He woke with a start. The bugle was blowing outside.
“All right, look lively!” the sergeant was shouting. Another day.
IV
The stars were very bright when Fuselli, eyes stinging with sleep, stumbled out of the barracks. They trembled like bits of brilliant jelly in the black velvet of the sky, just as something inside him trembled with excitement.
“Anybody know where the electricity turns on?” asked the sergeant in a good-humored voice. “Here it is.” The light over the door of the barracks snapped on, revealing a rotund cheerful man with a little yellow mustache and an unlit cigarette dangling out of the corner of his mouth. Grouped about him, in overcoats and caps, the men of the company rested their packs against their knees.
“All right; line up, men.”
Eyes looked curiously at Fuselli as he lined up with the rest. He had been transferred into the company the night before.
“Attenshun,” shouted the sergeant. Then he wrinkled up his eyes and grinned hard at the slip of paper he had in his hand, while the men of his company watched him affectionately.
“Answer 'Here' when your name is called. Allan, B.C.”
“Yo!” came a shrill voice from the end of the line.