“Why are you in the army?”

“I like it, sir.”

He smiled a wry smile, and asked, “You’ve got over that by this time?”

“Not much,” I replied defiantly.

“Ach!” he snarled. “You like it?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You are of the New Hampshire Starks, perhaps?”

“My folks came from there originally.”

I was amazed at his exact knowledge—and showed it.

He smiled and continued, “The Cromwell Roundhead breed!”