“Pinin!” the adjutant called.

His adjutant sat at another table.

The adjutant went on with his papers.

“The major wants you,” the adjutant said.

The adjutant looked after him and smiled.

“Be soft, Pinin,” the adjutant said to him.

“Yes, signor maggiore,” the adjutant answered.

In that army an adjutant is not a commissioned officer.

“I’m going to take a little sleep,” he said to the adjutant.

“Come in,” the adjutant heard the major say, “and shut the door.”

The adjutant looked up at him as he walked awkwardly across the room and out the door.

We were fifty kilometers from the front, but the adjutant worried about the fire in my kitchen.

We went along the road all night in the dark and the adjutant kept riding up alongside my kitchen and saying, “You must put it out.”