“No. Not if you have a feeling for rhythm. Not if you can just throw yourself into the mood and let yourself go. And gee, kid, how would you make a fool of yourself — look around.” He indicated the contortionist movements of the dancers. “Anyway, who cares what anyone thinks? Remember, kid, no one cares deep down. It doesn’t matter. Nobody gives a hoot.” He gulped down more beer, sticking his legs out, lolling back and staring at the ceiling. “You have to create your own world around you. Otherwise they get to you.”
“Who gets to you?”
“All of them. The good guys, the bad guys, the indifferent, the sergeant majors, corporals, bums, medical officers, POs, war. You name it.”
“Do you hate it all?”
“Hate? Don’t hate anything or anybody. You have to feel real mad to hate. I just keep out of
