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Show Flying - 49 Biggs looks him over slowly and carefully and points with the swagger stick. "You might have stood a little closer to your razor, O'Connell. And when was the last time you shined those boots?" Biggs is happy, doing what he loves to do. O'Connell is red-faced, unable to yell, curse, spit, fight, or even move. The platoon is amused. "Men," says Biggs standing once more before them when the inspection is over, "when General Patton was in France during the last war he sent a message back to the U.S. saying 'Send me men who can march, shoot, and salute.• I can't do much about your marksmanship, but while I'm your platoon leader you'll by God learn the other two. For a start," he says to sergeant Karafa, "we'll march down to the motorpool every morning instead of straggling down like a bunch of civilians." And so on down the dusty road to the battalion motorpool they march, under the happy gaze of the Black Bear, who from time to time looks at Biggs with love in his eye and calls cadence with new faith and a fine ring in his voice. White is on his way out, Biggs is in, and the world is again a place you can trust, friendly and full of order. Down the dirt road they go, pretty much in step except for the squad at the head of which O'Connell marches. He keeps changing step with a skip and a hop, in step and out of step and in step again, and each skip and hop travels down |