Honey Tone evaded a direct answer. "How's all de rest ob de boys?"
"Ain't seed 'em. Me an' Cap'n Jack came back casual."
"Whah at's he now?"
"Livin' heah. Memphis is de Cap'n's home town. Us jus' got in heah yes'day. F'm now on I works fo' Cap'n Jack. Ain't much to do, an' Cap'n's lady sho' foun' a good cook. I aims to eat heavy f'm now on to ketch up wid whut I missed in de army. Whut is you doin', 'sides lookin' fo' easy money?"
Honey Tone, the ex-uplifter, was silent for a minute, and then his organizing instinct welled strong.
"Me? I's organizin' a Returned Heroes' Parade. Us Konk'rin' Heroes what wore de army unifawm jines in de gran' ruckus."
"Sho! Honey Tone, whut yo' mean army unifawm? You was 'fested with letheh straps an' uppity talk when I knowed you fust. Now you talks plain niggah."
"Sounds more homelike." Honey Tone did not feel constrained to explain the finesse which prompted him to abandon the vocabulary which he had derived from a year's schooling and considerable subsequent speech-making.
"Aftah de parade mebbe us organizes de Colored Militarriers of America. I's been ponderin' considerable how come some ob you ain't started dat lodge yet? Dues a dollah a month. Parades fo' baptisn's, marryin's, and funerals. Special buryin' department wheh you gits crematized or secluded in de ground as you prefers, dependin' whether you pays fo' bits a week extra or not."
"Sounds half gran'—mebbe folks takes up wid it. Ol' parade sho' sounds noble." In common with other overseas veterans, the Wildcat listened strong to the appeal made by the jingling hardware of heroism. He had visions of himself prancin' along where white folks could look at him—visions which included an O.D. uniform plentifully festooned with wound stripes, coloured ribbons, service chevrons, and a few decorative military crosses.