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But
that
was
after
we
had
left
Camp
Currie
and
a
lot
had
happened
in
between
.
Combat
training
,
mostly
--
combat
drill
and
combat
exercises
and
combat
maneuvers
,
using
everything
from
bare
hands
to
simulated
nuclear
weapons
.
I
had
n't
known
there
were
so
many
different
ways
to
fight
.
Hands
and
feet
to
start
with
--
and
if
you
think
those
are
n't
weapons
you
have
n't
seen
Sergeant
Zim
and
Captain
Frankel
,
our
battalion
commander
,
demonstrate
la
savate
,
or
had
little
Shujumi
work
you
over
with
just
his
hands
and
a
toothy
grin
--
Zim
made
Shujumi
an
instructor
for
that
purpose
at
once
and
required
us
to
take
his
orders
,
although
we
did
n't
have
to
salute
him
and
say
"
sir
.
"
As
our
ranks
thinned
down
Zim
quit
bothering
with
formations
himself
,
except
parade
,
and
spent
more
and
more
time
in
personal
instruction
,
supplementing
the
corporal-instructors
.
He
was
sudden
death
with
anything
but
he
loved
knives
,
and
made
and
balanced
his
own
,
instead
of
using
the
perfectly
good
general-issue
ones
.
He
mellowed
quite
a
bit
as
a
personal
teacher
,
too
,
becoming
merely
unbearable
instead
of
downright
disgusting
--
he
could
be
quite
patient
with
silly
questions
.
Once
,
during
one
of
the
two-minute
rest
periods
that
were
scattered
sparsely
through
each
day
's
work
,
one
of
the
boys
--
a
kid
named
Ted
Hendrick
--
asked
,
"
Sergeant
?
I
guess
this
knife
throwing
is
fun
...
but
why
do
we
have
to
learn
it
?
What
possible
use
is
it
?
"
"
Well
,
"
answered
Zim
,
"
suppose
all
you
have
is
a
knife
?
Or
maybe
not
even
a
knife
?
What
do
you
do
?
Just
say
your
prayers
and
die
?
Or
wade
in
and
make
him
buy
it
anyhow
?
Son
,
this
is
real
--
it
's
not
a
checker
game
you
can
concede
if
you
find
yourself
too
far
behind
.
"
"
But
that
's
just
what
I
mean
,
sir
.
Suppose
you
are
n't
armed
at
all
?
Or
just
one
of
these
toadstickers
,
say
?
And
the
man
you
're
up
against
has
all
sorts
of
dangerous
weapons
?
There
's
nothing
you
can
do
about
it
;
he
's
got
you
licked
on
showdown
.
"
Zim
said
almost
gently
,
"
You
've
got
it
all
wrong
,
son
.
There
's
no
such
thing
as
a
'
dangerous
weapon
.
'
"
"
Huh
?
Sir
?
"
"
There
are
no
dangerous
weapons
;
there
are
only
dangerous
men
.
We
're
trying
to
teach
you
to
be
dangerous
--
to
the
enemy
.
Dangerous
even
without
a
knife
.
Deadly
as
long
as
you
still
have
one
hand
or
one
foot
and
are
still
alive
.
If
you
do
n't
know
what
I
mean
,
go
read
'
Horatius
at
the
Bridge
'
or
'
The
Death
of
the
Bon
Homme
Richard
'
;
they
're
both
in
the
Camp
library
.
But
take
the
case
you
first
mentioned
;
I
'm
you
and
all
you
have
is
a
knife
.
That
target
behind
me
--
the
one
you
've
been
missing
,
number
three
--
is
a
sentry
,
armed
with
everything
but
an
H-bomb
.
You
've
got
to
get
him
...
quietly
,
at
once
,
and
without
letting
him
call
for
help
.
"
Zim
turned
slightly
--
thunk
!
--
a
knife
he
had
n't
even
had
in
his
hand
was
quivering
in
the
center
of
target
number
three
.
"
You
see
?
Best
to
carry
two
knives
--
but
get
him
you
must
,
even
barehanded
.
"
"
Uh
--
"
"
Something
still
troubling
you
?
Speak
up
.
That
's
what
I
'm
here
for
,
to
answer
your
questions
.
"
