Glenon had long since left Hog Heaven. He would, in fact, have been celebrating his safe return home with a very sound sleep had it not been for A-Bomb, who was standing over his bed, urging him to get up and party. "Screw off," said Glenon. "Get out of my tent. I'm tired." "Doberman, you are one lucky motherfucker. You have to celebrate." "You don't know what you're talking about." "Anybody else would have been shot down." "I call that skill." "You're on a roll, man. It's time to celebrate. Come on, let's hit the Depot before it wears off." "I'm not going near Depot for the rest of the war." "Well at least come and play cards. Shit, I want to sit next to you." "Why, so you can look at my hand?" "So your luck rubs off on me. Hell, man, today's the day you win the lottery." "Damn it A-Bomb, leave me alone. I’m not lucky. I'm unlucky." "How do you figure that?" asked Mongoose, coming into the room. "Doesn't anybody knock anymore?" complained Doberman. "I did. The canvas doesn't make much noise," said the major.
