“Here they are,” he bellowed, “sending us another squadron of mechanics, when we haven’t got half enough room or work for the ones we have now. I don’t know what we’ll do with them. We’ll have to try to pry another of those folding barracks out of the French. And they have no officers, and neither have we, though there’s a whole camp full of young fools with commissions around here. But we’ll have to pick out one of them to command the squadron, just to sign the reports that go in. Have you anybody to suggest?”
“Well,” said the adjutant, “here’s a man got in today named Lang, whose commission dates back to September, earlier than most of the others, but I don’t know anything about him.”
“I know too much about most of the others,” said Major Krause. “Give him a trial. Perhaps he may know something about his military duties. By the way, did you tell the commanding officer of those officers in the unfinished barrack that if they wanted it finished they could do it themselves?”
“Yes, sir, and they said they hadn’t got cards to the Flying Carpenters’ Union, and they didn’t give a damn whether it was finished or not. They kicked a lot about having to go out and pick up stones off the flying field in full uniform, too, because the German prisoners stood around and laughed at them.”
“They did, did they?” roared Major Krause. “What they need is discipline, and I’m going to give it to them! Tell Captain Yuma to give them an hour’s close order drill every morning after roll call.”
“Yes, sir,” said the adjutant with satisfaction.
Next morning Tommy woke with a start. He was cold and cramped from the night on the narrow bunk with insufficient blankets, and for a moment he thought that he was back in the ambulance sleeping on a stretcher. Then he saw the other flyers rushing out of the barrack and realized where he was. He rolled quickly out of his bunk, dragged on the rubber boots, shuffled into his trench coat, which barely covered his bare knees, grabbed his hat and ran out after them, only to slip and come tumbling out of the barrack head first, amid hoarse guffaws from the other sufferers lined up outside. It had snowed a couple of inches during the night, and the sharp flakes bit into his tender knees. He scrambled to his feet and lined up with the rest.
The short, fat captain to whom he had reported the day before called the roll in his squeaky voice, and then at the top of his lungs cried—
“Squads right!”