In Dubious Battle

  The policeman maintained his position in front of them. "Got any money?"

  "You saw us buy a meal, didn't you? We got enough to keep out of jail on a vag charge."

  The policeman stood aside then. "Well, get going, and keep off the streets at night."

  "O.K., mister."

  They walked quickly on. Jim said, "You sure talked to him pretty, Mac."

  "Why not? That's the first lesson. Never argue with a cop, particularly at night. It'd be swell if we got thirty days for vagrancy right now, wouldn't it?"

  They hugged their denim clothes against their chests and hurried along the street, and the lights grew more infrequent.

  "How are you going to go about getting started?" Jim asked.

  "I don't know. We've got to use everything. Look, we start out with a general plan, but the details have to be worked out with any materials we can find. We use everything we can get hold of. That's the only thing we can do. We'll just look over the situation."

  Jim lengthened his stride with a drive of energy. "Well, let me do things, won't you, Mac? I don't want to be a stooge all my life."

  Mac laughed. "You'll get used, all right. You'll get used till you'll wish you was back in town with an eight-hour job."

  "No, I don't think I will, Mac. I never felt so good before. I'm all swelled up with a good feeling. Do you feel that way?"

  "Sometimes," said Mac. "Mostly I'm too damn busy to know how I feel."

  The buildings along the street were more dilapidated as they went. Welding works and used car lots and the great trash piles of auto-wrecking yards. The street lights shone on the blank, dead windows of old and neglected houses, and made shadows under shrubs that had gone to brush. The men walked quickly in the cool night air. "I think I see the bridge lights now," Jim said. "See those three lights on each side?"

  "I see 'em. Didn't he say turn left?"

  "Yeah, left."

  It was a two-span concrete bridge over a narrow river that was reduced at this season to a sluggish little creek in the middle of a sandy bed. Jim and Mac went to the left of the bridge ramp, and near the edge of the river bed they found the opening of a trail into the willows. Mac took the lead. In a moment they were out of range of the bridge lights, and the thick willow scrub was all about them. They could see the branches against the lighter sky, and, to the right, on the edge of the river bed, a dark wall of large cottonwoods.

  "I can't see this path," Mac said. "I'll just have to feel it with my feet." He moved carefully, slowly. "Hold up your arms to protect your face, Jim."

  "I am. I got switched right across the mouth a minute ago." For a while they felt their way along the hard, used trail. "I smell smoke," Jim said. "It can't be far now."

  Suddenly Mac stopped. "There's lights ahead. Listen, Jim, the same thing goes as back there. Let me do the talking."

  "O.K."

  The trail came abruptly into a large clearing, flickeringly lighted by a little bonfire. Along the farther side were three dirty white tents; and in one of them a light burned and huge black figures moved on the canvas. In the clearing itself there were perhaps fifty men, some sleeping on the ground in sausage rolls of blankets, while a number sat around the little fire in the middle of the flat cleared place. As Jim and Mac stepped clear of the willows they heard a short, sharp cry, quickly checked, which came from the lighted tent. Immediately the great shadows moved nervously on the canvas.

  "Somebody's sick," Mac said softly. "We didn't hear it yet. It pays to appear to mind your own business."

  They moved toward the fire, where a ring of men sat clasping their knees. "Can a guy join this club?" Mac asked, "or does he got to be elected?"

  The faces of the men were turned up at him, unshaven faces with eyes in which the firelight glowed. One of the men moved sideways to make room. "Ground's free, mister."

  Mac chuckled. "Not where I come from."

  A lean, lighted face across the fire spoke. "You come to a good place, fella. Everything's free here, food, liquor, automobiles, houses. Just move in and set down to a turkey dinner."

  Mac squatted and motioned Jim to sit beside him. He pulled out his sack of tobacco and made a careful, excellent cigarette; then, as an afterthought, "Would any of you capitalists like a smoke?"

  Several hands thrust out. The bag went from man to man. "Just get in?" the lean face asked.

  "Just. Figure to pick a few apples and retire on my income."

  Lean-face burst out angrily. "Know what they're payin', fella? Fifteen cents, fifteen lousy cents!"

  "Well, what do you want?" Mac demanded. "Jesus Christ, man! You ain't got the nerve to say you want to eat? You can eat an apple while you're workin'. All them nice apples!" His tone grew hard. "S'pose we don't pick them apples?"

  Lean-face cried, "We got to pick 'em. Spent every Goddamn cent gettin' here."

  Mac repeated softly, "All them nice apples. If we don't pick 'em, they'll rot."

  "If we don't pick 'em, somebody else will."

  "S'pose we didn't let nobody else pick?" Mac said.

  The men about the fire grew tense. "You mean--strike?" Lean-face asked.

  Mac laughed. "I don't mean nothin'."

  A short man who rested his chin between his knees said, "When London found out what they was payin' he damn near had a stroke." He turned to the man next to him. "You seen him, Joe. Didn't he damn near have a stroke?"

  "Turned green," said Joe. "Just stood there and turned green. Picked up a stick and bust it to splinters in his hands."

  The bag of tobacco came back to its starting place, but there was not much left in it. Mac felt it with his fingers and then put it in his pocket. "Who's London?" he asked.

  Lean-face answered him. "London's a good guy--a big guy. We travel with him. He's a big guy."

  "The boss, huh?"

  "Well, no, he ain't a boss, but he's a good guy. We kind of travel with him. You ought to hear him talk to a cop. He----

  The cry came from the tent again, more prolonged this time. The men turned their heads toward it, and then looked apathetically back at the fire.

  "Somebody sick?" Mac asked.

  "London's daughter'n-law. She's havin' a kid."

  Mac said, "This ain't no place t'have a kid. They got a doctor?"

  "Hell no! Where'd they get a doctor?"

  "Why'n't they take her to the county, hospital?"

  Lean-face scoffed. "They won't have no crop tramps in the county hospital. Don't you know that? They got no room. Always full-up."

  "I know it," said Mac. "I just wondered if you did."

  Jim shivered and picked up a little willow stick and thrust the end into the coals until it flared into flame. Mac's hand came stealing out of the darkness and took his arm for a moment, and gripped it.

  Mac asked, "They got anybody that knows anything about it?"

  "Got an old woman," Lean-face said. His eyes turned suspicious under the questioning. "Say, what's it to you?"

  "I had some training," Mac explained casually. "I know something about it. Thought I might help out."

  "Well, go see London." Lean-face shucked off responsibility. "It ain't none of our business to answer questions about him."

  Mac ignored the suspicion. "Guess I will." He stood up. "Come on, Jim. Is London in that tent with the light?"

  "Yeah, that's him."

  A circle of lighted faces watched Jim and Mac walk away, and then the heads swung back to the fire again. The two men picked their way across the clearing, avoiding the bundles of cloth that were sleeping men.

  Mac whispered, "What a break! If I can pull it off, we're started."

  "What do you mean? Mac, I didn't know you had medical training."

  "A whole slough of people don't know it," said Mac. They approached the tent, where dark figures moved about on the canvas. Mac stepped close and called, "London."

  Almost instantly the tent-flap bellied and a large man stepped out. His shoulders were immense. Stiff dark hair grew in a tonsu
re, leaving the top of the head perfectly bald. His face was corded with muscular wrinkles and his dark eyes were as fierce and red as those of a gorilla. A power of authority was about the man. It could be felt that he led men as naturally as he breathed. With one big hand he held the tent-flap closed behind him. "What you want?" he demanded.

  "We just got in," Mac explained. "Some guys over by the fire says there was a girl havin' a baby."

  "Well, what of it?"

  "I thought I might help out as long as you got no doctor."

  London opened the flap and let a streak of light fall on Mac's face. "What you think you can do?"

  "I worked in hospitals," Mac said. "I done this before. It don't pay to take no chances, London."

  The big man's voice dropped. "Come on in," he said. "We got an old woman here, but I think she's nuts. Come in and take a look." He held up the tent-flap for them to enter.

  Inside it was crowded and very hot. A candle burned in a saucer. In the middle of the tent stood a stove made of a kerosene can, and beside it sat an old and wrinkled woman. A white-faced boy stood in one corner of the tent. Along the rear wall an old mattress was laid on the ground, and on this lay a young girl, her face pale and streaked with brown dirt, her hair matted. The eyes of all three turned to Mac and Jim. The old woman looked up for a moment and then dropped her eyes to the red-hot stove. She scratched the back of one hand with the nails of the other.

  London walked over to the mattress and kneeled down beside it. The girl pulled her frightened eyes from Mac and looked at London. He said, "We got a doctor here now. You don't need to be scared no more."

  Mac looked down at her and winked. Her face was stiff with fright. The boy came over from his corner and pawed Mac's shoulder. "She gonna be all right, Doc?"

  "Sure, she's O.K."

  Mac turned to the old woman. "You a midwife?"

  She scratched the backs of her wrinkled hands and looked vacantly up at him, but she didn't answer. "I asked if you was a midwife?" he cried.

  "No--but I've took one or two babies in my life."

  Mac reached down and picked up one of her hands and held the lighted candle close to it. The nails were long and broken and dirty, and the hands were bluish-grey. "You've took some dead ones, then," he said. "What was you goin' to use for cloths?"

  The old woman pointed to a pile of newspapers. "Lisa ain't had but two pains," she whined. "We got papers to catch the mess."

  London leaned forward, his mouth slightly open with attention, his eyes searching Mac's eyes. The tonsure shone in the candle-light. He corroborated the old woman. "Lisa had two pains, just finished one."

  Mac made a little gesture toward the outside with his head. He went out through the tent-flap and London and Jim followed him. "Listen," he said to London, "you seen them hands. The kid might live if he's grabbed with hands like that, but the girl don't stand a hell of a chance. You better kick that old girl out."

  "You do the job then?" London demanded.

  Mac was silent for a moment. "Sure I'll do it. Jim, here'll help me some; but I got to have more help, a whole hell of a lot more help."

  "Well, I'll give you a hand," London said.

  "That ain't enough. Will any of the guys out there give a hand?"

  London laughed shortly. "You damn right they will if I tell 'em."

  "Well, you tell 'em, then," Mac said. "Tell 'em now." He led the way to the little fire, around which the circle of men still sat. They looked up as the three approached.

  Lean-face said, "Hello, London."

  London spoke loudly. "I want you guys should listen to Doc, here." A few other men strolled up and stood waiting. They were listless and apathetic, but they came to the voice of authority.

  Mac cleared his throat. "London's got a daughter'n-law, and she's goin' to have a baby. He tried to get her in the county hospital, but they wouldn't take her. They're full up, and besides we're a bunch of lousy crop tramps. O.K. They won't help us. We got to do it ourselves."

  The men seemed to stiffen a little, to draw together. The apathy began to drop from them. They hunched closer to the fire. Mac went on, "Now I worked in hospitals, so I can help, but I need you guys to help too. Christ, we got to stand by our own people. Nobody else will."

  Lean-face boosted himself up. "All right, fella," he said. "What do you want us to do?"

  In the firelight Mac's face broke into a smile of pleasure and of triumph. "Swell!" he said. "You guys know how to work together. Now first we got to have water boiling. When it's boiling, we got to get white cloth into it, and boil the cloth. I don't care where you get the cloth, or how you get it." He pointed out three men. "Now you, and you and you get a big fire going. And you get a couple of big kettles. There ought to be some five-gallon cans around. The rest of you gather up cloth; get anything, handkerchiefs, old shirts--anything, as long as it's white. When you get the water boiling, put the cloth in and keep it boiling for half an hour. I want a little pot of hot water as quick as I can get it." The men were beginning to get restive. Mac said, "Wait. One more thing. I want a lamp, a good one. Some of you guys get me one. If nobody'll give you one, steal it. I got to have light."

  A change was in the air. The apathy was gone from the men. Sleepers were awakened and told, and added themselves to the group. A current of excitement filled the jungle, but a kind of joyful excitement. Fires were built up. Four big cans of water were put on to boil; and then cloth began to appear. Every man seemed to have something to add to the pile. One took off his undershirt and threw it into the water and then put on his shirt again. The men seemed suddenly happy. They laughed together as they broke dead cottonwood branches for the fire.

  Jim stood beside Mac, watching the activity. "What do you want me to do?" he asked.

  "Come in with me. You can help me in the tent." At that moment a cry came from the tent. Mac said quickly, "Bring me a can of hot water as quick as you can, Jim. Here," he held out a little bottle. "Put about four of these tablets in each of those big cans. Bring the bottle back to me when you bring the water." He hurried away toward the tent.

  Jim counted the tablets into the cans, and then he scooped a large bucketful of water from one of them and followed Mac into the tent. The old woman was crouched in a corner, out of the way. She scratched her hands and peered out suspiciously while Mac dropped two of the tablets into the warm water and dipped his hands into it. "We can anyway get our hands clean," he said.

  "What's the bottle?"

  "Bichloride of mercury. I always take it with me. Here, you wash your hands, Jim, and then get some fresh water."

  A voice outside the tent called, "Here's your lamps, Doc."

  Mac went to the flap and brought them back, a round-wick Rochester lamp and a powerful gasoline lantern. "Some poor devil's going to do his milking in the dark," he said to Jim. He pumped up pressure in the gasoline lamp, and when he lighted it the mantles glared, a hard, white light, and the lantern's hiss filled the tent. The crack of breaking wood and the sound of voices came in from outside.

  Mac set his lantern down beside the mattress. "Going to be all right, Lisa," he said. Gently he tried to lift the dirty quilt which covered her. London and the white-faced boy looked on. In a panic of modesty Lisa held the quilt down about her. "Come on, Lisa, I've got to get you ready," Mac said persuasively. Still she clutched at the quilt.

  London stepped over. "Lisa," he said. "You do it." Her frightened eyes swung to London, and then reluctantly she let go her hold on the quilt. Mac folded it back over her breast and unbuttoned her cotton underwear. "Jim," he called. "Go out and fish me a piece of cloth and get me some soap."

  When Jim had brought him a steaming cloth and a thin, hard piece of soap, Mac washed the legs and thighs and stomach. He worked so gently that some of the fear left Lisa's face.

  The men brought in the boiled cloths.

  The pains came quicker and quicker.

  It was dawn when the birth started. Once the tent shook violently. Mac looked ove
r his shoulder. "London, your kid's fainted," he said. "Better take him out in the air." With a look of profound embarrassment London slung the frail boy over his shoulder and carried him out.

  The baby's head appeared. Mac supported it with his hands, and while Lisa squealed weakly, the birth was completed. Mac cut the cord with a sterilized pocket-knife.

  The sun shone on the canvas and the lantern hissed on. Jim wrung out the warm cloths and handed them to Mac when he washed the shrunken little baby. And Jim washed and scrubbed the hands of the old woman before Mac let her take the baby. An hour later the placenta came, and Mac carefully washed Lisa again. "Now get all this mess out," he told London. "Burn all these rags."

  London asked, "Even the cloths you didn't use?"

  "Yep. Burn it all. It's no good." His eyes were tired. He took a last look around the tent. The old woman held the wrapped baby in her arms. Lisa's eyes were closed and she breathed quietly on her mattress. "Come on, Jim. Let's get some sleep."

  In the clearing the men were sleeping again. The sun shone on the tops of the willows. Mac and Jim crawled into a little cave in the undergrowth and lay down together.

  Jim said, "My eyes feel sandy. I'm tired. I never knew you worked in a hospital, Mac."

  Mac crossed his hands behind his head. "I never did."

  "Well, where did you learn about births?"

  "I never learned till now. I never saw one before. The only thing I knew was that it was a good idea to be clean. God, I was lucky it came through all right. If anything'd happened, we'd've been sunk. That old woman knew lots more than I did. I think she knew it, too."

  "You acted sure enough," Jim said.

  "Well, Christ Almighty, I had to! We've got to use whatever material comes to us. That was a lucky break. We simply had to take it. 'Course it was nice to help the girl, but hell, even if it killed her--we've got to use anything." He turned on his side and pillowed his head on his arm. "I'm all in, but I feel good. With one night's work we've got the confidence of the men and the confidence of London. And more than that, we made the men work for themselves, in their own defense, as a group. That's what we're out here for anyway, to teach them to fight in a bunch. Raising wages isn't all we're after. You know all that."

  "Yes," Jim said. "I knew that, but I didn't know how you were going to go about it."

  "Well, there's just one rule--use whatever material you've got. We've got no machine guns and troops. Tonight was good; the material was ready, and we were ready. London's with us. He's the natural leader. We'll teach him where to lead. Got to go awful easy, though. Leadership has to come from the men. We can teach them method, but they've got to do the job themselves. Pretty soon we'll start teaching method to London, and he can teach it to the men under him. You watch," Mac said, "the story of last night will be all over the district by tonight. We got our oar in already, and it's better than I hoped. We might go to the can later for practicing medicine without a license, but that would only tie the men closer to us."