“No, can’t say I know where your outfit is. Which way did that artillery go?”
“Straight up the Verdun road toward Souilly. Find anything to monjay or drink here?” asked the Twenty-eighth Division man.
“Oui, got beaucoup pom du tear fritz, dey zerfs, and van rouge down the line there,” and Jimmy pointed out the house where he and O. D. had spent the night.
“Merci. Well, be good and take care. Just out of Château-Thierry, ain’t you?”
“Oui. So long, fellows!” answered Jimmy, and he and O. D. hiked on toward Verdun.
During the course of two kilometers three trucks passed the hikers. Chances of riding looked pas bons to them when another truck appeared on the crest of a high hill, making toward them.
“Maybe this guy’ll have a heart. We’ll stop here and look tired as hell,” said Jimmy, stopping on the roadside.
The truck came closer.
“Hell afire! Believe it’s a YD truck, O. D.”
“How ’bout a lift, buddy?” shouted Jimmy as the truck was almost up to them.