Later that evening, after infuriating the doctor, Winters inexplicably received a small bag jingling with reward coins from the smiling customs boss and a Customs Third-Class Service Medal was pinned to his chest.
Amid the discordant march played by the makeshift orchestra, Winters and Bard carried Major Moritz on a stretcher as they were escorted out of the smugglers' prison.
The heavy prison gate closed with a resounding "bang" behind them, leaving thirty-three warrant officers and one seriously injured major dumped at the prison entrance.
Is that it, then? Is the matter resolved?
Where are we supposed to go now?
What about Major General Layton?
The officer trainees looked at each other, at a loss.
"Anyhow, let's get some wagons first! We need to get the major back to the army headquarters," Winters proposed loudly. It was better to act than to stand around idly; they certainly couldn't take turns carrying the major all the way back to the army headquarters, could they?