Hamlin stood in the doorway smiling at us.

“There’s something you can all do,” he said.

“Yes?” asked John heartily

“You can all go to hell!” said Mr. Hamlin.

We heard the door slam, and his hobnailed boots pounding down the stairs.  No one spoke.  Instead, in unhappy silence, we stood staring at the floor.  Where the uniform had lain was a pool of mud and melted snow and the darker stains of stale blood.