jauntiness:

"I got a pass tonight," said Fuselli, tilting his head vainly.

"Goin' to tear things up?"

"Man...I got a girl at home back in Frisco. She's a good kid."

"Yer right not to go with any of the girls in this goddam town....
They ain't clean, none of 'em.... That is if ye want to go
overseas."

The flaxen-haired youth leaned across the table earnestly.

"I'm goin' to git some more chow: Wait for me, will yer?" said
Fuselli.

"What yer going to do down town?" asked the flaxen-haired youth
when Fuselli came back.

"Dunno,--run round a bit an' go to the movies," he answered,
filling his mouth with potato.

"Gawd, it's time fer retreat." They overheard a voice behind them.

Fuselli stuffed his mouth as full as he could and emptied the
rest of his meal reluctantly into the garbage pail.

A few moments later he stood stiffly at attention in a khaki row
that was one of hundreds of other khaki rows, identical, that