"You've got it stuck between the bunk post."
"I know that."
"I don't think this is the way to do it," Major Winship said. "Let's back the drum out."
Reluctantly, they backed the drum out and deposited it. With the aid of Capt. Lawler, Lt. Chandler got the table unstuck. They passed it over to Major Winship, who handed it out to Capt. Wilkins. Captain Wilkins carried it around the drum of calking compound and set it down. It rested uneasily on the uneven surface.
"Now, let's go," said Major Winship.
Eventually, they accomplished the moving. They wedged the drum between the main air-supply tank and the transmitter. They were all perspiring. "It's not the weight, it's the mass," said Capt. Wilkins brightly.
"The hell it isn't the weight," said Lt. Chandler. "That's heavy."
"With my reefer out," said Major Winship, "I'm the one it's rough on." He shook perspiration out of his eyes. "They should figure a way to get a mop in here, or a towel, or a sponge, or something. I'll bet you've forgotten how much sweat stings in the eyes."
"It's the salt."
"Speaking of salt. I wish I had some salt tablets," Major Winship said. "I've never sweat so much since basic."