"On the hook, behind you."
Bolgar put the cap on his head, squaring it. He stepped back from the glass to determine its correctness.
"Beautiful!" Pulley said.
"All right, knock it off! What time is it?"
"Twenty of ten. Better get goin'. Your girl friend's waiting."
"I'm going," Bolgar said, strapping on his watch. He clanked to the doorway of the barrack, but turned before going out. "This place stinks," he said. "We got to clean it up one of these days."
"Sure," Pulley said lazily. He flopped over on the sagging bunk and turned his head to the wall. "Have a good time, Lieutenant." His chuckle ended in a yawn.
The area was deserted, just as Bolgar knew it would be.
He walked quick march towards the mess hall, hoping that he would be unobserved, regretting now the cluster of medals on his uniform. He knew that these tokens of battle were officially frowned upon; but he also knew that there would be added satisfaction in crushing the hard bits of brass and iron against the girl's heaving chest....