He ordered and paid for another round. There was something peculiar here that he didn’t understand. Just then there was the sound of another motorcycle outside.
“The officer of the day!” exclaimed the tough man with the arm band, rushing out. Tommy heard his voice raised placatingly.
“Yes, sir,” it said. “I just went in to see if there was anybody inside, but there was no one there.”
“All right, get on with the patrol,” said another voice.
The two motorcycles roared away. Tommy was bewildered. He left the café and walked back to the barrack. Perhaps he could find out there what it all meant. Although he bore lieutenant’s bars on his shoulders, he was as innocent of the Army and its ways as a baby.
At the open ended barrack he found the flying lieutenants gathered around the stove. Among them was Long John, and he singled him out and told him his queer story. To Tommy’s surprise he burst into raucous laughter.
“Hey, Fat! Hey, guys! Listen to this, will ya! This bird goes up the road to the café that’s out of bounds, and when the M.P. comes in he asks him to have a drink.”
Chorus—
“Yeah?”