Ham wanted to know what the hell he was talking about. “Well, we have two boxes filled with them here in the hall,” Lamont said.
For the second time we displayed the treasures. Craig’s enthusiasm was tempered with concern for their safety. He was relieved when we said we had come purposely to put them in one of the steel vaults at the depot. We went with him to the Königsplatz forthwith and stowed them safely for the night.
Lamont and I continued on our way to Third Army Headquarters. Lincoln was working late. When we walked in he looked up from his typewriter and said “Hello” in a flat voice. Lincoln was in one of his uncommunicative moods. We left him alone and busied ourselves with letters from home which we found on Posey’s desk. Lincoln went on with his typing. Presently he stopped and said, “George’s orders came through. He’s gone to the Pacific.”
“It ought to be interesting work,” said Lamont.
“Oh, you knew about his orders?” asked Lincoln.
“No,” said Lamont.
That broke the mood. We had a lively session for the next hour. Lincoln was always a reservoir of information, a lot of it in the realm of rumor, but all of it fascinating. That evening he was unusually full of news. He had a perfect audience in Lamont and me because we had been completely out of touch with things while at the mine.
After exhausting his stock of fact and fiction, he produced his latest box of food from home. There were brandied peaches, tins of lobster and caviar, several kinds of cheese, dried fruits and crackers. It was a combination you’d never risk at home, if you were in your right mind.
“You do very well for yourself,” I said when he had the refreshments spread out on his desk.
“My wife knows the enlisted men’s motto: ‘Nothing is too good for our boys, and nothing is what they get.’”