CHATTING LICE by Addie Armstrong We crouch, talking low, huddled ‘round an old tin. Passing candle stubs along, Picking seams, flicking lice. “Think I’ll light one up.” Willis strikes a lucifer, passes the case to me. “Corp, take a smoke?” “Not tonight.” I pass it on. “If you won’t; may as well.” “Won’t waste the chance.” Miller takes the match, lights last. And shots find us in the dark. Jerry’s sniping late. Cussing, they crush out the lights. Stub our candles in the mud. Miller curses, he was third light, and now he’s bleeding in the mud. Last shots ring; my reply and Jerry’s Goodnight Kiss. Eventually the dead are quiet, and Jerry has crawled away. “Got a candle, Corp, here’s lucifer.” We return to chatting lice.
Originally published by W. Ransom Leccese (1918, Argonne Forest).
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