Friday afternoon with the Marines

Branning had made all of twelve strokes with his carving knife before his bladder started complaining. Ten strokes later, he was obliged to shift his position to get slightly more comfortable. Finally, just as a vague shape was beginning to appear in the block of wood, he decided that he would have to pause the work to make a quick trip to the head.

The journey topside was made swiftly enough, but Branning decided he'd take his time making his way back down to the messdeck. It was somewhat cooler topside and he enjoyed the ruffling breeze. Then there was something interesting to watch, too. Shriver was on field punishment. Branning fished out his tobacco pouch from his jacket and took a pinch. Poor Shriver, the big Marine thought without any real feeling of sympathy. There weren't many Marines that Branning disliked, but Shriver was one of them.