** h From somewhere in the hut came Coughlin's voice.

``How long did you study? How long, buddy?''

``For Christ's sake!'' a voice pleaded.

``Don't Christsake me, buddy! Just answer. C'mon -- c'mon!'' ** h I'm no hero. Did I start the damn war? ** h Automatically, Finnegan started going over today's lesson ** h Capitalism rots from the core. Did I start the damn war? Who did? That's a good one. I thought I knew. Why don't Uncle Sam mind his own fucken business? I'll bet both together did. I bet. So fuck them both. Goddamn. Goddammit. Just let me go home to Jersey, back to the shore, oh, Jesus, the shore. The waves breakin in on you and your girl at night there on the warm beach in the moonlight even Jesus sweet Mary. If I hafta do this to stay alive by God I'll do it. I hated the goddamn army from the first day I got in anyhow. All pricks like Coughlin run it anyway, one way or another. Fuck them ** h He rolled over and tried to shut out the noise, now much louder.

He snuggled into the blanket ** h Brandon dreamed. He was sitting on top of a log which was spinning round and around in the water. A river, wide as the Missouri, where it ran by his place. The log was spinning. But he was not. So what? Why should I be spinning just because the goddamn log is spinning? (he asked this out loud, but no one heard it over the other noise in the hut). Over on the bank, the west bank, a man stood, calling to him. He couldn't make out what he was saying. No doubt it had to do with the log. Why should he be concerned?