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And
yet
there
was
much
truth
in
what
the
Navy
gunner
had
said
.
We
cap
troopers
are
like
aviators
of
the
earlier
mechanized
wars
;
a
long
and
busy
military
career
could
contain
only
a
few
hours
of
actual
combat
facing
the
enemy
,
the
rest
being
:
train
,
get
ready
,
go
out
--
then
come
back
,
clean
up
the
mess
,
get
ready
for
another
one
,
and
practice
,
practice
,
practice
,
in
between
.
We
did
n't
make
another
drop
for
almost
three
weeks
and
that
on
a
different
planet
around
another
star
--
a
Bug
colony
.
Even
with
Cherenkov
drive
,
stars
are
far
apart
.
In
the
meantime
I
got
my
corporal
's
stripes
,
nominated
by
Jelly
and
confirmed
by
Captain
Deladrier
in
the
absence
of
a
commissioned
officer
of
our
own
.
Theoretically
the
rank
would
not
be
permanent
until
approved
against
vacancy
by
the
Fleet
M.
I.
repple-depple
,
but
that
meant
nothing
,
as
the
casualty
rate
was
such
that
there
were
always
more
vacancies
in
the
T.
O.
than
there
were
warm
bodies
to
fill
them
.
I
was
a
corporal
when
Jelly
said
I
was
a
corporal
;
the
rest
was
red
tape
.
But
the
gunner
was
not
quite
correct
about
"
loafing
"
;
there
were
fifty-three
suits
of
powered
armor
to
check
,
service
,
and
repair
between
each
drop
,
not
to
mention
weapons
and
special
equipment
.
Sometimes
Migliaccio
would
downcheck
a
suit
,
Jelly
would
confirm
it
,
and
the
ship
's
weapons
engineer
,
Lieutenant
Farley
,
would
decide
that
he
could
n't
cure
it
short
of
base
facilities
--
whereupon
a
new
suit
would
have
to
be
broken
out
of
stores
and
brought
from
"
cold
"
to
"
hot
,
"
an
exacting
process
requiring
twenty-six
man-hours
not
counting
the
time
of
the
man
to
whom
it
was
being
fitted
.
We
kept
busy
.
But
we
had
fun
,
too
.
There
were
always
several
competitions
going
on
,
from
acey-deucy
to
Honor
Squad
,
and
we
had
the
best
jazz
band
in
several
cubic
light-years
(
well
,
the
only
one
,
maybe
)
,
with
Sergeant
Johnson
on
the
trumpet
leading
them
mellow
and
sweet
for
hymns
or
tearing
the
steel
right
off
the
bulkheads
,
as
the
occasion
required
.
After
that
masterful
(
or
should
it
be
"
mistressful
"
?
)
retrieval
rendezvous
without
a
programmed
ballistic
,
the
platoon
's
metalsmith
,
PFC
Archie
Campbell
,
made
a
model
of
the
Rodger
Young
for
the
Skipper
and
we
all
signed
and
Archie
engraved
our
signatures
on
a
base
plate
:
To
Hot
Pilot
Yvette
Deladrier
,
with
thanks
from
Rasczak
's
Roughnecks
,
and
we
invited
her
aft
to
eat
with
us
and
the
Roughneck
Downbeat
Combo
played
during
dinner
and
then
the
junior
private
presented
it
to
her
.
She
got
tears
and
kissed
him
--
and
kissed
Jelly
as
well
and
he
blushed
purple
.
After
I
got
my
chevrons
I
simply
had
to
get
things
straight
with
Ace
,
because
Jelly
kept
me
on
as
assistant
section
leader
.
This
is
not
good
.
A
man
ought
to
fill
each
spot
on
his
way
up
;
I
should
have
had
a
turn
as
squad
leader
instead
of
being
bumped
from
lance
and
assistant
squad
leader
to
corporal
and
assistant
section
leader
.
Jelly
knew
this
,
of
course
,
but
I
know
perfectly
well
that
he
was
trying
to
keep
the
outfit
as
much
as
possible
the
way
it
had
been
when
the
Lieutenant
was
alive
--
which
meant
that
he
left
his
squad
leaders
and
section
leaders
unchanged
.
