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Show Flying - 196 CHAPTER XIV Tired John Henry, weary of the war, sits on the edge of his canvas cot polishing with great care the toe of a combat boot.. Lay on the wax, sprinkle on a little water, and work it in carefully, with a bit more water now and then, until the leather gleams like the hand-rubbed lacquer on a hot-rodder's dream. Some old-timers swear that spit is better than water, but John Henry prefers not to invest so much of himself in the task. Without shouting or celebration, without proclamation or treaty, with no fireworks or rejoicing crowds in Times Square (those were the good old days, Sergeant Armstrong says) the fighting is over. Beaten by the might of the Sixth Army (General Jack Freneau commanding) the aggressors have packed up and gone back home to Bragg and Benning, Campbell and Carson, Leonard Wood and little Camp Polk in the Louisiana swamps. The Fifty-third is sitting tight, getting ready for tomorrow's inspection by the General, after which it too can leave this war-torn coast and go home to Fort Hood, hot meals, and a real bed to sleep in. We came and we conquered. Or so they tell us. For all we know the invading forces might have burned Washington and raped the First Lady of the land while we played games in these yellow hills. The overall tactical situation is |