Читать книгу Rage. The Legend of "Baseball Bill" Denehy онлайн

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Tony put the coal in his helmet and lit it, and we went to sleep. The next morning we awoke to find that the coal had burned a large hole in our tent.

“Okay, you wise guys,” our superior officer said, “you’re sleeping with a hole in your tent.”

“This was your idea,” I told Tony. “You’re sleeping under the hole.”

Two nights later it snowed. I woke up at six o’clock in the morning when the bugle blew, and I looked at Tony, and all I could see were his nostrils. The rest of his face was covered with snow.

One evening in January Tony and I were invited to leave our little pup tent, where we slept on the hard ground, and enter the warm tent of the superior officers. We were told, “The son of the general is having a Little League banquet, and the general wants to know if you two will come and speak.”

“Of course we will,” I said.

Tony wasn’t quite so willing.

“Oh no,” said Tony. “I’m not doing this for nothing.”

“I think we should just go,” I said.

“I’ll tell you what,” Tony said to the general’s assistant. “If we can get a weekend pass, we’ll do it.”