“Do you birds know anything about being the commander of the guard?” asked Tommy with some concern.
“No,” replied Fat.
“Sure,” answered Long John. “I was chucked out of the first training camp. First, you have to have a gun.”
“A rifle?” asked Tommy.
“No, you little sap. Officers don’t carry rifles, or flying lieutenants either. A pistol.”
“But I ain’t got a pistol.”
“Borrow one then. Do you know the general orders?”
“I don’t know any generals, orders or debility either.”
“Never mind trying to be funny. You may find out it ain’t no joke about generals. The Old Boy himself and the Silly Civilian are going to inspect the post tomorrow. I saw the orders over at the operations office for every machine to be up that can get off the ground. I suppose that means a lot more long walks. But it’s most time for guard mount; you’d better run along and find a gun.”
Tommy disappeared and finally returned with a regulation web belt and holster in one hand, and a .25 caliber automatic in the other.