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Show Flying - 221 pass on without word or look. By straining hard, John Henry can see the whole thing without turning his head: the trembling privates, the officers following with deference their leader's slow progress, the General himself, white hair showing under the front of his fatigue hat, lines of pain on his face, an old nan caught in the great moral curve of the universe. Suffering. But the bastard has made ne suffer. My conpassion will get me nothing. He must not be allowed to pity me. The General is through with the second platoon now, and coming toward the third. John Henry feels his fingers trembling and holds himself firmly in check. Stay cool, John Henry, stay cool. Let it happen the way it must. All you have to do is ride the great curve, John Henry, just stay right in the groove and ride it to freedom. Up front, Freneau and Wilberforce are saluting each other and turning to come down the line, Karafa two paces behind, ahead of the General's aide and the company commander. The rest of the staff is no longer with the General, off inspecting mess-halls and supply tents, perhaps. Freneau Is walking along the rank of the third squad now, and John Henry, in the fourth squad, waits and watches him. A distinguished-looking old man, this General. Dressed in the simple olive-drab fatigues, three stars on each shoulder, a blue and silver combat infantry badge on his breast. |
