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Updated: June 18, 2025
"Why don't you go?" asked Andrews, who stood on the outskirts with Fuselli and Chris. "Look at me...t. b.," said the lanky man. "Well, they can't get me over there soon enough," said Flannagan. "Must be funny not bein' able to understand what folks say. They say 'we' over there when they mean 'yes, a guy told me."
The tent was silent except for the fast patter of the rain and Bill Grey's coughing. "That sergeant gives me a pain in the neck," muttered Bill Grey peevishly, when his coughing had stopped, wriggling about under the blankets. After a while Fuselli said in a very low voice, so that no one but his friend should hear: "Say, Bill, ain't it different from what we thought it was going to be?" "Yare."
The M. P. spat disgustedly. "You fellers ain't never goin' to the front, don't you worry." "Hell!" said Fuselli. "I'll be goddamned if I don't get there somehow," said Bill Grey, squaring his jaw. A fine rain was falling on the unprotected platform. On the other side the little men in blue were singing a song Fuselli could not understand, drinking out of their ungainly-looking canteens.
Fuselli walked past them towards the town. "Say, Fuselli," shouted Meadville. "Corporal says hell's broke loose out there. We may smell gunpowder yet." Fuselli stopped and joined them. "I guess poor old Bill Grey's smelt plenty of gunpowder by this time," he said. "I wish I had gone with him," said Meadville.
The splash was lost in the sound of the waves and of churned water fleeing along the sides. Fuselli leaned over the rail and looked down at the faint phosphorescence that was the only light in the whole black gulf. He had never seen such darkness before.
Fuselli's eyes followed the curves of his brilliantly-polished puttees up to the braid on his sleeves. "Parade rest!" shouted the lieutenant in a muffled voice. Feet and hands moved in unison. Fuselli was thinking of the town.
"Well, I wonder if you knew a fellow I knew at training camp, a kid named Fuselli from 'Frisco?" "Knew him! Jesus, man, he's the best friend I've got.... Ye don't know where he is now, do you?" "I saw him here in Paris two months ago." "Well, I'll be damned.... God, that's great!" Al's voice was staccato from excitement. "So you knew Dan at training camp?
"Well, I'm goin' to get it, ain't I?" A staff car shot by, splashing them with mud, leaving them a glimpse of officers leaning back in the deep cushions. "You sure are," said the top sergeant in his good-natured voice. They had reached the square. They saluted stiffly as two officers brushed past them. "What's the regulations about a feller marryin' a French girl?" broke out Fuselli suddenly.
An' the loot was a hell of a blockhead that didn't know if he was coming or going." "Where the hell's Nantes?" asked the top sergeant, as if it had just slipped his mind. "On the coast," answered Fuselli. "I seen it on the map."
For a minute he thought it was a goldfish in a bowl, but it was a light that flickered in the ceiling. "Hello, Fuselli," said Eisenstein. "Feel all right?" "Sure," said Fuselli with a thick voice. "Why shouldn't I?" "How did you find that house?" said Eisenstein seriously. "Hell, I don't know," muttered Fuselli. "I'm goin' to sleep." His mind was a jumble.
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