Snipe drew back a pace, noting even in the dark that his challenger was aiming a large weapon toward him. “Point that thing the other way,” he said. “It’s Lieutenant Snipe, on orders from the major.”
“Oh, sorry, sir,” said the legionnaire. A small red light appeared in his hand, briefly illuminating Snipe’s face-and his own. Snipe got a momentary glimpse of a dark pompadour, long sideburns…
“I thought you had to go the other way,” said Snipe, beginning to wonder if this legionnaire was following him for some reason.
“No, sir, this is my post,” said the legionnaire, just loud enough to be heard. Then he drew closer and whispered, “Say, if you don’t mind telling me, sir, are we going to see action tonight? Seems awful long for a drill.”
“I’m damned if I know what’s going on anymore,” said Snipe. “That’s why I’m out here. Have you seen any sign of action?”
“No, sir,” said the legionnaire. “Quiet as a mouse, right here. You’re the first person I’ve seen.”
“I see,” said Snipe. “Wait a minute. I hear something over there!” He pointed toward the dark shadow he assumed was the supply depot.
Before they could react, a group of dark figures dashed up to them. Snipe felt what had to be the muzzle of a weapon pressed against his midsection. “What are you doing here?” growled a low voice.
“L-l-lieutenant Snipe,” he managed to stammer. “M-major’s orders.”
“Snipe? Not bloody likely,” said one of the newcomers. “He’s probably sitting in his soft bunk while the real legionnaires run the show. Give me a light, here.”