“What’s the matter?”

He looked at me, then stood up.

“I’m going on.”

“What’s the trouble?”

“⁠⸻ the war.”

“What’s wrong with your leg?”

“It’s not my leg. I got a rupture.”

“Why don’t you ride with the transport?” I asked. “Why don’t you go to the hospital?”

“They won’t let me. The lieutenant said I slipped the truss on purpose.”

“Let me feel it.”

“It’s way out.”