“Do you hear me talking to you? What’s your name? Take your slimy eyes off me and look to the front!” sternly commands young Mars, coming a few steps nearer. The new arrival looks blank and tries to digest all of the orders at once.
“You other man in the green necktie, come here!” shouts this cadet officer as he catches sight of a tall lanky civilian in a Hart, Schaffner, Marx suit, long flat tan shoes, and a flaming green necktie, who has just sauntered through the sally-port.
“You man, there, do you hear me talking to you? Step out!”
The Green Necktie smilingly approaches the cadet officer, deposits his dress suitcase on the ground, and mops his brow.
“How do you do?” he cordially remarks, “my name is Jinks. ”
The cadet officer glares.
“Your name is Mr. Jinks, SIR,” he shouts. “Mr. Jinks, you get that!”
“And you too, Mr. Dumbguard,” turning to the chap with the Harvard spectacles, “don’t you forget to put a Sir on the end of your name. Who do you think you are around here? Stand up, both of you. Turn down the cuffs on your trousers, button up your coats, take off all of those badges and scarfpins and stick them in your pocket. What do you think this place is? a school for dudes? Put your hats on straight!”
Command follows command with machine-gun rapidity. The green necktie is almost smothered from view as the candidate buttons his coat, and reluctantly the cuffs on the trousers are turned down.
“Pick up those suitcases and follow me.”