Rare Earth
is peeking over my shoulder as I write. When I typed the name, 'Shakespeare,' Morris asked, 'What company's he in?' And I replied, 'Good company, I hope.' Would you like to know what a company clerk does? So would I. He's the big noise that makes up the list of fellows who are to go on Kitchen Police each day. Kitchen Police, I might mention, are the Gold Dust Twins of the army. Sometimes it is possible to keep your friends off this prosaic duty. The other day my casual friend, Scobee Trent, came to me and said, 'They are going on a thirty mile hike Thursday and I don't feel ambitious enough to go, therefore if you could arrange to put me on K.P. that day I would consider it a favor.' 'Anything to oblige a friend,' I said. And so Thursday found Mr. Trent doing housework in the kitchen.
But the best laid plans of mice and men and company clerks go somewhat awry when big events strut in and of course this war is a colossal undertaking. Thursday was a very
hot day. In the morning soon after dawning
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