The midland journal. (Rising Sun, Md.) 1885-1947, 1944-09-29

81 like it, SIR" Mr.. Wrinkle knew
this to be the stock answer to the
question.
The Lieutenant seemed to know
1t, too, and to want little more in
formation, for he rephrased the
question. Happy in it?"
Mr.. Wrinkle hesitated.
ANSWER just the way you feel"
the Lieutenant instructed.
''Well, can't say I'm happy, sir.
I'm not exactly fighter, that is,
with my fists, so to speak. And be-
ing away from my wife and ="
''Your regular work? You miss
that?"
eyes. sir. But / recognize why
I'm here"
"You know the new regulations
that went into effect the other day.
You're over thirty-eight and can get
discharge if you 60 into war in
dustry. Why haven't you applied?"
Amy had written that she would
leave it up to him, and that she
would be proud of him no matter
what he decided. AS yet he hadn't
given her a formal answer. Now he
prepared it.
''I'd like to stay in the Army"
he heard himself telling the Lieuten-
ant. eff you want me-
The Lieutenant glanced at him
once, with approval. "I'm going to
ask you one more question, Wrinkle.
Think it over before you answer.
Are you afraid?"
Don't be ashamed of it," the
Lieutenant advised. He smiled. "If
you'd told me you weren't afraid,
I would have known you weren't
speaking the truth. And I don't
mean you alone, but all the men in
Guiding myself. It's normal thing,
like being nervous before making a
speech. Usually you make better
speech because you're nervous. It's
the same way with fighting. Fear
makes you more aware, keener,
alert-a better fighter. No soldier
has ever gone into battle without
being afraid-if he has, there was
something the matter with him."
"Don't connect my lecture" the
Lieutenant went on, with the fact
that I'm recommending you for the
Motor Mechanics School. I simply
feel that's where you belong, by pre-
vious experience, and at your age.
And you may have to fight there, or
be so close to it that it's virtually
the same thing. That's all, and
good luck to you"
It was a moment before Mr.. Win
kle could scramble to his feet and
salute. GOOD luck to you, sir
that is, thank you, sir"
Mr.. Wrinkle felt that the Army had
something of soul after all. While
he didn't exactly walk on air, which
was impossible, anyway, being an
Army mechanic was work he would
like better than marching or shoot
ing. At least it found round hole
for him to fit in more comfortably
than the one he now occupied.
Mr.. Tinker, on the other hand,
when the Redistribution notices
were posted on the bulletin board
and his name was listed with that of
Mr.. Wrinkle, was not pleased.
"Me!" he complained. 81 amt
in the Army to be any nursemaid to
a jeep. 1t amt right! 1t amt right
for a minute!"
"You better write to the Secretary
of War about it," advised one of his
squad who was remaining an infan-
tryman. "You just write to him
and he'll fix it up for you"
The Messrs. Wrinkle and Tinker
moved in new circles.
They changed to barracks at one
of the far ends of Camp Squibb, so
many miles away that it might have
/, been a different world. Their asso-
ciates were all mechanically inclined
individuals. These spoke their Ian
guage better than had their previous
companions, and over them all was
a slightly technical aura.
Their Office during business hours
was a large, hangar-like building.
Two lines of engines, mounted on
high wooden frames, were placed
down its length. On these they
worked, in select groups of four,
with a Technical Corporal over each
quartet, and a supervising Captain
miraculously clad in coveralls like
their own.
Mr.. Wrinkle, who could repair any
thing, here really learned about
Army regulations, which presumed
that he knew nothing about COM
bustion engine. They also held that
there was only one way to do a
specified job, the Army way, and
that anything else might as well
1 not exist.
''We will now" lectured his Cor
poral instructor, ''locate the trouble
in this engine, which won't rum" To
illustrate, he turned on the ignition
and pressed the starter with his
hand. The motor turned over, but
refused to start. The Corporal looked
about at his four men, peering at
their Municipalities. 'Winkle, you