The lieutenant lowered his voice. "I don't like the way he keeps looking at Wims. Do you think he's heard about him?"
"In Washington?"
"You know how rumors travel in the Army."
"Rumors, yes," the captain said, "but the truth can't even limp out of the orderly room." He wiped his brow and shot a venomous glance at Wims. He said to the lieutenant, "I don't like Wims sitting there in full view of the general. Go tell him to take his comic book and sit on the other side of the tree."
At that moment one of the young trainees stumbled into the headquarters area bleeding profusely from a deep gash on his cheek. Between lung-tearing gasps he told how the machine gun, intended to serve as the base of fire for the attacking platoons, had been captured by a Red patrol before it could be set up. They were being led off under the supervision of a referee when he tumbled into a ravine and in the confusion made good his escape.
"Get the jeep and rush this man to the hospital," the captain instructed the lieutenant.
"What about the attack?" the lieutenant inquired. "Someone will have to get word to the forward platoons to hold up until we can move up a new gun."
"I'll send a messenger."
"But they're all out."
"One of them is bound to return soon. If not, I'll—"