“Indiana's God's country, ain't it, Andy?”
“Ah've seen a hailstone measured nine inches around out home, honest to Gawd, Ah have.”
“Ah'd like to see any goddam barrage do the damage one of our thunder an' lightnin' storms'll do,” shouted Chris.
“I guess all the barrage we're going to see's grenade practice.”
“Don't you worry, buddy,” said somebody across the room.
“You'll see enough of it. This war's going to last damn long....”
“Ah'd lak to get in some licks at those Huns tonight; honest to Gawd Ah would, Andy,” muttered Chris in a low voice. He felt his muscles contract with a furious irritation. He looked through half-closed eyes at the men in the room, seeing them in distorted white lights and reddish shadows. He thought of himself throwing a grenade among a crowd of men. Then he saw the face of Anderson, a ponderous white face with eyebrows that met across his nose and a bluish, shaved chin.
“Where does he stay at, Andy? I'm going to git him.”
“Sit down and have a drink, Chris,” he said, “Remember you're going to sleep with the Queen of Sheba tonight.”
“Not if I can't git them goddam....” his voice trailed off into an inaudible muttering of oaths.
“O the oak and the ash and the weeping willow tree, O green grows the grass in God's countree!”
Chrisfield saw a woman standing beside the table with her back to him, collecting the bottles. Andy was paying her.
“Antoinette,” he said. He got to his feet and put his arms round her shoulders. With a quick movement of the elbows she pushed him back into his chair. She turned round. He saw the sallow face and thin breasts of the older sister. She looked in his eyes with surprise. He was grinning drunkenly. As she left the room she made a sign to him with her head to follow her. He got up and staggered out the door, pulling Andrews after him.
In the inner room was a big bed with curtains where the women slept, and the fireplace where they did their cooking. It was dark except for the corner where he and Andrews stood blinking in the glare of a candle on the table. Beyond they could only see ruddy shadows and the huge curtained bed with its red coverlet.
The Frenchman, somewhere in the dark of the room, said something several times.
Above them they heard the snoring of aeroplane motors, rising and falling like the buzzing of a fly against a window pane.