The major walked with a permanent list. He stood with a permanent list, his whole left side adroop under the weight of his old campaign ribbons. His sharp, sallow face listed beneath the scraggly gray counterbalances of a mustache that he allowed to grow too long because it would not grow thick enough. His speech listed; he began his longer sentences strongly and confidently, but they trailed off and fell away in threshing shadows. Some of the individual words listed. He pronounced “ing” like “een.”
The major was smiling and his yellowing teeth listed humorlessly beneath the smile. “Well, men,” he said, “I have good news for you. At least I think it will be good news for you. You’ve been traineen hard and workeen hard and I know you’ve found companionship and a new sense of purpose and I
