The Soldier

THE SOLDIER HE SAT DOWN WITH US A BEERY GROUP OF YOUNGISH MEN NOT WANTING TO BE OLD AND REACH THIRTY WE TALKED OF SEX ESCAPADES AND MONEY-MAKING SCHEMES WHICH HAD FALLEN DOWN AND BOUNCED AWAY FROM THE TV NEWS “I’D SHOOT YOU FOR THREE HUNDRED”, HE SAID, NOT SMILING, I NODDED IN CAUTIOUS ACKNOWLEDGEMENT, HIS BARBED WIRE EYES LOOKED AT HIS WRISTWATCH LATER YOU COULD HEAR HIM COUGHING IN THE TOILET: THEN IN A SHORT WHILE HE WALKED THROUGH THE ROOM WITH ITS STORM OF TABLES AND CHAIRS WHICH PARTED MOSES-STYLE TO LET HIM THROUGH, COUGHING AND CURSING, ANGRY THAT THERE WERE NO MORE WARS TO FIGHT, EXCEPTING THE ONES IN HIS HEAD