"REMEMBER WATAHANTOWET?" he asked me. "I remember," I said. Then he smiled at the "penguin" who was trying to make him comfortable in her lap; her wimple was covered with his blood, and she had wrapped as much of her habit around him as she could manage--because he was shivering. "'... WHOSOEVER LIVETH AND BELIEVETH IN ME SHALL NEVER DIE,'" Owen said to her. The nun nodded in agreement; she made the sign of the cross over him. Then Owen smiled at Major Rawls. "PLEASE SEE TO IT THAT I GET SOME KIND OF MEDAL FOR THIS," he asked the major, who bowed his head--and cranked his tourniquet tighter. There was only the briefest moment, when Owen looked stricken--something deeper and darker than pain crossed over his face, and he said to the nun who held him: "I'M AWFULLY COLD, SISTER--CAN'T YOU DO SOMETHING?" Then whatever had troubled him passed over him completely, and he smiled again--he looked at us all with his old, infuriating smile. Then he looked only at me. "YOU'RE GETTING"