but he just knows that they all love us. Right when he starts I know we're in for trouble, 'cause when the brass start talking about crusades, a lot of joes is gonna get killed. He goes on with this for half an hour, and all the time the TV cameras is grinding away from this other crawler that is filled with newsers and video people. He mentions blood 16 times and that ain't good. Sweat he says 14 times and guts an even dozen. When it really looks bad, though, is when he calls the Major and the Captain up and pins a medal on each of the medal racks that officers wear on the front of their armor. When they start passing out the medals ahead of time, brother, it ain't good, it ain't good at all. When he gets through with all this, the old boy retires into his crawler. "I guess he's going in to plan the battle," I says. "Ha," says Sergeant Coleman's voice in my ear. "All the blood and guts in that speech wore him out so much he's got to retire to his bar for a few quick ones with them two aides of his." "Now, Sarge," I says, "that ain't no way for a patriot to talk." "My patriotism is at a very low ebb at the moment. Do you know what kind of a party we're going to have in the morning?" "No," I says, "but I would be interested in finding out." "You've seen that huge mile-long building that's across the square from us?" "I've seen it and found little to like about it. The enemy has every kind of gun in there that's been invented." "Well, the Captain says that that's it! Fighting Joe wants us to take it." "Remember boys, remember that the way of life in the W.D.P.F.R. is better. Remember what you're fighting for—hotdogs and new cars, electric refrigerators and apple pie, sweethearts and mother. Don't let mother down boys!" A voice that used to sell us bath soap is selling us war. "That kind of sounds like we're getting ready to move in, don't it Sarge?" I says. Sure enough a half hour later we starts to move up. The whole company of thirty men is on its way with the rest of the battalion close behind.
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