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Show Flying - 182 "I think I've got i t now, Sergeant Hover," he says. The sergeant picks up the phone on his desk. "You better have i t , Kowalski," he says. "You been at i t damn near an hour." He turns the crank. "Switchboard? Give ne Bison," he y e l l s. "Not Buffalo, Bison," he shouts a moment l a t e r . "Don't you people know anything up there?" He l i s t e n s for a minute, then slams the phone down. "Now the goddamn r a d i o ' s out," he says. "Five more years, and then I'm gonna r e t i r e from this nan's army and never look at another telephone. I'm going out to a place I got a l l picked out in Montana. You ever been to Montana, lieutenant?" "No," says Wilberforce. "But i t ' s pretty wild country, i s n ' t i t ? What are you going to do out there?" "I'm going to r a i s e bees," says the sergeant with the eyes of an enthusiast. "I'm going to raise bees and make the best honey west of the Mississippi. Sweet and thick and with a taste like the smell of a p r a i r i e - f u l l of clover in the summertime." I may look l i k e an ordinary sergeant, but underneath it a l l . . . . If I meet Just one more, I think I ' l l vomit, thinks John Henry. Sergeant-novelists, sergeant-poets, sergeant-farmers, sergeant-entrepreneurs, and now God help us a l l in our hour of need, a sergeant-bee-keeper with a touch of the poet in him. Sergeant-painters, sergeant-cabinet- |