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"
Just
gim
me
a
piece
of
paper
,
I
'm
resigning
.
"
"
One
moment
.
Sergeant
Zim
.
"
"
Yes
,
sir
.
"
Zim
had
n't
said
a
word
for
a
long
time
.
He
just
stood
,
eyes
front
and
rigid
as
a
statue
,
nothing
moving
but
his
twitching
jaw
muscles
.
I
looked
at
him
now
and
saw
that
it
certainly
was
a
shiner
--
a
beaut
.
Hendrick
must
have
caught
him
just
right
.
But
he
had
n't
said
anything
about
it
and
Captain
Frankel
had
n't
asked
--
maybe
he
had
just
assumed
Zim
had
run
into
a
door
and
would
explain
it
if
he
felt
like
it
,
later
.
"
Have
the
pertinent
articles
been
published
to
your
company
,
as
required
?
"
"
Yes
,
sir
.
Published
and
logged
,
every
Sunday
morning
"
"
I
know
they
have
.
I
asked
simply
for
the
record
.
"
Just
before
church
call
every
Sunday
they
lined
us
up
and
read
aloud
the
disciplinary
articles
out
of
the
Laws
and
Regulations
of
the
Military
Forces
.
They
were
posted
on
the
bulletin
board
,
too
,
outside
the
orderly
tent
.
Nobody
paid
them
much
mind
--
it
was
just
another
drill
;
you
could
stand
still
and
sleep
through
it
.
About
the
only
thing
we
noticed
,
if
we
noticed
anything
,
was
what
we
called
"
the
thirty-one
ways
to
crash
land
.
"
After
all
,
the
instructors
see
to
it
that
you
soak
up
all
the
regulations
you
need
to
know
,
through
your
skin
.
The
"
crash
landings
"
were
a
worn-out
joke
,
like
"
reveille
oil
"
and
"
tent
jacks
"
...
they
were
the
thirty-one
capital
offenses
.
Now
and
then
somebody
boasted
,
or
accused
somebody
else
,
of
having
found
a
thirty-second
way
--
always
something
preposterous
and
usually
obscene
.
"
Striking
a
Superior
Officer
--
!
"
It
suddenly
was
n't
amusing
any
longer
.
Popping
Zim
?
Hang
a
man
for
that
?
Why
,
almost
everybody
in
the
company
had
taken
a
swing
at
Sergeant
Zim
and
some
of
us
had
even
landed
...
when
he
was
instructing
us
in
hand-to-hand
combat
.
