The Conscript, gazing at the curling trees in the mist: Search me! Religion never bothered me much; and just now I'm sorry.
The Marine: Sorry, hell! Cut out the regrets. If you hadn't give that guy your canteen we might ha' lasted till morning.
The Conscript: If you hadn't crawled to help prop him up, your tourniquet might not have given way—
Suddenly startled, both men turn their heads. Before them appears the figure of a man, nearly naked, an open wound in his side; he is regarding them attentively.
The Marine: Hullo! Where in hell did you come from—front lines? Sit down and take it easy; no Croy Rouge nor nothin' here to hurry you. Got it bad?
The Conscript: Here's an extra first-aid packet—better stop the bleeding.
The naked man moves closer, but refuses the proffered packet.
The Naked Man: Thank you, brother, but it would do me no good.
The Marine: I guess you're right there. Bayonet, hey? Jabbed up an' got you.
The Naked Man: I've come from inside the German lines.