“Can’t play nothin’ without a drink,” King Cole informed the group. “Now, if I was back in Muskogee to-night I’d go in M’Gittis’s saloon and say ‘Fill ’em up agin, M’Gittis,’ all night.... Ain’t nobody got a drink?” he broke off plaintively.
“Well, I got a little wine you can have, Humpy. It’s in my canteen.”
“Wine? You call that red hog-wash wine? I like hooch, anyway.”
There was a pause.
“Go and git your damned old wine.” In the evenings when there was no occupation for the platoon, King Cole rated equally with President Wilson.
The wine was brought and King Cole drank well. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, emitted a satisfied “Ah,” and began:
“‘Oh, meet me, oh, meet me, to-night, love,
Oh, meet me in the garden alone.
For I’ve a sad story to tell you,
A story that’s never been told.’”