“I just picked these up.”
“So they couldn't let the poor little devils stay there? God! it looks to me as if they went out of their way to give pain to everything, bird, beast or man.”
“War ain't no picnic,” said Judkins.
“Well, God damn it, isn't that a reason for not going out of your way to raise more hell with people's feelings than you have to?”
A face with peaked chin and nose on which was stretched a parchment-colored skin appeared in the door.
“Hello, boys,” said the “Y” man. “I just thought I'd tell you I'm going to open the canteen tomorrow, in the last shack on the Beaucourt road. There'll be chocolate, ciggies, soap, and everything.”
Everybody cheered. The “Y” man beamed.
His eye lit on the little birds in Dad's hands.
“How could you?” he said. “An American soldier being deliberately cruel. I would never have believed it.”
“Ye've got somethin' to learn,” muttered Dad, waddling out into the twilight on his bandy legs.