“You missed a steak dinner,” Stan greeted him.
O’Malley grinned, “That’s what you think,” he said. “I had me a steak dinner with the corporal that fixed up me ship. You know that feller hadn’t had a steak for a month. He sure went for it.” O’Malley seated himself and elevated his feet to the top of the radio. In this position he promptly went to sleep.
Stan talked with the boys until time to turn in. He wakened O’Malley and they sloshed through the mud to their hut. During their absence, two other boys, replacement men, had been quartered in the hut. They greeted the two old heads eagerly.
They were Bugs Monahan and Splinters Wright, both from Toledo, Ohio. They had just finished flight combat school and were eager for action. Someone had given them the records of Stan and O’Malley. They were both eager to talk to the veterans. Splinters was a tall, thin youth with a little mustache. Bugs was short and fat with a round beaming face and a quick smile.
“We’ve heard a lot about you fellows,” Bugs said.
“Never believe anything you hear in the army,” Stan advised with a grin.
“Sure, an’ ye’ve been taken in by me auld pal Goebbels,” O’Malley added.
“I’m turning in. We’ll get a call along about four in the morning,” Stan said. “See you boys over at the rest room. That’s where we shoot the breeze.”
“See you at midnight when we get up to poke wood into that stove,” O’Malley contradicted.
“We’ll keep the fire going. We’re not sleepy,” Splinters said. They were both disappointed that the old heads did not want to go into a gabfest.