“Hey, Berting!” Mang Kanor shouted. “What happened to your face? Did you trip from fear? Where were you assigned? The camp kitchen? Hahaha!”
Berting said nothing. He simply lowered his head, took what he bought, and walked home. He was used to pain. He had endured far worse than the words of drunken men.
Days passed, and the gossip only worsened. Some said he had been dishonorably discharged. Others claimed he had gone crazy in the mountains. No one wanted to talk to Berting.
One afternoon, while Mang Kanor was once again causing a commotion at the drinking spot and bragging loudly—
BRRMMM—BRRMMM—BRRMMM!
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