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Updated: June 1, 2025
Dabnitz returned, bringing a pair of saddle bags. "They're Mr. Mowbray's," he said. "His horse got loose and tangled himself in a battery. One of the men brought in the bags." "Thanks, Lieutenant," said Boylan. Dabnitz started to the door when Boylan called, "Oh, I say, did you look through 'em?" The Russian smiled deprecatingly. "Of course, I needn't have asked that, but I wanted you to.
"So are we. It's up to him to-day. We're a mere wisp of what we were " Boylan simulated interest. There was but one idea in his world, however. "By the way," Dabnitz added. "The Commander asked for full particulars this morning at three. They were sent to him Mr. Mowbray's case " Boylan jerked up his chin. Of late, his woolen collar had apparently shrunk. "You haven't heard yet?" "Not yet.
"Wait," Boylan said finally to Dabnitz. "Here's your gun, Lieutenant. I'm obliged to you. You'll know better some day what I mean by that " "Keep them under cover," Dabnitz said hoarsely. "I'll kill you or any of the others that I see in the street." "You'd be quite right." Dabnitz turned away. Big Belt deliberated. He did not quite trust the Russian.
I saw him getting whiter and whiter like your face and looking into his victim's eyes in that queer surprised way you looked at Dabnitz. It wasn't in the field; in a city bar-room. I didn't look for what happened but I knew something was coming. The fool went on talking, talking. The other watched him, and when all the blood was burned out of him....Great God, here I am talking blood "
You don't catch many of them in the ranks " "Perhaps they would rather tend the wounded than to make the wounds." Dabnitz smiled cheerfully. "They're afraid of their hides. When a man does a lot of talking, he is generally shy on action " Peter saw the ease of the acceptance of this view on the part of the others; saw how clearly it was the view of the military man.
"Poltneck perhaps, but I've seen him with the Imperial orchestra or I'm losing memory. I didn't have a good look at him before " Dabnitz was called by the General, who was seated with Doltmir over a small collation with wine and bread. The lieutenant was requested to arrange the inspiration for the men in the trenches.
Darkness was thickening before the Lieutenant came in. "Where's Mowbray?" Dabnitz came close and looked at the other sorrowfully. "How long have you known Mr. Mowbray?" Boylan tried to think. His faculties were at large. Facts, however, hadn't anything to do with the reality. Peter Mowbray was his own property. He said as much, his voice going back on him. "Mr.
"I wasn't out in that service," Dabnitz observed. "Grand little bunch of celibates afield, those Japanese religious about these matters of using up hostile ammunition. Fact is, I never saw white troops go out to a finish four times in one day as yours did to-day out over their own dead, too "
And a bit of a sword? I'll take that, too. ...I won't be long, Dabnitz." He went forth carrying the paper. "Lieutenant was called to another task," he said haltingly to the enlisted officer in charge. "Hold your men here, until I come " The firing was intense valleyward. Boylan felt the need of thinking further and dashed into the headquarters' stairway.
Presently it occupied the steady swift attention of a stenographer whose pages were put on the machine and handed in strips to the staff members, like a last-minute news story to compositors. ...One of the hardest things Boylan ever did was to speak to Dabnitz as follows: "I'd better be there if you take the others and leave leave Peter Mowbray. He's impulsive. You wouldn't want a scene you know "
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