“This hell of a life!” said Bill Grey, savagely.
“What d'ye mean?”
“Doin' nothin' but pack bandages in packin' cases and take bandages out of packin' cases. I'll go crazy. I've tried gettin' drunk; it don't do no good.”
“Gee; I've got a head,” said Fuselli.
Bill Grey put his heavy muscular hand round Fuselli's shoulder as they strolled towards the barracks.
“Say, Dan, I'm goin' A. W. O. L.”
“Don't ye do it, Bill. Hell, look at the chance we've got to get ahead. We can both of us get promoted if we don't get in wrong.”
“I don't give a hoot in hell for all that.... What d'ye think I got in this goddamed army for? Because I thought I'd look nice in the uniform?”
Bill Grey thrust his hands into his pockets and spat dismally in front of him.
“But, Bill, you don't want to stay a buck private, do you?”