Evening star., 1943-04-15
INSTALLMENT XIII,

.Orville D. Pope, mess sergeant OF
headquarters battery and master OF
all he surveys ESQ long as he stays
in the kitchen), strolled past our
table like happy night-club owner
inspecting his saloon.
Photographer Bushemi lifted a
forkful of creamed potatoes to his
mouth, made sour face and insert
ed the potatoes as If they were
seasoned with liniment. Don Bish-
op, the public relations reporter who
sometimes shows streak Of sheer
sanity, lifted his coffee, held his
nose and drank it.
Sergeant Pope" I said in small
voice earlier in the course of this
supper I told you that I had never
tasted anything harder or drier than
the bread you served us tonight. !
want to take that back, Pope. When
I said that I hadn't tasted your
peanut butter"
Sergt. Pope paused and gaZed at
us with heavy disgust. "Ihe gentle
men of the press" he said. There
ought to be something in the Ar
ticles of War about letting guys like
you into respectable mess hail.
Then after they wrote that Arti-
Gle of War;" said Bishop, they
could put in an amendment about
letting us In mess halls like this one
of yours"
Some chow you're putting out
these days. Pope" said Bushemi
Like nothing I ever ate-unfor-
tunately! What are you doing-sav-
ing money to get married?"
You're the only ones I ever hear
gripping about the chow in this bat
terry" said Pope. you're the only
ones I ever have trouble with. You
three and Mulvehill. If I'll pay fol
your food. won't you please take all
your meals at the Service Club?"
Let's leave Mulvehill's name out
of this" I said. Poor, poor, old
Mulvehill. We knew him well. He
was a good boy, was the Lieut.
homas."
Il noticed the place is so quiet to-
night that you can even hear Bush
emf eating his celery" said the
sergeant. Where is your dear friend
Mulvehill, the bum?"
Only Chloroform Missing.
"You have run him over the hill,' "
said Bishop. your food and your
mess hall and your brutishly foul
mouth houo dyiuor hin, ou,ou TYo
has deserted from the Army, and his
guilt is upon your hands"
"You know the one thing that's
missing from this meaLthe one
thing that would make It perfect?''
asked Bushemi.
ice cream?" asked the mess SER
geant.
"Chloroform, said Bushemi.
Pope slapped his forehead might
lily. why couldn't I have been a
dud-picker, a horse valet, a suicide
submarineman - anything but a
mess sargeant? Where is Mulve-
hill?" He wrinkled his forehead.
Say! he wasn't here at breakfast,
either"
Nor lunch." said Bishop. Nor
supper. nor lunch, nor breakfast
yesterday"
He has gone over the hill," ]
said, gloomily. "He has deserted"
Lets see," said the sergeant
HE wasn't here all day today, and
he didn't come in yesterday, and he
didn't show up for supper the night
before last. Is he sick"
He would have been," said Bish-
op, ff he hadn't got a decent meal
soon."
II can remember Mulvehill Just
like he was right here with us even
now" said. HE was a fine, noble
sensitive lad. He had a beautiful
career before him in the Army. Fate
can ruin any of us by tossing in the
tiniest little monkey wrench-or the
toughest little biscuit. I hated to see
Mulvehill go over the hill"
Cut the clowning," the sergeant
walled, convinced at last that Null
vehill had flown. You can't make
me think that he left because Of my
food. Where Is he?"
That" sighed Bishop. 'is what
the War Department would like te
know"
Pope began drumming uncon-
sciously on the table. II know my
food Is as good as any in the Cen
ter. That amt it. Did he ia. nf.
fense at something I said to hin.
and start eating at the Servic,
Club?"
Acton bennington Hawkins the
Third, chief cook, passed by
where's your friend Mulvehill?" he
asked me.
"Oh," said Bushemi, forgetting the
play, "Mulvehill's on furlough."