“That’s it, my boy! Go right after them—rifle, bayonet and pistol!”
“I hear our commander told the generalissimo that we wanted to fight this in our own way,” offered a young second-lieutenant.
“That’s right. As soon as Foch said we might try, Pershing told him we could stop the Heinies, but we didn’t want to follow the methods commonly in use. We wanted to go at them American fashion. So, those are the orders. And, believe me, we’ll stop them all right!”
“Pretty sure of it?” queried Don.
“Certain, my boy; certain! How do you feel about it, Rastus!”
“Ah feels dis a-way ’bout hit:” answered Wash. “Whichaway a white man wants tuh fight Ah sez let him fight an’ same way wif a niggah. Some goes at it wif fis’ en’ some wif a razzor, but fo’ me lemme butt wif mah haid. Ah kin put mah weight back o’ dis ol’ bean o’ mine en’ make a dant in a grin’ stone wif it!”
“Say, Rastus, go butt a Hun!”
“Show me one, boss; show me one! A ain’t seed one yit what wants tuh fight. Ah on’y heerd tell of ’em.”