Honor Thy Father and Thy

“An’ what was it? Your thought,” Boyd asks, cracking open an iodine swab and painting the wound and surrounding area carefully. If it hurts, Don doesn't give him any indication. He certainly doesn't lose the crooked little smile on his face, a smile which Boyd knows very well means he's up to no good.“Well. Thanks to you boys, the whole damn platoon is calling me Wardaddy, these days,” he says, in that same drawl. Boyd snorts. This is true enough, although Boyd had nothing to do with it. “What do you figure that makes you, Bible?”