“Oui,” replied Jimmy, making a move to get up.
“Peu importe! Restez donc près du feu!” (It does not make any difference. Stay by the fire if you are not ready to go.)
“Merci, madame,” and Jimmy sat down again.
The old man was jerked out of his snoring slumber. With little less ado than to shake off his slippers and take off his coat the old fellow climbed into bed, pants, cap, and everything else on. His spouse went ahead with her preparations for sleep as if the two Americans had been miles away.
“Just like these people. They don’t give a darn for any one,” explained Jimmy as he started to scratch around his neck and chest. “Damn these cooties, they always get restless when I stay near a hot fire long.” He pushed farther away from the fireplace and put a cigarette to his lips.
“Go on, Jimmy, with your story. You were told to leave the house—and what then?” begged O. D.
“Well, I reported in front of the theater and a sergeant grabs me and says, ‘Git in that truck and go to camp.’ ‘What the hell’s up?’ I asked. ‘Never mind, you’ll find out soon enough,’ snaps out the sergeant.
“When we hit the camp half of the battery was lined up gettin’ inspected and the other half was fallin’ all over each other, rollin’ up blankets or cussin’ the supply sergeant because he wouldn’t issue stuff that had been swiped or lost. Tacks McLoughlin, who used to cushay next to me in the tent, told me that my detail was goin’ to France toot sweet.
“You can imagine that the news kind of excited me just a little, ’cause I was green to real excitement in those days. I started to make up my own roll, but when it came time to strap it up I found that I was tyin’ up my own arm inside the roll, so had to unwind the whole darn thing. Finally I got all set and was inspected. Nobody tried to stop me from goin’, so I guess I was thought able and fit. Toot sweet after we monjayed a rotten supper of goolash—some meal to hand a gang about to come to this God-forsaken country—the gang started bettin’ like a bunch of wild men at a horse-race.
“‘Bet we’ll get torpedoed,’ shouted one crape-hanger. ‘Ten to one we’ll be at the front in two months,’ said Sundberg, goin’ wild. I told him to lay dead on that stuff. I knew there wasn’t much chance of ’em sendin’ a gang of men who didn’t know a halter-shank from the breech-block of a piece to the front right away. One gink wanted to bet me that he’d get hit before me. I listened to the bull just to keep my excitement down.