Why Worry?

In a Solomons dressing station a Marine sergeant with a wound in his throat got his sixth transfusion, made signs for paper and pencil, wrote:

"Will I live? Will I speak?"

The doctor nodded reassurance on both counts. The Marine signed off with a flourish:

"Then what the hell am I worrying about!"

This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so reader's discretion is required.