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Show Flying - 179 my real self. The r e a l John Henry will shuck off this base disguise and re-appear in a l l his native splendor. Just one moment, ladies and gentlemen. A l i t t l e trouble with this army underwear. A small hitch. The transformation will resume in a moment. From a tent ahead of them steps Tucson John Sutter, putting on h i s hat and tucking in his fatigue jacket. "What's this I hear you f e l l e r s took out a truck and wrecked i t ? " he says, looking at O'Connell. • "Don't look at me, sarge, I wasn't even driving," O'Connell says. "You were a l l drunk, weren't you?" says Tucson John. "A big t a r a n t u l a dropped out of the canvas top and landed on my lap and I l o s t control," says Thompson. "It could have happened to anybody." "Don't s h i t me," says Tucson John. "Save that for the captain. You guys went and got drunk and just ran the damn thing off the road, right?" The old cowboy scratches his armpit and looks then straight in the eye. His face looks like old leather and he stares right into the s e t t i n g sun without blinking. A r e l ic of the Old West, is Tucson John. A man who's gazed at nany a distant horizon, sat the broad back of many a working pony. Who can r o l l a c i g a r e t t e with one hand in a s t i f f wind. Now he stands before then in olive-drab fatigues, pretending to be a soldier. |