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For a long moment her kiss was firm and warm but chaste。 Then she moaned almost inaudibly； her body softened and came strongly against him； her lips opened； and she kissed him in a fashion that Lazarus could barely believe even as he answered it in kind…a kiss that promised everything she could give。
After some uncountable eternity she whispered against his lips： 〃Theodore 。 。 take care of yourself。 e back to us。〃
DA CAPO
VI
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Camp Funston； Kansas
Dear Twins and Family；
Surprise！ Meet Corporal Ted Bronson； acting sergeant and the meanest drillmaster in the whole National Army of the United States。 No； I have not scrambled my circuits。 I temporarily lost track of a basic principle of evasive action； i。e。； the best place to hide a needle is in a stack of needles 。 。 and the best place to avoid the horrors of war is in an army。 Since none of you has ever seen a War； or even an army； I must explain。
I had （foolishly） planned to avoid this war by running away to South America But South America is a place where I could not possibly pass for a native； no matter how well I spoke the language…and it is loaded with German agents who would suspect me of being an American agent and might arrange some nasty accident for 01' Buddy Boy； bless his innocent heart。 And the girls there have beautiful flashing eyes； suspicious duennas； and fathers who love to shoot grmgos up to no good。
Unhealthy：
But if I stayed in the United States and tried to stay out of the Army…one slip and I wind up behind cold stone walls； eating miserable food； and making little rocks out of big ones。 Unappealing。
But in wartime the Army gets the best of everything… aside from a mild hazard of getting shot at。 The latter can be avoided。
How？ This is not yet the era of total war； and an army
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offers innumerable bolt holes for a coward （me） to avoid unpleasant dangers from strangers。 In this era only a small part of an army gets shot at。 （An even smaller part gets hit； but I don't plan to take that risk。） At this here&…now land warfare is fought in certain locations； and there are endless army jobs not in those places； where （despite a military uniform） an army man is really just a privileged civilian。
I am in such a job and probably won't move until the '~var is over。 Someone has to take these brave； young； innocent lads； fresh off the farm； and turn them into somethinj resembling soldiers。 A man who can do this is so valuable that officers are reluctant to let him go。
So I'm full of that old fighting spirit and won't have to fight。 I teach； instead…close…order drill； extended drill； markmanship and care of the rifle； bayo； barehanded bat； field hygiene； anything。 My 〃arfiazing〃 aptitude in military matters caused surprise； me being a recruit with 〃no military experience。〃 （How could I admit that Gramp taught me to shoot five years after the end of this war and that I first handled these same weapons as a high School cadet ten years from now and that my military experience is scattered over the next hundred years plus a little now and then for centuries more？）
But a rumor hints that I was once a soldat in the French Foreign Legion； a corps of one of our Allies； made up of cut…throats； thieves； and escaped convicts； and famous for their go…to…hell way of fighting…possibly a deserter from it and almost certainly under another name。 I discourage
？this canard by being surly if anyone gets inquisitive and only occasionally make the mistake of saluting French~style （palm forward） and correct it at once…but everybody knows that I 〃polLy…voo'~ because my knowledge of the French language had a lot to do with my change from 〃acting corporal〃 to real corporal assigned to instruction； and now greasing for sergeant。；There are French？and British officers and sergeants here to teach us trench warfare。 All the French here are supposed to speak English…but the English they speak these Kansas and Missouri plow jockeys can't understand。 So in slips lazy Lazarus as liaison。 Me and one French sergeant almost add up。 to one good instructor。
Without that French sergeant I am a good instructor when I am allowed to teach what I know。 But only in
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519unarmed bat am ~I allowed to； because unarmed handto…hand fighting does not change throughthe ages； only the name changes； and it hasonly one rule： Do it first； do it fast； do it dirtiest。
But take bayo fighting… A bayo is a knife on the end of a gun； and the two parts add up to the Roman pilum； used two thousand years earUer and not new even then。 One would expect the art of bayo fighting； in 1917； to be perfect。
But it isn't。 The 〃Book〃 teaches parries but not counters…yet a counter is as fast as a parry； far more deceptive； and fatslly confusing to a man who has never heard of one。 And there are other things… There was （will be） a war in the twenty…sixth century Greg。 in which the use of the bayo became a high art and I was an unwilling participant until I managed to duck out。 So one morning here； on a bet； I demonstrated that I could take on and never be touched by a US。 Army regular sergeant…instructor…then。 a British one…and then a French one。
Was I allowe4 to teach what I had demonstrated？ No。 I mean 〃Hell； No！〃 I wasn't doing it 〃by the Book；〃 and my 〃smart…alec〃 attempt almost lost me my cushy job。 So I went back to doing it by the sacred 〃Book。〃
But this book （used at Plattsburg where my father… and yours…trained） is not bad。 In bayo fighting its emphasis is on aggressiveness； which is okay within its limits； the bayo is a horror weapon in the hands of a man eager to close and kill…and that may be all these kids have time to learn。 But I would hate to see these pink…cheeked； brave lads go up against some old； tired； pessimistic twenty…sixth…century mercenaries whose sole
？purpose is to stay alive while their opponents die。
These kids can win a war； they will win this war； they did win it from whe？ you are。 But an unnecessary number are going to die。
I love these kids。 They are young and eager and gallant and terribly anxious to get 〃Over There〃 and prove that one American can lick any six Germans。 （Not true。 The ratio isn't even one to one。 The Germans are veterans and don't suffer tcprn 〃sportsmanship〃 or any other illusions。 But these green kids will keep on fighting and dying until the Gerniansgive up。）
But they are so young！ Laz and Lor； most of them
520are younger than you two； some much younger。 I don't know how many lied about their ages…but lots of them don't have to shave。 Sometimes at night I'll hear one crying in his cot； homesick for his mammy。 But next day he'll be trying； hard as ever。 We don't have enough desertions to matter； these boys want to fight。
I try not to think about how useless this war is。
？It's a matter of