In dubious battle by John Steinbeck & Warren G. French

Author:John Steinbeck & Warren G. French [Steinbeck, John & French, Warren G.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: General, Literary, Fiction, Classics, Political, Political fiction, California, Migrant agricultural laborers, Strikes and lockouts, Apple growers, Labor movement
ISBN: 9780143039631
Publisher: Penguin Group
Published: 2006-11-15T05:00:00+00:00

10

AN apathy had fallen on the men. They sat staring in front of them. They seemed not to have the energy to talk, and among them the bedraggled, discontented women sat. They were listless and stale. They gnawed thoughtfully at their meat, and when it was finished, wiped their hands on their clothes. The air was full of their apathy, and full of their discontent.

Mac, walking through the camp with Jim, grew discontented, too. “They ought to be doing something,” Mac complained. “I don’t care what it is. We can’t let ’em sit around like this. Our strike’ll go right out from under us. Christ, what’s the matter with ’em? They had a man killed this morning; that ought to keep ’em going. Now it’s just after noon, and they’re slumped already. We got to get them working at something. Look at their eyes, Jim.”

“They’re not looking at anything—they’re just staring.”

“Yeah, they’re thinking of themselves. Every man there is thinkin’ how hurt he is, or how much money he made during the war. Just like Anderson. They’re falling apart.”

“Well, let’s do something. Let’s make them move. What is there to do?”

“I don’t know. If we could make ’em dig a hole, it’d be as good as anything else. If we can just get ’em all pushing on something, or lifting something, or all walking in one direction—doesn’t matter a hell of a lot. They’ll start fighting each other if we don’t move ’em. They’ll begin to get mean, pretty soon.”

London, hurrying past, caught the last words. “Who’s goin’ to get mean?”

Mac turned around. “Hello, London. We been talkin’ about these here guys. They’re all fallin’ to pieces.”

“I know it. I been around with these stiffs long enough to tell.”

“Well, I just said they’d start fightin’, if we didn’t put ’em to work.”

“They already did. That bunch we left in camp this morning had a fuss. One of the guys tried to make another guy’s woman. An’ the first guy come in an’ stuck him with a pair of scissors. Doc fixed him up. He like to bled to death, I guess.”

“You see, Jim? I told you. Listen, London, Dakin’s sore at me. He don’t want to listen to nothing I tell him, but he’ll listen to you. We got to move these guys before they get into trouble. Make ’em march in a circle—make ’em dig a hole and then fill it up. It don’t make no difference.”

“I know it. Well, how about picketin’?”

“Swell, but I don’t think there’s much work goin’ on yet.”

“What do we care, if it moves the guys off their ass.”

“You got a head, London. See if you can get Dakin to send ’em out, about fifty in a bunch, out in different directions. Let ’em keep to the roads, and if they see any apple pickin’, let ’em break it up.”

“Sure I will,” London said, and he turned and walked toward Dakin’s brown tent.

Jim began, “Mac, you said I could go out with the pickets.”

“Well, I’d rather have you with me.

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