H. P. S. Greene

“ John inquired of the world in general. “Here’s a guy knows so little about the Army that he doesn’t even know an M.P. when he sees one, and here he gets command of a squadron. You’ll get out of reveille and standing morning formation on that, and have an orderly to shine your boots for you. You can have them build off a separate room for you in their barrack with a stove in it. Pretty soft for a squadron commander, I’ll say.”
“But what will I command them to do?” Tommy asked anxiously.
“Let Old Krause and the adjutant worry about that,” returned John. ”

“ There was a clatter on the duckboards outside and a horde of flying lieutenants trouped in, making loud noises and crowding around the stove. Tommy scanned their faces anxiously, but there was nobody there he knew. A tall, thin man eyed him in a friendly manner, and Tommy asked him to help him with his baggage. The other assented readily, and they excavated the large French trunk and fancy bed roll which marked a man who had enlisted in Paris, and one by one dragged them inside.
“You might as well take this bunk next to me and Fat,” said the tall man, who was known as Long John. ”

“ With every step, the man in front scuffed snow and equally cold mud up against his bare, raw knees, and soon his boots were full.
In other parts of the great field where they marched there were other processions of unfortunates, one of flying cadets, one of cadets, and also several companies of mechanics. They, however, had the advantage of expecting the march, and were fully dressed. Most of the flying lieutenants were not. But at last it came to an end, and in the doubtful shelter of the barrack once more Tommy wiped the mud from his cold wet knees with a towel.
“Where can I take a bath?” ”

“ HERMAN KRAUSE, MAJOR, SIGNAL CORPS.
“What’s the idea ordering some guy to ‘Death in Line of Duty’?” he asked Long John.
“Huh? Oh, they always do that when some bird gets bumped,” answered the tall man. “You’re in Section 13, same as me. We go to rotary motors in the morning, and then machine gun.”
“What do you mean, rotary motors?” inquired Tommy. ”

“ She led Tommy to a small office of some sort, wherein a man in American uniform was sitting gloomily alone before a bottle of wine. The little pilot recoiled at sight of the gold leaves on his shoulders, but it wasn’t Major Krause who sat there. On this major’s blouse were the _Legion of Honor_, the _Medaille Militaire_, and the _Croix de Guerre_ with many palms, instead of the jingling hardware Krause carried to show that he was a marksman or something ”

“ Why, oh why, hadn’t he kept on following Long John’s advice about keeping out of sight?
“This is Lieutenant Lang, sir,” said the adjutant silkily, “the commanding officer of the 946th Aero Squadron on this Post. We were discussing a very serious error in one of his reports.”
“Oh, it is, is it?” said Major Krause angrily. “I was going to send for you. I issued orders that all commanding officers of organizations on this post should personally give their units an hour’s close order drill every morning. Yesterday morning I saw a sergeant drilling your squadron. Where were you, sir? ”

“ John cackled with raucous glee.
“Bath?” he snorted. “Hey, guys, here’s an _hombre_ wants to know where he can take a bath.”
“Bath?” said Fat. “Why, Paris is the last place I had a bath, and I don’t expect to have another one till I die and go back there. You’ll get no baths here. There’s a bath-house in town, but you can’t go there, for the post’s been quarantined ever since it was started. The M.P.’s know that anybody that goes A. W. O. L. will want a bath, so they keep a special guard over the bath-house to pick you up, just like at the barrooms.” ”

“ They always give it to us when they can’t think of anything else for us to do.”
“But I’ve flown hundreds of miles with rotary motors,” Tommy exclaimed. “I made all my _voyages_ and my altitude test for my brevet with them.”
“Never mind that,” returned Long John. “You’ll probably have all the more lectures about ’em on that account.”
They returned to the barrack, and Tommy started to unpack his things. From his bed roll he produced a pair of rubber boots, made in such a close imitation of regulation officers’ boots that it took a close inspection to see that they weren’t the real article. ”

“ Then one day a body of men marched into camp in column of fours, a military evolution which the ambulance drivers regarded with pitying contempt.
“Who are those men?” the question ran around.
“Ground school men,” was the reply, and the ex-ambulanciers immediately joined together in one clique against the others. ”

“ Finally he addressed the driver out of sheer boredom.
“Pretty sad dump around here, ain’t it?” he remarked obviously.
“Sad?” inquired the truck driver, a horse faced man with a large bulge in his cheek, who suggested mules rather than mechanical means of locomotion. “Sad? Say, Lieutenant, you ain’t seen nuthin’ yet! Wait till you see the flyin’ field. They have to lay duckboards to get out to the airyplanes on. The only birds who have a good time around there are the Dutchmen—prisoners, you know. ”

“ Most of the fellows just put on boots and overcoats to stand the call, and then come back to bed again. You can pull those things on in a minute and get by with them.”
“A good idea,” proclaimed Tommy, and went to bed with that idea in mind. ”

“ Tommy wiped most of the grease out of his dish with his handkerchief and then returned the mess kit to Long John at the barrack with an apology.
The tall man and Fat were about to start for the operations room to find out the schedule for the next day, and invited Tommy to come along. On the bulletin board he found that he had been assigned to Section 13. Various other changes in sections were posted, but the last one took his eye. It read:
1st. ”