The train slowed, stopped.
Someone called, "Here he is," and a redhaired Air Policeman leaned under the caboose, looked him over, and said, "Come on out, Pop."
Ollie's legs were stiff. The airman had to help.
"You're in kind of rough shape," he said. "Where did you think you were going?"
"Why—uh—east." Ollie cast down his eyes, ashamed even to admit he'd once entertained the notion he might get a job.
The airman wasn't fooled. "You slipped through the train guards after the job we've got here. Didn't you, Pop?"
"All I want is out," said Ollie stubbornly.
"Well," said the airman, "you can't get off the Base without a pass. You'll have to go up to Civilian Personnel and get one."
"Can't I wash first?"
He could. He could also get a jeep ride to the terra-cotta headquarters building, with a stop along the way for a canteen-cup of coffee and a slice of bread.