"That is silly. Taking off is not the same thing as losing." He reaches out to give one of the woolen sleeves a quick, playful tug. The younger boy is so serious, nothing at all like the Russian children Martin has seen on television or in books and youth magazines. They always look so happy and proud; saluting at Pioneer camp or visiting with soldiers or helping on collective farms. If it wasn't for the uniform it would be difficult to tell that this boy is one of them.

"If you take them off and put them somewhere safe they will not get lost." Martin pauses suddenly, struck by a new thought. "Do you have somewhere safe?"

They are both in enemy territory after all, like Indian scouts trapped behind American lines in a film, and it never hit him until that moment that his younger comrade might not have the luxury of a base like adult Martin's apartment. If he did why would he be standing on the street close to tears?