“How do you get that way, Jack? You know there ain’t no mail up at regimental.”
“Well,” Pugh sighed, “if you all don’ wanna heah f’m your mammy I don’ give a damn.... Oh-o. What you all got, Hicks?”
Hicks had arrived at his billet, his arms filled with the bottles of wine and the cans of the questionable contents.
Candles were lighted and set on the helmets of the men. Bodies rose to a sitting posture, eyes on Hicks.
“Gimme a drink, Hicksy!”
“Hooray, look what Hicks’s got.”
“Yeh, gimme a drink.”
The voices were clamorous.
“Gimme, gimme? Was your mouth bored out with a gimlet,” Hicks jeered. “Why didn’t you buy some?”
They formed a semicircle around the fireplace in front of which Hicks sat with his plunder.