Trooper Tales — page 209: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

The Last Cell to the Right. 19 5 American soldier. He was mightily attached to the white potatoes of the American soldier. In order that I might be comfortably chummy with the brown baby the duty devolved upon me to give him a thorough grooming. First I cut down an army undershirt into a sort of ulster for my diminutive friend. He watched me soberly. He still held part of the potato in his brown hands. His face was smeared with it, the result of a peculiar process of absorption. I then rolled up my sleeves, put a heavy charge into my pipe, and recklessly cut off Tad’s garment, which was so crowded with associations. Tad tolerated the idea. The soldier who gave him big, white potatoes was entitled to some consideration. I had often wondered why his slate-colored hair grew in patches. I ascertained the reason. It must be imagined. With a box of matches I succeeded in changing his for- mer garment into ashes. Tad was finishing the potato, while I sweated for several reasons, the heat included. With the most trying part of the task over I turned to the soap and the brown baby. Such a shock I received that moment can never be ade- quately expressed. From motives of charity and others I had undertaken to scrub the child down. Well, all I can say is that I did it very hurriedly and with averted face. As a matter of fact, I beckoned to one of the con- vict women and made her finish the job. I gave direc- tions at a modest distance. Tad was allowed to dry in the sun. SHE was as shiny and rosy after the operation as only Porto Rican babies are. The mother, crouching CONNIE HNOOKS EO