“You listen, Dorman!” the Major cut in swiftly. “I’ve seen men like you before. You had a chance to make good and muffed it and now you’re taking it out on the whole damned army. You’re a sorehead and a disorganizer. You’ve got the whole post up in arms. You’re a quitter if I ever saw one.”
The Major looked at him out of the corner of his eyes, saw the big fellow biting his lips to control himself and went on. “You don’t ever expect to get back up there by sulking, do you? Well, you haven’t a chance.” He hitched his chair closer and laid his hand on Dorman’s knee. It was rather an awkward gesture.
“You’re not the only man in this war, you know. There’s a lot of us over here and we’ve all got a job to do. The fellow who doesn’t do it is passing the buck to somebody else.”
Dorman looked at him in mingled rage and humiliation. Something in the major’s voice got under his skin. He lowered his head to avoid the major’s eyes and said,
“I want to fight, sir. I want to fight more than anything else in the world.” He trembled and the Major said,
“Steady, now. Of course you do. And you will. In the meantime there are men who look to you for certain things. You aren’t giving them a break. Nobody knows what this war is all about. It’s tough to go on waiting and waiting... but it’s got to be done. Hold up your end of it. Now go on back to your barracks. There are five Spads to take up tonight.”
Dorman’s eyes widened.
“Tonight? You mean you’re sending me up after—”
He hesitated and the Major said, “After what?”
“Why, I cracked a DH—”