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Dillinger
belonged
to
us
,
he
was
still
on
our
rolls
.
Even
though
we
did
n't
want
him
,
even
though
we
should
never
have
had
him
,
even
though
we
would
have
been
happy
to
disclaim
him
,
he
was
a
member
of
our
regiment
.
We
could
n't
brush
him
off
and
let
a
sheriff
a
thousand
miles
away
handle
it
.
If
it
has
to
be
done
,
a
man
--
a
real
man
--
shoots
his
own
dog
himself
;
he
does
n't
hire
a
proxy
who
may
bungle
it
.
The
regimental
records
said
that
Dillinger
was
ours
,
so
taking
care
of
him
was
our
duty
.
That
evening
we
marched
to
the
parade
grounds
at
slow
march
,
sixty
beats
to
the
minute
(
hard
to
keep
step
,
when
you
're
used
to
a
hundred
and
forty
)
,
while
the
band
played
"
Dirge
for
the
Unmourned
.
"
Then
Dillinger
was
marched
out
,
dressed
in
M.
I.
full
dress
just
as
we
were
,
and
the
band
played
"
Danny
Deever
"
while
they
stripped
off
every
trace
of
insignia
,
even
buttons
and
cap
,
leaving
him
in
a
maroon
and
light
blue
suit
that
was
no
longer
a
uniform
.
The
drums
held
a
sustained
roll
and
it
was
all
over
.
We
passed
in
review
and
on
home
at
a
fast
trot
I
do
n't
think
anybody
fainted
and
I
do
n't
think
anybody
quite
got
sick
,
even
though
most
of
us
did
n't
eat
much
dinner
that
night
and
I
've
never
heard
the
mess
tent
so
quiet
.
But
,
grisly
as
it
was
(
it
was
the
first
time
I
had
seen
death
,
first
time
for
most
of
us
)
,
it
was
not
the
shock
that
Ted
Hendrick
's
flogging
was
--
I
mean
,
you
could
n't
put
yourself
in
Dillinger
's
place
;
you
did
n't
have
any
feeling
of
:
"
It
could
have
been
me
.
"
Not
counting
the
technical
matter
of
desertion
,
Dillinger
had
committed
at
least
four
capital
crimes
;
if
his
victim
had
lived
,
he
still
would
have
danced
Danny
Deever
for
any
one
of
the
other
three
--
kidnapping
,
demand
of
ransom
,
criminal
neglect
,
etc.
.
I
had
no
sympathy
for
him
and
still
have
n't
.
That
old
saw
about
"
To
understand
all
is
to
forgive
all
"
is
a
lot
of
tripe
.
Some
things
,
the
more
you
understand
the
more
you
loathe
them
.
My
sympathy
is
reserved
for
Barbara
Anne
Enthwaite
whom
I
had
never
seen
,
and
for
her
parents
,
who
would
never
again
see
their
little
girl
.
As
the
band
put
away
their
instruments
that
night
we
started
thirty
days
of
mourning
for
Barbara
and
of
disgrace
for
us
,
with
our
colors
draped
in
black
,
no
music
at
parade
,
no
singing
on
route
march
.
Only
once
did
I
hear
anybody
complain
and
another
boot
promptly
asked
him
how
he
would
like
a
full
set
of
lumps
?
Certainly
,
it
had
n't
been
our
fault
--
but
our
business
was
to
guard
little
girls
,
not
kill
them
.
Our
regiment
had
been
dishonored
;
we
had
to
clean
it
.
We
were
disgraced
and
we
felt
disgraced
.
That
night
I
tried
to
figure
out
how
such
things
could
be
kept
from
happening
.
Of
course
,
they
hardly
ever
do
nowadays
--
but
even
once
is
'
way
too
many
.
I
never
did
reach
an
answer
that
satisfied
me
.
This
Dillinger
--
he
looked
like
anybody
else
,
and
his
behavior
and
record
could
n't
have
been
too
odd
or
he
would
never
have
reached
Camp
Currie
in
the
first
place
.
I
suppose
he
was
one
of
those
pathological
personalities
you
read
about
--
no
way
to
spot
them
.
Well
,
if
there
was
no
way
to
keep
it
from
happening
once
,
there
was
only
one
sure
way
to
keep
it
from
happening
twice
.
Which
we
had
used
.
