and he manages, “You bury him?,” and Veck licks lips glossed with pigeon fat, as if debating whether Bagger is capable of understanding, before shaking his head, to which Bagger hastens to nod, he wants Veck to know he doesn’t blame him, no Yank out here has buried more men than Bagger, and he knows it’s pointless theater, one day when the Argonne grows back, it’ll grow back through doughboy skeletons as capably as from them,
and Bagger realizes Veck has quit shuddering, absolutely quit, he’s as steady as, well, the only steady thing out here, which is the dead, either something’s cured Veck’s shell shock or the opposite, something has pushed him to a place where madness has burned into vacancy,
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