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Seattle
was
n't
so
very
different
from
Vancouver
and
the
girls
were
just
as
plentiful
;
I
enjoyed
it
.
But
Seattle
was
n't
quite
as
used
to
having
M.
I.
around
in
droves
and
we
picked
a
poor
spot
to
eat
dinner
,
one
where
we
were
n't
quite
so
welcome
a
bar-restaurant
,
down
by
the
docks
.
Now
,
look
,
we
were
n't
drinking
.
Well
,
Kitten
Smith
had
had
one
repeat
one
beer
with
his
dinner
but
he
was
never
anything
but
friendly
and
nice
.
That
is
how
he
got
his
name
;
the
first
time
we
had
hand-to-hand
combat
drill
Corporal
Jones
had
said
to
him
disgustedly
:
"
A
kitten
would
have
hit
me
harder
than
that
!
"
The
nickname
stuck
.
We
were
the
only
uniforms
in
the
place
;
most
of
the
other
customers
were
merchant
marine
sailors
--
Seattle
handles
an
awful
lot
of
surface
tonnage
.
I
had
n't
known
it
at
the
time
but
merchant
sailors
do
n't
like
us
.
Part
of
it
has
to
do
with
the
fact
that
their
guilds
have
tried
and
tried
to
get
their
trade
classed
as
equivalent
to
Federal
Service
,
without
success
--
but
I
understand
that
some
of
it
goes
way
back
in
history
,
centuries
.
There
were
some
young
fellows
there
,
too
,
about
our
age
the
right
age
to
serve
a
term
,
only
they
were
n't
--
long-haired
and
sloppy
and
kind
of
dirty
looking
.
Well
,
say
about
the
way
I
looked
,
I
suppose
,
before
I
joined
up
.
Presently
we
started
noticing
that
at
the
table
behind
us
,
two
of
these
young
twerps
and
two
merchant
sailors
(
to
judge
by
clothes
)
were
passing
remarks
that
were
intended
for
us
to
overhear
.
I
wo
n't
try
to
repeat
them
.
We
did
n't
say
anything
.
Presently
,
when
the
remarks
were
even
more
personal
and
the
laughs
louder
and
everybody
else
in
the
place
was
keeping
quiet
and
listening
,
Kitten
whispered
to
me
,
"
Let
's
get
out
of
here
.
"
I
caught
Pat
Leivy
's
eye
;
he
nodded
.
We
had
no
score
to
settle
;
it
was
one
of
those
pay-as-you-get-it
places
.
We
got
up
and
left
.
They
followed
us
out
.
Pat
whispered
to
me
,
"
Watch
it
.
"
We
kept
on
walking
,
did
n't
look
back
.
