“You said it, kid,” Steve replied, not at all phased by the sergeant’s bulldozing tactics. “Do you?”
Panama’s eyes narrowed and he bit his lip, struggling with himself to keep from smashing a few teeth from this brazen newcomer’s flip mouth.
“You keep your trap shut or I’ll teach you how!” he roared as he walked along, stopping in front of Lefty.
The boy was thrilled from head to toe at the opportunity of once more standing face to face with the man who had encouraged him so that dismal afternoon in the little New Haven railroad station wash room. A broad, generous smile was plainly registered upon Lefty’s happy face as he waited for Panama to display some sign of recognition.
“Wipe that smile off your pan!” Williams bellowed and passed on to the next man.
He looked back for a moment, somewhat puzzled. Certainly he had seen that face before and the boy’s smile was probably one of recognition, but where, when or how he knew the recruit, he could not explain and furthermore, made no serious attempt to.
Panama was in the midst of his element. True to his calling, this hard-boiled sergeant had a greater penchant for talking to new recruits than eating.
He stopped a few paces back and eyed each man again before beginning to speak.
“So you want to be flyers, eh?” he drawled in an uncomplimentary manner. “You want to be birdies and go bye-bye in the clouds? Well—it will be a miracle if any of you ever leave the ground!”
Every man in the line felt a lump rise in their throats that they tried, unsuccessfully, to swallow.