“Naw, I'm not sick; but Sarge sent me to get some stuff for some guys that's too sick to move.”
“An awful lot o' sickness on this boat.”
“Two fellers died this mornin' in that there room,” said another man solemnly, pointing over his shoulder with a jerk of the thumb. “Ain't buried 'em yet. It's too rough.”
“What'd they die of?” asked Fuselli eagerly.
“Spinal somethin'....”
“Menegitis,” broke in a man at the end of the line.
“Say, that's awful catchin' ain't it?”
“It sure is.”
“Where does it hit yer?” asked Fuselli.
“Yer neck swells up, an' then you juss go stiff all over,” came the man's voice from the end of the line.