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Show Flying - 142 to destroy the planet you stand on. But it sure looks beautiful through this morning fog. And warm. He waves to Jackson who is coming down the hill to meet him. "Twenty more minutes and we're done for the day, man," says Jackson, shivering in the cool damp air and brushing the dew off his carbine. "I hope the bastards are on time," says John Henry. "I could, sure use a little sleep." They talk quietly, standing in the clearing fog, looking down on the dirt road that runs through the middle of the camp. Karafa comes cut of the latrine and walks slowly back to his tent. Nothing else moves. "Do you find they treat you different in the army because you're black?" says John Henry, suddenly deciding that he might as well ask. How else is he going to know? "Treat me different? Why no, man, they don't treat me different. There's a law against it, don't you know that? We all got to be treated exactly alike." He says it with a gentle smile and a look of perfect contentment with his fate. Is he putting me down? Shouldn't I have asked? But I'm from upstate New York and don't know about these things. I'm genuinely interested. Equality is important to me. "There's lots of black sergeants," says John Henry. |