“Give it a week or two,” he said. “They’ll start keeping you warmer.”

War is apparently a choice of being filthy or cold.

Ain’t that a kick in the head.

We were able to find good living quarters in Massul, a town not so badly hit by the war. Most of us were able to find houses to stay in. The people were extremely kind, friendly and generous. A lot of spontaneous handshakes, hugs and kissing, the youngsters raiding our pockets for chocolate and gum. Fraternization with the civilians is frowned upon, but there are many empty bedrolls at night. Keep it on the QT seems to be the rule about the rule. Nobody says a thing during the night, but a lot of sideways glances, stifled laughter and winks. Hook finally—

Kennet stopped. He’d been about to write popped his cherry. Hook was reading these entries and might not appreciate his personal business so freely recounted. Then again, Hook had read all Kennet’s intimate, racy thoughts about Astrid. And Hook had run quite a public gauntlet the morning after he was deflowered.

“My boy,” Schmitt had cried, when Hook came back from his assignation. “Let me look at you. Look in my eyes, let me see… Yes, by golly, you’re a man now.”

“Shut up,” Hook said, his ears reddening.

Jock clapped an arm around him. “How was it? Tell us everything.”

Hook glanced at Kennet, then dug at the ground with his boot. “Fish don’t tell tales out of school and neither do Hooks.”

“Well said,” Kennet said.

Jock gathered Hook’s cheeks in a hand and squeezed his face. “So proud of you.”

Nichols started singing Ella Fitzgerald.

Must I extend an invitation

To make love to me?

Make love to me, my darling,

Tonight will end so soon.

“Christ,” Hook groaned, turning redder.

Schmitt had joined in now, circling Hook like a lecher, twirling an invisible mustache.

There are moments when my lips, my lips adore addressing you,

But tonight my lips are only for caressing you,

But how about you?

Then the whole gang joined in:

Don’t let the mood I’m in change,

Make love to me!

Make love to me, my darling,

I’m so in love with you!

“Thank you, I’m mortified,” Hook said.

“Make love to,” Jock said. “That’s the dumbest expression. It makes no sense. You can’t make something to someone.”

“That’s what you think,” Ingle said.

“It makes no sense. Grammatically speaking.”

“It’s an expression,” Hook said. “Like raining cats and dogs.”

“That’s an idiom,” Kennet said.

“Well, pardon me, Shakespeare.”

“Make something to someone,” Schmitt said thoughtfully. “Put that way, it makes more sense.”

“What do you mean?” Hook said.

“Make something to someone,” he said again, then raised a finger in the air. “Make something equal to someone. Important to someone. Maybe that’s it.”

“What’s it?” Jock said.