"But I won't. You can write better than I can. When they hear you've snared this big chump, General What's-his-name, they'll tumble over themselves to get you a commission. You deserve it. We're all finding out what the Johnny Bulls tell us: the non-coms and the subs have about as much to do with this scrap as the generals and colonels."
[CHAPTER XII]
Hunting Big Game in No Man's Land
There was nothing of self-consciousness about Corporal Whitcomb over the capture of a high commander of the enemy on almost the first night of his experiences at the front. As Roy Flynn put it:
"Herb's never chesty; wasn't at school, though heaps o' duffers who couldn't stay with him in anything, indoors or out, would swell up like poisoned pups. That's Herb."
Just then the object of the conversation walked into the dugout.
"When are they going to send his nibs, General Sauerkraut, to the rear, Corporal?" asked Sniper G. Washington Smith.
"As soon as the patrol arrives; to-morrow at the latest. I believe he talked some to Gardner last night; tried to bribe him. Flynn, your turn on guard duty, now, over the prisoners. Relieve Watson. The lieutenant wants one of our men with three of his over them all the time. Gaul, you go on to-night.