The Bluffton news. [volume] (Bluffton, Ohio) 1875-current, 1944-01-06
CHAPTER XII

Orville D. Pope, Mess Sergeant
of Headquarters Battery and mas
ter of all he surveys $50 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 sea-
soned with liniment. Don Bishop,
the public relations reporter who
sometimes shows a streak of sheer
sanity, lifted his coffee, held his
nose and drank it.
Sergeant Pope" said in small
voice, "earlier in the course of this
supper told you that had never
tasted anything harder or drier than
the bread you served us tonight. /
want to take that back, Pope. When
said that. I hadn't tasted your
peanut butter"
Sergeant Pope paused and gazed
at us with heavy disgust. "The
gentlemen of the press" he said.
There ought to be something in the
| Articles of War about letting guys
like you into respectable mess
hall"
"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-unfortu-
nately! What are you doing-saving
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 for
| your food, won't you please take all
your meals at the Service Club?"
Lets leave Mulvehills name out
Of this" l said. Poor, poor, old
Mulvehill. We knew him well. He
was good boy, was the Lieuthom-
as"
II noticed the place is SO quiet to-
night that you can even hear Bu-
shemi eating his celery" said the
sergeant. "Where is your dear
| friend Mulvehill, the bum?"
"You have run him over the hill,"
said Bishop. "Your food and your
mess hall and your brutishly foul
mouth have driven him away. He
has deserted from the Army and
his guilt is upon your hands,"
"You know the one thing that's
missing from this meal-the one
thing that would make it perfect?"
asked Bushemi. :,
'Ice cream?" asked the mess SER
geant.
'sChloroform, said Bushemi.
Pope slapped his forehead might
lily. "Why couldn't have been a
dud-picker, horse valet, suicide
submarineman anything but a
mess sergeant? Where is Mulve-
hill?" He wrinkled his forehead.
"Say! He wasn't here at break
fast either"
''Nor lunch," said Bishop. "Nor
supper, nor lunch, nor breakfast yes
terday."
"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, 'if he hadn't got decent meal
soon.'
II can remember Mulvehill just
like he was right here with us even
now," / said. ''He was a fine, no.
BILE, sensitive lad. He had beauti-
full 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 l hated
to see Mulvehill 60 over the hill"
''Cut the clowning," the sergeant
walled, convinced at last that Mulve-
hill had flown. 'sYou can't make me
think that he left because of my
food. Where is he?"
ludl, SlSileu blSHOp, Is WHAT
the War Department would like to
know"
Pope began drumming unconsci-
ously on the table. 81 know my food
is as good as any in the Center.
That amt it. Did he take offense
at something said to him and start
eating at the Service Club?"
Acton bennington Hawkins the
Third, chief cook, passed by.
where's your friend Mulvehill?" he
asked us.
"Oh," said Bushemi, forgetting the
play, 'Mulvehill's on furlough."
The mess sergeant rose with a
roar. 'The day shall comet" he
screamed. you'll all be on KIP one
of these daysl Oh, will you suffer
and will I enjoy myselfl Finish your
supper and get out of my mess
hall! Get out! GET QUIT"