“Don’t tell me it’s for Gerald,” Tony said. “It just wouldn’t fit that guy.”
“No—remember his last name,” Max said. “His folks—or at least his father—was Italian back a couple of generations. The name is Scotti. And his first name is Geronimo!”
“Geronimo!”
Both Dick and Tony cried out at once, and sat up, looking with disbelief at Max Burckhardt.
“You’re kidding!” Dick said, shaking his head. “Why, that’s what we yell when we jump—to overcome the sudden change in pressure against our ear drums. And just because the lieutenant’s a paratrooper somebody’s called him Geronimo as a gag.”
“No, it’s really official,” Max insisted. “I was over at headquarters gabbin’ with Joe Silcek while he pecked away at his typewriter. I saw it on an official list.”
“An official list?” Donnelly said, concern wrinkling his forehead.
“Sure—what’s wrong?” Max asked. “I wasn’t lookin’ at anything I shouldn’t. It was right there—everybody’s name on it in our company.”
“Oh, everybody’s,” Dick said, and was silent.
“What’s the matter, Sarge?” Tony Avella laughed. “You act as if you’d been caught travelin’ under a phony name and Max had found you out.”