“I do,” said the colonel dryly, “when my wife is too busy to get to it. I haven’t noticed that either my dignity or my efficiency have suffered appreciably. I might add,” he continued mildly, “that staff officers are supposed to set a good example for their juniors. I don’t think either your tone or your manner are those that Lieutenant Dixon should be encouraged to emulate.” He gestured toward Kurt and Blick spun on one heel.
“Lieutenant Dixon!” he roared in an incredulous voice. “By whose authority?”
“Mine,” said the colonel mildly. “In case you’ve forgotten I am still commanding officer of this battalion.”
“I protest!” said Blick. “Commissions have always been awarded by decision of the entire staff.”
“Which you now control,” replied the colonel.
Kurt coughed nervously. “Excuse me, sir,” he said, “but I think I’d better leave.”
Colonel Harris shook his head. “You’re one of our official family now, son, and you might as well get used to our squabbles. This particular one has been going on between Colonel Blick and me for years. He has no patience with some of our old customs.” He turned to Blick. “Have you, Colonel?”
“You’re right, I haven’t!” growled Blick. “And that’s why Tm going to change some of them as soon as I get the chance. The sooner we stop this Tech School nonsense and put the recruits to work in the fields where they belong, the better off we’ll all be. Why should a plowman or a hunter have to know how to read wiring diagrams or set tubes. It’s nonsense, superstitious nonsense. You!” he said, stabbing his finger into the chest of the startled lieutenant. “You! Dixon! You spent fourteen years in the Tech Schools just like I did when I was a recruit. What for?”
“To learn maintenance, of course,” said Kurt.
“What’s maintenance?” demanded Blick.