The following morning at four o'clock we landed safely on the beach. The destroyers took us off the ship—all we knew was that at last we were on something where we could rest. I remember some of the crew asking us questions, but I don't remember our answering. We just dropped down on a roll of blankets and closed our eyes. . . .
I woke last. Dick and Tod were chatting softly in a corner. I opened my eyes and listened.
"Well, write it down, Tod, so you don't forget," Dick was saying. "You and Clink and I will hike it for Maine. Is that straight?"
"What's this?" I asked. Dick grinned over at me.
"We're making a little date for after the war," he said. "We figured what a lot we'd have to talk about on that camping trip, eh?"
I nodded. "You can count me in," I said.
But, as it's turned out, there won't be any camping trip for the three of us after all. Dick was lost at sea on his next trip across, while I was sick in hospital. Then I heard that Tod had gone down, and it nearly knocked me out. There never were two such pals as those chaps.
Perhaps some day when it's all over, and we've licked the Hun to a standstill, I'll wander up there myself with our stony-faced guide; and perhaps I'll sit on the bank of our little lake and fish in the clear water with the tackle we all used, or shoot the same-sized rifle—and I'll have the satisfaction of knowing that they've trod every inch of the ground—it will be almost like having them there—but not quite—pals like that don't happen more than once in a lifetime—I wish I could tell you just what great sort of fellows they were—oh, well, I couldn't if I tried a thousand years—so what's the use?
Here's to the marines—the foremost military body in America!