I worked till that latrine sparkled, all the while picturing what must be going on in the captain’s office: Sergeant Mackey making his report and the CO’s reaction. I wondered if they’d already got my dismissal papers written up and a railroad pass made out to return me to . . . Return me where? I guessed to Monroe, where I’d signed on.

I didn’t let myself think past that, to what I’d do then.

Finally, when there wasn’t a surface left to clean and it was still just ten thirty in the morning, I put away the brushes and mop and started for the headquarters building.

Some CCC’ers were coming in from a hike, shouting out the last verses to a song, and I knew how good they felt stretching their legs and lungs.

Across the parade ground another gang of guys in CCC denim were unloading lumber from a truck. I guessed they were starting on the review platform Sergeant Mackey had said we’d be working on, to learn tools.

I smelled onions and beef cooking and wished I hadn’t been so fast to think I could handle Klein and Lukowski better than Apple could. If I hadn’t, I’d be eating stew with my buddies, come lunchtime.

It was a hard thing to get my mind around—how Td been part of it all and now wouldn’t be, and just when I was getting to like it.

It was hard to think how things here would be going on the same way come tomorrow and the next day, but all without me.

I hesitated outside Captain Strom’s office, thought Might as well get this over, and went in. “I’m Moss Trawnley,” I told the first soldier I saw. “Sergeant Mackey said I should report here.”

“You took your time showing up. Where are the others?”

“I don’t know.”

The soldier frowned and told me, “Well, you’re going to have to wait to get your discharges signed. The CO’s late getting back from a trip.” He pointed to a bench. “Over there.”

When Captain Strom still hadn’t returned by quarter of twelve, the orderly told me to rejoin my outfit for the noon meal and then report back afterward.

I cut across the parade ground and angled by a row of young trees. Down at the far end, a buck deer had pulled loose a wire protective cage and was rubbing his antlers on the tree trunk.

He’s going to kill it, I thought, remembering how we used to girdle weed trees back home. “With a ring of bark gone, a tree couldn’t pull up water and minerals.

I shouted to scare him off, and when I went by the tree, I looked to see what damage he’d done. Not much, yet. I replaced the cage and twisted some fastening wires tight before going on.