10 Fuse
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“All right, you dogs, roll call,” shouted Quint—gruffly, briskly, like a true leatherneck. “Alpha Battalion is ‘go’ for launch—and I mean hot to trot. I repeat: I am ‘go’ for launch. Bravo Company—sound off like you got a pair.”
Quint and I waited: Nothing. Not so much as a peep.
At last, Jesse said, in a voice deeper than usual: “Yes—yes, sir!” He laughed. “Bravo Company standing by! And hot to trot, sir!”
“Better late than never,” said Quint—like a disappointed drill instructor—before adding, “Okay, faster now, more intense: Forward-Battalion Charlie—let’s hear it.”
“Sir, yes, sir!”
I took up my position at the base of the stairs—having just come down from loosening the doorknob—watching the entrance to the basement like a hawk; crouching over my rockets and missi
