The marine officer looked his astonishment.
“Yes,” Hal continued, “my friend and I”—he indicated Chester, who continued to sleep through the conversation—“have seen active service with most of the Allied forces.”
Smith held out a hand.
“I’m a veteran myself,” he said. “I’ve campaigned in the Philippines and in some of the South American troubles. Of course, I’ve never been mixed up in a scrap like this and I’ve a lot to learn. I’ll appreciate anything you can tell me.”
“It’s a little early in the morning for a talkfest,” said Hal with a smile, “but I’ve no doubt that when the sun comes up and we’ve had sleep a plenty and some good grub that I can entertain you a bit.”
“I’ll be all ears, as my friend Jenkins would say,” replied Smith. “Jenkins,” he explained, “is my bunkie—Lieutenant Jenkins, by the way.”
“Guess he’ll be back hunting his bed before long,” said Hal.
“Shouldn’t be surprised. Guess that’s him now,” he added, as footsteps approached without.
A moment later a second officer in Uncle Sam’s marine corps uniform entered the dugout.
“Meet my friend Lieutenant Paine, Jenkins,” said Smith. “He dropped in rather suddenly, Fritz having put his own bunk house out of business. I’ve invited him and his friend to spend the night with us. It won’t be the first time we have slept two in a bunk.”