Lancaster blocked the exit and his voice got hard. “Orderly, go on back and tell him the lieutenant is on his way.”
Dorman said, “I’m gonna bust—”
Lancaster moved over and turned sideways. His right fist was drawn back.
“You’re going to get some sense in your head if I have to punch it in there.”
The orderly went out.
Dorman’s lips quivered and he yanked off his helmet. A trickle of blood came down from his forehead.
Lancaster said, “You’re hurt, George. Fix yourself up and go on.”
Dorman put his hand up and it came away red. “You go to hell,” he said coldly and went over to the washstand. He soaked a towel and patted it against the cut and in a moment it had stopped bleeding. Lancaster came over and stood beside him without saying anything.
Dorman carefully turned his head and saw the understanding in Lancaster’s face. Remorse engulfed him and his eyes filled with tears. He massaged them out with his doubled fists and got sore all over again. He turned away and muttered.
“—damn! —damn!”