existence life itself, sex, and death. Sexually the Captain obtained
within himself a delicate balance between the male and female elements, with the
susceptibilities of both the sexes and the active powers of neither. For a person content
to withdraw a bit from life, and able to collect his scattered passions and throw himself
wholeheartedly into some impersonal work, some art or even some crack brained fixed idea
such as an attempt to square the circle for such a person this state of being is
bearable enough. The Captain had his work and he did not spare himself; it was said that
he had a brilliant career ahead of him. Perhaps he would not have felt this basic lack, or
superfluity, if it had not been for his wife. But with her he suffered. He had a sad
penchant for becoming enamoured of his wife's lovers.