“What shall I have to call yer? Gineral?” Chipmunk asked simply.
“Mate, Bill, Joe—any old name.”
“Ker-ist!” said Chipmunk.
“Do you know why we’re going to enlist?”
“Can’t say as ’ow I does, Cap’en.”
“You chuckle-headed swab! Don’t you know we’re at war?”
“I did ’ear some talk about it in a pub one night,” Chipmunk admitted. “’Oo are we fighting? Dutchmen or Dagoes?”
“Dutchmen.”
Chipmunk spat in his horny hands, rubbed them together and smiled. As each individual hair on his face seemed to enter into the smile, the result was sinister.
“Do you remember that Dutchman at Samoa, Cap’en?”