“Yes, I must have loved my mother.”
“Did you always love God?”
“Ever since I was a little boy.”
“Well,” I said. I did not know what to say. “You are a fine boy,” I said.
“I am a boy,” he said. “But you call me father.”
“That’s politeness.”
He smiled.
“I must go, really,” he said. “You do not want me for anything?” he asked hopefully.
“No. Just to talk.”
“I will take your greetings to the mess.”
“Thank you for the many fine presents.”
“Nothing.”
“Come and see me again.”
“Yes. Goodbye,” he patted my hand.
“So long,” I said in dialect.
“Ciao,” he repeated.
It was dark in the room and the orderly, who had sat by the foot of the bed, got up and went out with him. I liked him very much and I hoped he would get back to the Abruzzi some time. He had a rotten life in the mess and he was fine about it but I thought how he would be in