The sergeant was calm. "Yes, sir." He looked at the young officer. "But I feel better for having told about it. I'm all right now, sir. I hope I didn't upset you."
"No," the lieutenant said. "No. We'll forget about it."
"I'll have one of those cigarettes now, sir, if you don't mind. It doesn't matter about the tip, now that it's dark."
"Well...." The lieutenant hesitated. "I was going to send them back to Quartermaster, with a report. But all right. Here. I'll have one, too."
As the sergeant lit them he could see a bit of the red tip in the lieutenant's mouth. He dragged deep on his own, pretending he could taste lipstick.
"Lieutenant," he said. "It doesn't matter where you hit them, does it? I mean it doesn't hurt them at all?"
"No," the lieutenant said. "No, it doesn't matter. They just go to sleep."
"I'm glad." After a while the sergeant said, "I guess I'll hit the sack."
"It's still early."
"Yes. But I like to get up early. There's always a line in the latrine—at the shaving bowls."