Battle Cry
“All night we crawled, practicing infiltration to sharpen ears and eyes in darkness. The squad had a rough time. It was imperative that we send our messages short and fast because the noise of the generator could arouse the dead in such stillness. We had to move quickly after each transmission, lest the “enemy” capture us. After stumbling around in the night for eight hours we returned to barracks dead tired.
“I’m dundee,” L.Q. Jones sighed. “Here I got a weekend ashore, that broad all lined... up in El Cajon, and I can’t get off the sack.”
“You know what they call that in the Russian Marines—toughi shitski,” his pal Lighttower prodded.
“Yeah, write him out a T.S. chit for the chaplain.”
“She’s picking me up at the gate, dammit, how about going down and telling her I’m in the brig or something, Injun?”
“Ain’t you got that broad, yet, L.Q.?”MoreLess
“I’m dundee,” L.Q. Jones sighed. “Here I got a weekend ashore, that broad all lined... up in El Cajon, and I can’t get off the sack.”
“You know what they call that in the Russian Marines—toughi shitski,” his pal Lighttower prodded.
“Yeah, write him out a T.S. chit for the chaplain.”
“She’s picking me up at the gate, dammit, how about going down and telling her I’m in the brig or something, Injun?”
“Ain’t you got that broad, yet, L.Q.?”MoreLess
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