Three Soldiers | Page 4

certain pride. "I used to go with a Portugee
girl. My but she was a toughie. I've given all that up now I'm engaged,
though.... But I was tellin' ye.... Well, we finally made up an' I kissed
her an' Mabe said she'd never marry any one but me. So when we was
walkin" up the street I spied a silk service flag in a winder, that was all
fancy with a star all trimmed up to beat the band, an' I said to myself,
I'm goin' to give that to Mabe, an' I ran in an' bought it. I didn't give a

hoot in hell what it cost. So when we was all kissin' and bawlin' when I
was goin' to leave them to report to the overseas detachment, I shoved
it into her hand, an' said, 'Keep that, girl, an' don't you forgit me.' An'
what did she do but pull out a five-pound box o' candy from behind her
back an' say, 'Don't make yerself sick, Dan.' An' she'd had it all the time
without my knowin' it. Ain't girls clever?"
"Yare," said the tall youth vaguely.

Along the rows of cots, when Fuselli got back to the barracks, men
were talking excitedly.
"There's hell to pay, somebody's broke out of the jug."
"How?"
"Damned if I know."
"Sergeant Timmons said he made a rope of his blankets."
"No, the feller on guard helped him to get away."
"Like hell he did. It was like this. I was walking by the guardhouse
when they found out about it."
"What company did he belong ter?"
"Dunno."
"What's his name?"
"Some guy on trial for insubordination. Punched an officer in the jaw."
"I'd a liked to have seen that."
"Anyhow he's fixed himself this time."
"You're goddam right."

"Will you fellers quit talkin'? It's after taps," thundered the sergeant,
who sat reading the paper at a little board desk at the door of the
barracks under the feeble light of one small bulb, carefully screened.
"You'll have the O. D. down on us."
Fuselli wrapped the blanket round his head and prepared to sleep.
Snuggled down into the blankets on the narrow cot, he felt sheltered
from the sergeant's thundering voice and from the cold glare of officers'
eyes. He felt cosy and happy like he had felt in bed at home, when he
had been a little kid. For a moment he pictured to himself the other man,
the man who had punched an officer's jaw, dressed like he was, maybe
only nineteen, the same age like he was, with a girl like Mabe waiting
for him somewhere. How cold and frightful it must feel to be out of the
camp with the guard looking for you! He pictured himself running
breathless down a long street pursued by a company with guns, by
officers whose eyes glinted cruelly like the pointed tips of bullets. He
pulled the blanket closer round his head, enjoying the warmth and
softness of the wool against his cheek. He must remember to smile at
the sergeant when he passed him off duty. Somebody had said there'd
be promotions soon. Oh, he wanted so hard to be promoted. It'd be so
swell if he could write back to Mabe and tell her to address her letters
Corporal Dan Fuselli. He must be more careful not to do anything that
would get him in wrong with anybody. He must never miss an
opportunity to show them what a clever kid he was. "Oh, when we're
ordered overseas, I'll show them," he thought ardently, and picturing to
himself long movie reels of heroism he went off to sleep.
A sharp voice beside his cot woke him with a jerk.
"Get up, you."
The white beam of a pocket searchlight was glaring in the face of the
man next to him.
"The O. D." said Fuselli to himself.
"Get up, you," came the sharp voice again.

The man in the next cot stirred and opened his eyes.
"Get up."
"Here, sir," muttered the man in the next cot, his eyes blinking sleepily
in the glare of the flashlight. He got out of bed and stood unsteadily at
attention.
"Don't you know better than to sleep in your O. D. shirt? Take it off."
"Yes, sir."
"What's your name?"
The man looked up, blinking, too dazed to speak. "Don't know your
own name, eh?" said the officer, glaring at the man savagely, using his
curt voice like a whip.--"Quick, take off yer shirt and pants and get
back to bed."
The Officer of the Day moved on, flashing his light to one side and the
other in his midnight inspection of the barracks. Intense blackness
again, and the sound of men breathing deeply in sleep, of men snoring.
As he