‘God, what happened?’
‘Search me, Sir. Mostly you seemed to want to kill some GI. Kept telling everybody what he looks like.’
He put a forearm over his eyes. ‘The Pfc. Did you find him?’
‘Lieutenant, there ain’t such a man on the roster. Honest. Security’s been through every file we got. You better take it easy, Sir.’
A knock. The MP opened the door. Voices.
‘Lieutenant, Major Thompson wants to talk to you. How you feel?’
‘Lousy, Sergeant. Lousy… I’ll talk to him, if he wants.’
‘He’s quiet now, Sir.’
A new voice— that voice! Barrows pressed down on the forearm he held over his eyes until sparks shone. Don ’ t look; because if you ’ re right, you ’ ll kill him.
The door. Footsteps. ‘Evening, Lieutenant. Ever talk to a psychiatrist before?’