I read down the chores list posted on the latrine closet where the brushes and mops were kept. “We’ve got to scrub showers, toilets, and sinks. Also mop the floor. What do you guys want to start with?”

Not getting an answer, I repeated the question. “I said, what jobs do you want?”

“I think just watching you work will be job enough,” Klein said, and Lukowski snickered.

“No, it won’t,” I said. I threw Lukowski a can of scouring powder that he had to catch to avoid getting hit by it. “You can do sinks.”

Then I told Klein, who was leaning against a wall, “That leaves johns and showers. Take your pick.”

“I ain’t picking nothing,” Klein said, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it.

“Then I’ll do the showers. Here!” I tossed a toilet brush to him.

Klein swore, caught it, and flung it back.

I let it fall. “Up to you,” I said, starting toward the showers. I’d do my part, but no more, and I’d leave it to him to explain why the whole latrine wasn’t finished proper.

He moved in quick as a rattlesnake strikes, and before I knew how it happened, we were on the floor fighting.

I was struggling to get a solid hold on him when he landed a blow that cracked hard under my cheekbone. Blood stung my eye as I hit back.

Lukowski’s voice broke through the ringing in my ears. “Someone’s coming.”

We scrambled up, but Klein wasn’t near done. He shoved me again, and I shoved back. We crashed sideways, knocking loose a tall pipe that crashed into a toilet bowl, shattering it. Water was cascading everywhere when the latrine door opened.

Sergeant Mackey moved in fast, and Compton was right behind him. The sergeant splashed through the spreading water to turn a shutoff valve before ordering, “Get on your feet. Clean this mess up and then report to the company commander’s office.”

“Shall I remain with them?” Compton asked.

“No.”

For several moments there was just the sound of their footsteps growing fainter.

Then Klein said, “The hell with this”—and started out—“You coming, Lukowski?”

Lukowski said, “Don’t you think—”

“Think what? That Captain Strom’s going to say, ‘You did such a good job cleaning up; you’re forgiven’?”

“No, but—”

“We’re going to get thrown out. Even dumb Trawnley there knows that, don’t you Moss? Thrown out on your hillbilly ear.”

Lukowski said, “But—”

Klein snorted. “Be a sucker if you want. I’m gone.” And then he did leave, and soon after, Lukowski followed him.

Klein was right, I thought. We were out.

But I got a mop from the closet, anyway, and I began sopping up the water that was as deep as the soles of my shoes.

Chapter 10