"Yare."

"That's goddam funny. You're from the Coast, this feller's from
New York, an' Ah'm from ole Indiana, right in the middle."

"What company you in?"

"Ah ain't yet. This feller an me's in Casuals."

"That's a hell of a place.... Say, my name's Fuselli."

"Mahn's Chrisfield."

"Mine's Andrews."

"How soon's it take a feller to git out o' this camp?"

"Dunno. Some guys says three weeks and some says six months....
Say, mebbe you'll get into our company. They transferred a lot of
men out the other day, an' the corporal says they're going to give
us rookies instead."

"Goddam it, though, but Ah want to git overseas."

"It's swell over there," said Fuselli, "everything's awful pretty-
like. Picturesque, they call it. And the people wears peasant
costumes.... I had an uncle who used to tell me about it. He came
from near Torino."