Durieux unbuttoned the right breast pocket of his parachute smock , his fingers fumbling with the stiffness of the new canvas .sx 'This is my party card,' he said , holding it high , that all might see it .sx 'I am more proud of this card than of this badge .sx ' When he said this , Durieux tapped the silver-nickel badge that was pinned to the flap of his right breast pocket .sx The badge consisted of an opened parachute flanked by wings .sx Cynics said the wings had been added to remind the wearer that he might one day have need of them , for parachute-packing is not an exact science , and parachute packers have been known to err .sx The badge meant that Durieux's parachute had six times successfully responded to his pull at the ripcord , with himself dangling from the rigging lines , fluttering to earth like an autumn leaf discarded from the military tree .sx 'Is it a real party card ?sx ' asked Rossi .sx 'It's not like any party card that I ever saw .sx I'll bet it's a forgery .sx ' 'See for yourself,' shouted Durieux , thrusting the card close to the Corsican's face .sx Rossi spat very deliberately , and very messily , upon Durieux's party card .sx The other paras , who had guessed what was to come , shouted with laughter .sx 'I'm going to make you lick that card clean,' said Durieux .sx He reached down for the nape of Rossi's neck with his left hand .sx His intention was to force the Corsican's nose into the spittle .sx But Rossi jerked Durieux's heels from beneath him .sx Durieux pitched forward , falling over Rossi .sx Durieux could have clutched at Rossi to save himself , but he still held on to the party card and would not let it go .sx The restraining hands of two paras , one at either side of Rossi , were all that saved Durieux from falling into the fire .sx One of the paras who held Durieux spun him roughly about , so that he stumbled away from the fire .sx His first concern was for the party card .sx It was scorched- as were the fingers that held it- and Rossi's spittle was bubbling on the cardboard .sx Durieux wiped the card clean , using great care , with his handkerchief .sx He placed the card back in his breast pocket and buttoned it beneath the parachute badge .sx Only then did he return to Rossi , who was still lying beside the fire .sx 'Now you won't be able to make me lick it off,' said Rossi .sx 'I'll do better than that,' promised Durieux .sx 'Get up , Rossi .sx ' 'Enchanted by the invitation , comrade Durieux .sx ' Rossi arose with the muscular tension of a caged leopard at feeding time .sx Durieux almost regretted having issued the invitation .sx Rossi was tall , but he did not tower above Durieux ; he was broad , yet not significantly wider than Durieux ; but he was unmistakably the more aggressive .sx Looking at Rossi , Durieux could not believe that his opponent possessed the fighting instincts of a mere man :sx it was as though the Corsican belonged spiritually to another species .sx The leopard-skin pattern upon his parachute smock might have been an outward expression of his character .sx Yet Durieux was no coward , nor was he easily intimidated .sx So he fired his right fist into Rossi's face and caught the Corsican on the mouth .sx His knuckles made a wooden sound against Rossi's teeth .sx Rossi rode the blow , swaying back from the hips upon which his hands still rested , but his lips split like an over-ripe tomato .sx Blood flowed from them and ran down his chin like wine .sx Rossi ran his tongue over the blood :sx he seemed to savour the taste ; he was smiling .sx Then Rossi struck Durieux a terrible blow that landed midway between crutch and waist .sx Durieux had never been hit so hard before , though he had become an amateur boxer in his student days in order to gain popularity and engender self-confidence .sx But he had never even imagined that it was possible to be hit so hard .sx The blow took all pleasure out of anger , out of fighting , out of life itself .sx Durieux's head went down until it was level with his knees .sx He folded up so fast that Rossi's second blow- a right cross- landed on his temple .sx Instead of breaking Durieux's jaw , as Rossi had intended it should , the blow split his scalp .sx He was felled to the ground as a bullock is felled by a humane killer .sx His head suddenly became enormous and empty :sx the echoes of the blow rang through his brain like the angelus bell in a church tower .sx He felt the blood move stickily from his split scalp and trickle down his forehead .sx He felt as though all feelings were at an end .sx Then Durieux realized that he was still capable of having such primitive feeling as pain .sx He could still hear , despite the sounding in his ears , despite the lights behind his eyes , despite the knotted cramp of his intestines .sx And Durieux became intensely relieved that he could still experience these things .sx If he hits me like that again , thought Durieux , he will undoubtedly kill me .sx If by chance he does not kill me I shall be crippled for life .sx Even if he fails to kill or cripple me I shall be permanently disfigured .sx None of these things is going to help propagate Marxist-Leninist doctrines .sx Therefore , Durieux continued when he could hear himself thinking , I must somehow save myself .sx The best thing I can do is lie still and let him think that he has knocked me out .sx If everyone believes that Rossi has knocked me out they will not expect me to get up and fight him again .sx The fight is over .sx Even the best boxers get themselves knocked out , especially by a lucky blow .sx There is no dishonour in that .sx I struck the first blow .sx I have shown them all that I am not afraid of Rossi .sx I was disabled by a foul blow and knocked out by a lucky blow .sx It was almost an accident .sx I have now earned my place by the fire .sx I believe that I really must have been knocked out .sx I am only just coming to my senses .sx That is why I am only now able to think clearly .sx I was knocked out , but I bear Rossi no ill-will .sx The fight is finished .sx 'He's shamming,' said Rossi .sx 'He's shagged,' said someone .sx 'Balls,' said Rossi .sx 'I was playing with him .sx I only used my fists .sx I want to have some fun out of this fight .sx It's a long time since I fought a Viet .sx ' 'He isn't a Viet,' said someone else .sx 'He's only a commie .sx ' 'Viet or commie,' said Rossi , 'I'm going to beat the crap out of him .sx I'll teach the depot to send us commies .sx ' 'They probably didn't know he was a commie,' said someone else .sx 'You know how the bastards infiltrate .sx ' 'They'll know he's a commie when I've finished with him,' said Rossi .sx Durieux felt a sudden pain in his side ; and he was flung over on his back .sx The kick had landed sickeningly just below his ribs .sx Durieux was relieved that Rossi was wearing rubber-soled jumping boots and not the steel-tipped infantry issue .sx 'Don't kick him,' said a voice , Marechal's voice .sx 'He's a subversive,' said Rossi .sx 'I could kick him to death and get congratulated for it .sx I caught him encouraging us to read left-wing journals , didn't I ?sx Wasn't he about to encourage us lads to desert ?sx ' 'That's a load of bull,' said Marechal .sx 'You needled him until he produced his party card .sx ' 'I knew he was a commie,' said Rossi .sx 'I can smell the bastards out as surely as I can smell the bogs .sx ' 'Perhaps he's an ex-commie now,' said someone .sx 'It looks as though you did him in .sx ' 'He's firing at the flank,' said Rossi .sx 'He's been shamming for a long time then,' said someone else .sx 'Not everyone has a head as thick as yours , Rossi .sx ' 'I'll hold a light under his mug and see if he moves,' said Rossi .sx Durieux could smell the brand from the fire as Rossi approached him .sx It was so close that he inhaled the sweet smoke , and felt the heat glow against his eyelids .sx He decided that it was time to groan as a preliminary to feigning a return to consciousness .sx Rossi kicked him again , but mildly this time , an exploratory kick .sx Durieux raised his head slightly , let it loll back , and opened his eyes .sx Rossi threw the blazing brand back into the fire .sx Durieux groaned again .sx He rolled his eyes and raised himself on one elbow .sx The recovery , he decided , must be very gradual ; otherwise Rossi might take it as an invitation to renew the fight .sx He groaned and sank back again .sx 'Commies,' said Rossi .sx 'I could crap a better commie .sx ' Marechal stood up and walked over to where Durieux lay .sx He was carrying his canteen and he offered it to Durieux .sx 'Drink this,' said Marechal .sx 'He doesn't drink,' said Rossi in a mincing voice .sx 'And it's quite possible that he doesn't poke either .sx ' 'He'll learn to do both,' said Marechal .sx 'And to fight .sx He's got a lot to learn .sx ' Durieux took the canteen , not because he wanted to drink , but because to lie there drinking would prolong the period before he must rise .sx So he drank slowly .sx He found that he was drinking neat pastis .sx The liquorice taste was unmistakable even though he had not tasted it before .sx He spluttered and coughed as the liquid ran down his throat and surged into his stomach .sx But he suddenly felt a great deal better .sx This stuff is liquid fire , thought Durieux .sx It's like napalm .sx What do you know of napalm ?sx he asked himself out of journalistic habit .sx Nothing , he admitted , or very little , but I'd like to have some for Rossi , he told himself .sx I'd like to see that bastard burn .sx 'Go easy with that stuff , man , if you aren't used to it,' he heard Marechal warning him .sx 'It will do him good,' said Rossi .sx 'It may even put some guts into the miserable little sod .sx ' Accepting this as encouragement , Durieux took another long drink from the canteen before returning it to Marechal .sx Then he looked directly at Rossi .sx Durieux forced himself to be no longer afraid of Rossi .sx 'Shut your dirty trap , Rossi , or I'll shut it for you,' he announced .sx 'Want some more ?sx ' 'I'll smash your mug in,' said Durieux .sx He lurched to his feet and as suddenly sat down again , for the ground appeared to rise with him .sx He got to his knees and became conscious of pain where Rossi had struck the blow .sx Durieux fell forward and was violently sick in the fire :sx yellow bile that bubbled and spluttered .sx Everything tasted and stank of aniseed .sx But when he had wiped his mouth with the back of his hand , Durieux felt much better .sx 'Now I'll finish him off,' said Rossi .sx 'Shut up,' said Marechal .sx 'He's beaten up already .sx Leave the poor bastard be .sx What's the matter with you , man ?sx Can't you find anyone of your own weight to fight ?sx ' 'Are you looking for a boy beneath your blanket ?sx ' asked Rossi .sx 'You know me,' said Marechal .sx 'Why else should anyone want to protect a commie from what's coming to him ?sx ' asked Rossi .sx Durieux had at last succeeded in staying on his feet .sx The stars of the African night were duplicated in his head .sx The pastis had entered his blood stream .sx 'I'm going to have your guts for a tie,' he told Rossi .sx 'He's as pissed as a Pole,' said Marechal .sx 'I can lick any man in this stick,' announced Rossi .sx 'Except me,' Marechal reminded him .sx 'I can lick you in a stand up and smash down fight,' shouted Rossi .sx 'Who cares about wrestling ?sx ' 'I care , man,' said Marechal .sx 'I like to wrestle sometimes .sx ' 'I'm going to do you both,' announced Durieux , approaching them at a stagger .sx 'I'm going to do the whole world .sx ' 'You're too ambitious,' said Marechal .sx 'Has anyone got some black coffee ?sx ' Someone handed over a mug of black coffee and Marechal gave it to Durieux .sx Durieux spilled some of the coffee down the front of his uniform ; it mingled with the stains of his blood , now drying out brown , and merged well with the dapple-camouflage pattern .sx