“Hell, how should I know?” said Ettore. “I shot him in the belly. I was afraid I’d miss him if I shot him in the head.”
“How long have you been an officer, Ettore?” I asked.
“Two years. I’m going to be a captain. How long have you been a lieutenant?”
“Going on three years.”
“You can’t be a captain because you don’t know the Italian language well enough,” Ettore said. “You can talk but you can’t read and write well enough. You got to have an education to be a captain. Why don’t you go in the American army?”
“Maybe I will.”
“I wish to God I could. Oh, boy, how much does a captain get, Mac?”
“I don’t know exactly. Around two hundred and fifty dollars, I think.”
“Jesus Christ what I could do with two hundred and fifty dollars. You better get in the American army quick, Fred. See if you can’t get me in.”
“All right.”
“I can command a company in Italian. I could learn it in English easy.”
“You’d be a general,” said Simmons.
“No, I don’t know enough to be a general. A general’s got to know a hell of a lot. You guys think there ain’t anything to war. You ain’t got brains enough to be a second-class corporal.”
“Thank God I don’t have to be,” Simmons said.
“Maybe you will if they round up all you slackers. Oh, boy, I’d like to have you two in my platoon. Mac too. I’d make you my orderly, Mac.”
