"Yeah ... bad findin' you guys in the black ... bad truck ... but weah heah."
To Dennison he sounded unreal: where the hell was Georgia? Where was the US? All these men ... here ... how had they gotten here? The dune became real but the conflict was unreal.
Settling his cup on the kit he asked himself whether he should eat more? What about being wounded on a full belly? Was it worse with the belly full? Some said....
"Heah, heah," said Raub. "I've got some sinkahs for you. Would you all like a couple?"
"Huh ... I guess so..."
Raub opened a cupboard door--a stainless steel door in the side of his kitchen--and pulled out a cellophane bag and passed doughnuts to Dennison, one at a time, hooked over a finger.
Dennison grinned.
"Good boy, Raub."
"Mum's da word. Quick, hide'em, while we're alone." Raub frowned, imagining GI's storming over the sand, howling for doughnuts across the counter. "Jus' remember, when your folks sends you all some stuff, jus' remember me again."
"I'll remember."