The others were waiting outside, questions written all over their faces.
"I dunno," I said. "They pumped me for all I was worth; then shut up like clams. My guess is they'll hush it up like usual."
Wally nodded.
"How's Crater?" I asked.
"Okay. The medics are holding him at the infirmary overnight; then he'll be back with us for light duty. They're sending us back to the field, I guess."
Wally didn't sound pleased.
"At least we're still around to go back," Chuck said quietly. "I never saw anything like it, man," he added. "Jumping them like that, with nothing but a goddamn shovel. We were lucky they didn't hit us worse before you got them. How'd you do it?"
I looked off into the distance, uncomfortable over the awe in his voice. I had pulled a suicidal-seeming stunt with a shovel and they all figured I was some kind of hero who'd saved their lives, or something.
Well, maybe I had at that, but it sure wasn't because I was fearless in the face of death.
As for how I'd managed it, I couldn't admit to them or anyone else what'd really done the killing. Only Johnson had seen that knife, and he'd been ridiculed for blurting it out; would probably get cashiered on a Section Eight, if he stuck to his story. Not that I'd be sorry to see him go.
"I don't know. Honest, I just don't know. Blind dumb luck, I guess. Have I got time to head over to the armory?"
"Armory?" Chuck laughed. "What're you going to do; ask if they've got any more of those deadly entrenching tools?"
"Or something." I forced a grin.
Wally nodded. "Okay, meet us in twenty outside the mess hall. Truck's supposed to be waiting there."
I left them and made my way reluctantly back to the armory. The armorer looked annoyed at my request; but went and got the box. He tossed the wooden case onto the table between