GIs come up the hill from every direction and they're all carrying something. They all give me the impression they're as mesmerized as I am, and everybody is trying to look a little different than he did an hour ago. A lot of the dudes sitting across the parapet from us look almost clean and I've never noticed how many tattoos there are. A couple guys have cigars.
They are unpacking the boxes, and the redhead stands up on an empty one and waits while the whistles and shouts die down. I'm close enough to see that she has freckles.
“As most of you know, we are Red Cross volunteers. And the Red Cross designates us as Red Cross Donut Dollies. And, as we all know, you guys don't call us dollies, you call us Donut Holes. It's not what you call us that we care about. It is how you like our bein
