"Get up, you."

The white beam of a pocket searchlight was glaring in the face of
the man next to him.

"The O. D." said Fuselli to himself.

"Get up, you," came the sharp voice again.

The man in the next cot stirred and opened his eyes.

"Get up."

"Here, sir," muttered the man in the next cot, his eyes blinking
sleepily in the glare of the flashlight. He got out of bed and
stood unsteadily at attention.

"Don't you know better than to sleep in your O. D. shirt? Take
it off."

"Yes, sir."

"What's your name?"

The man looked up, blinking, too dazed to speak. "Don't know your
own name, eh?" said the officer, glaring at the man savagely,
using his curt voice like a whip.--"Quick, take off yer shirt and
pants and get back to bed."