OCR Text |
Show Flying - 206 attack me. And thus will I make my escape, thus will I fiee. A few weeks later I will walk out of sone Army hospital a free man. A victim of the stresses of military life. A man who just couldn't take it. I'll probably be out before O'Connell, The smell of shit and fresh line brings John Henry to a stop at the end of the company street, near the latrine. The wooden door opens and out comes Tucson John Sutter, buttoning his fly. "Howdy, sarge," says John Henry. "Howdy," says the old nan, peering through the darkness to see who it is. "All ready for the big doings tonorrow?" says John Henry. Tucson John runs his hand through his gray hair and sets his cap on straight. "I reckon I'm as ready as the next man," he says. "General doesn't scare you any?" "He puts his pants on one leg at a time, like the rest of us," says Tucson John. "He can send you or me to the stockade for a good long time," says John Henry. "He can wake up some morning and decide he'd like to have hinself an inspection, and five thousand men spend two days polishing everything they can reach, just to nake hin happy." "That don't mean his shit smells like roses," says the |