Free A Bell for Adano by John Hersey Page A

she took out. There is the wedding at Cana where the water turned to wine. Now, all the people in all these pictures are fat people. I do not believe that this is sacrilege, even though Jesus himself is fat on my cart. It is simply that I told Lojacono Arturo, who painted the cart, to make all the people fat, like me and my Elisabetta, because mine was a cart for food, to make other people fat and Jovial, though they might have a certain amount of hard breathing.”
    The Major said: “This is a waste of time.” But Basile could see, and the other two could see, that the Major was nearly persuaded by this time-wasting talk.
    Basile pressed on: “How can I drive my cart now, even in the country? How can I put my fat horse, whose name is General Eisenhower in honor of our deliverer, between the shafts, and put my fat self on the seat, and drive around with my pictures of fat and holy people - when the people of Adano are starving, Mister Major? This fills me with shame, even though I cannot bring the cart into town.”
    And then, with great craft, Basile said: “There is nothing in all the proclamations, even though it takes you a week to read them, which says that the Americans came to Adano in order to make people die of hunger. And there is nothing in all the proclamations which refers to such things as the dead mule of Errante Gaetano. Why then do we have this thing of the carts?”
    The Major said to himself in English: “Damn.”
    He reached for the field telephone, cranked the handle and said: “Give me Rowboat Blue Forward.” While he waited for an answer, the Major said to Basile gruffly: “Sit down.
    “Hello. This Rowboat Blue Forward? Captain Purvis, please...
    “Purvis? Joppolo. Listen...
    “No, now this is serious, Purvis. This thing about the carts. I’ve made up my mind. By one sentence General Marvin destroyed the work of nine days in this town. I know it may mean a court martial, but I’ve decided to countermand his order. What?...
    “I know I’m taking a hell of a chance, but I’ve got to do it. We can’t let these people starve...
    “I have to do it, Purvis. This town is dying. No food can get into the town if the carts don’t come. The town depends on the carts for water: there isn’t any running water here, you know that. The people can’t go out into the fields to work in the morning. Taking carts away from this town is like taking automobiles away from a country town in the States. You just can’t do it all at once. People will die. I’m not here to kill people.”
    Captain Purvis evidently put up an argument.
    Finally the Major said: “Purvis, I order you, on my authority, to start letting carts back into the town, beginning now. I take absolute and complete responsibility for countermanding General Marvin’s order...
    “Listen friend, if we never took chances around here, this place would go right on being a Fascism. All right, the hell with you, it’s on my responsibility.”
    The three cartmen sat through the telephone conversation not comprehending. To judge by their faces they seemed to think that Major Joppolo was devising some punishment for them. They had the habit of fear, and they thought that this man of authority would of course be exactly like the men of authority they had known for so long.
    Major Joppolo hung up. He turned to the three cartmen and said: “You may bring your carts into the town.” For a long moment they did not understand. Then they stood up and began shouting and waving their caps.
    “We thank you, we thank you and we kiss your hand,” they roared.
    “Oh, Mister Major, there has never been a thing like this,” the fat one named Basile shouted, “that the poor should come to the Palazzo di Cittá, and that their request should be granted.”
    “Especially,” shouted the loud one named Afronti, “especially without a wait of two to three weeks.”
    “It was not necessary to write you a letter,” Basile shouted.
    “The police did not even