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Show Flying - 57 cigarette butts, catching sllmpses from under their hatbrims as they slowly sand the rust off picks and shovels, stopping to rest on the fenders of the next truck down as they carry batteries to and from the maintenance building. Even Tucson John has been led here by his crew and is looking on with vague eyes. Biggs is looking at O'Connell. "You men," he says, "are bad soldiers. You are a disgrace to your outfit and to yourselves. You're lazy. You sit while others do your work. An Army," says Biggs still looking straight at O'Connell," is only as good as its enlisted men, and you four aren't much use to anyone, are you?" He paces back and forth in front of them for a while, apparently in deep thought. "I'm going to let you go this time," he says finally. "You show me how well you can soldier and we'll forget this ever happened. But I want to see some real soldiering out of you from now on. Screw up again and I'll have you in the stockade. You hear me, O'Connell?" And he marches off, duty done. God and country served. Tex walks by, carrying unpainted butt-cans to a spot in the shade nearby, where he has set up shop with brush and bucket. Struck by vague headaches and diseases of the teeth, |