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Show ANNOUNCER: Crandall's takes pleasure in presenting, for the reader's en- joyment, the remarkable and very amusing story of Army life, from the soldier's point of view, entitled: Save The Pages Containing This Story Crandall's, sponsor of the publication of "See Here, Pri vate Hargrove," in The Her aid, suggests that readers SAVE THESE PAGES . . They will want to read them again, and let friends read them . . They will want to keep the story so the man of the family who is away at war can enjoy it when he comes back home. VfM " See Here," WM wg&j Private Hargrove! hlC cFS fcy Marion Hargrove k i u can use your natural talents." There was a distinctly sadistic tone in his voice. I waited. "You're going to be a first cook, Hargrove," he said fondly. "Not just a plain cook. A head cook! A king in your iktchen, a man of responsibility. Ain't that love- v?" "You can't do this to me!" 1 roared, when my breath returned. "It's against every decent human law! I don't know anything about cooking! I want to be a cannoneer!" cannon-eer!" Sergeant Goldsmith's eyes wandered wan-dered guiltlessly to the ceiling. "You don't know anytHing about cookin, huh? That's bad, boy, that's bad! Why, you're supposed to be on shift right now." "Sergeant," I said, "I couldn't fry an egg right now if it had directions di-rections on the package." "You're in the cook's battery, ain't you ? You've been going to cooking school and you've been sent to a kitchen for all these weeks. You're supposed to be graduated any day now. What have you been doing in the kitchen kitch-en I put you in?" "Making jerk-ade," I explained, "chopping celery, peeling onions, They say I get in their way. They says I keep spirits too high and production too low." "I feel for you," the sergeant said. "I deeply sympathize. You are going to be a mighty unpopular unpopu-lar little boy in your new home. If that supper tonight don't melt in them boys' mouths and send them clamoring for more, they'll either massacre you or run you over the hill. That's one thing the boys won't allow bum cooking!" "Sergeant Goldsmith, sir," I implored im-plored him. "Can't somebody else go in my stead? Somebody who can cook? Look at me a digger of ditches, a mopper of floors, a scrubber of kitchens, a ministering minister-ing angel to undernourished grass plots, but a cook never! You don't know what you're doing to me!" "Son," he said, "you're going to Theword my- 1 oppose k C such thingV Ma hattt tkN mine. Sher' ,UrysC ? iSiSi A- 1 framed" 8 rettes from fcf f& Private Sher i V likable Jewish boy raH-Ohio. raH-Ohio. He went ?n acW doesn't come C ,S V 8:30 class. Then i, teJcl is Columbus, had af,?8" and built htaJW shaped like a champLV: the fateful . October and Sw Slxtteft -Selective Zgffil Plication wasec Jk;: and, since he had cuessful proprietor of rant, he was claS3ifiJ a ismg student for the 4I p":' ing course. 4 The two of us got totk he was sent to the 1 M,ht Center here. We afi quaintance whenltop' Jewish jokes and begTl b him how to speak Yiddish iN attracted by his natW ence, hls , pleasant p sense of humor, the slmiJ,1 his ; likes and dislikes to subscription to PM hi, stocked supply 0f curette,!." brand), and the cookies h stantly received from home So we became more or less a-stant a-stant companions. We ituj,t rounds here together, mad, goo eyes at the same waitress -Fayetteville, and swapped vilmi' trade secrets in goldbricking " (To Be Continued Next Wt We second the motion of the ti pert who asserts that a cooked meal relieves fatigue. The is none like that which comes fit looking poor cooking in the fa tripped over him yesterday evening eve-ning on my way back from a hard day's work and stopped to chew the conversational fat. "Junior," I asked him, "how does your conscience feel about this six-day goldbricking schedule every week? Don't you feel a twinge on payday?" Corporal Miller made a move to draw himself up indignantly, but decided it wasn't worth the effort. "If you're insinuating that I don't have to work you're off your bean, sonny. I do two or three times as much work as you happiness boys." I yawned and sat down. "After listening to Ussery shooting off his mouth fifteen hours a day, I can take yours. Go on with your fantastic story." "Boy," said Miller, "the responsibility respon-sibility is enough to kill an ordinary ordi-nary man. I'm a one-man information infor-mation bureau for the whole battery. bat-tery. I have to know who everybody every-body is, where everybody is, where everybody's going and how long he's going to be there. "I have to know the answer to every dumb question you guys come popping with. Where's my mail? When do I get my furlough? fur-lough? Where are we going to be sent when" we get shipped out of here? Why didn't I get a weekend week-end pass ? Why was I on KP again today ? Every sort of question you could imagine!" "Quit popping your guns, laddie," lad-die," I told him. "That's no grind for you. You use the same answer on all the question: 'How the hell would I know?' " He was quiet for a while and I thought he had gone to sleep again. I was all primed to hum "Chow Call" to wake him up, then he stirred and sighed heavily. heav-ily. "All right," I prompted him, "so you're the one-man information bureau. So what do you do in the line of actual work?" "Work!" he shouted. "That's what I do work! Why, I have to write all the letters and keep all the files and keep duty rosters up to date! I have to make thousands of rosters of the battery every months ago as a captain. Being a Smith, he's back. With him in the armed forces today are two of his sons and two of his grandsons. Merton had two uncles in the last war, both of whom fared exceeding ex-ceeding well when you take a practical view of it. Neither tired himself out. The first crossed the ocean nine times playing the clarinet clari-net in a troop ship's band. The Germans torpedoed the boat once and the holes in the side were stuffed with mattresses. Hulce's uncle rode back into port, still playing his clarinet. That was the goldbricking uncle. The other uncle served as a kay-pee kay-pee on the trip across. Carrying a tray around the deck, he was heckled several times by a person ties and parading before each other. oth-er. The clothes were all-wool and the temperature was all-heat, but all was vanity. We knew what the trousers, shirts, ties, blouses, and overcoats would look like, but the remainder remain-der of the wardrobe came as a complete surprise to us. We were especially intrigued by the woolen gloves and the pretty gray-blue socks. But the piece de resistance was the underwear, if I may be indelicate. indeli-cate. Private Huber and some of the other less fortunate citizen-soldiers citizen-soldiers were issued simple, ungla-morous ungla-morous longies in a color that could best be described as lemon custard. The cut of these pale beauties was the orthodox, one-piece one-piece design such as one sees hung on the washlines of all comic strips. From wrist to ankle, we will be clothed this winter in two-piece ensembles of a color halfway between be-tween baby blue and rabbit gray. The undershirts are cut on a sweat-shirt pattern and are form fitting enough to send any Hollywood Holly-wood designer into frenzies of envy. en-vy. The nether garments, which are called "shorts" for some unfathomable un-fathomable reason,1 look like the tights worn in midieval days and show off the shapeliness of a masculine mas-culine leg to best advantage or otherwise. Next to the Bugler, I suppose the battery clerk has the gold-brickin'est gold-brickin'est job in the battery. You could cut his pay to ten dollars a month and he'd still be defrauding "Son," he said, "you're going to make a perfectly breathtaking Horrible Example." I had nothing more to say. j you!" I dropped my stable broom in the battery street and hastened toward him, as one always does when summoned by the top kick. "Well, Private Harrove," he said, "this is a red-letter day for you." "You mean you're going to let me go out and drill like the other fellows?" "Noooo, Private Hargrove," he said. "I mean I'm going to let you turn in all your equipment. You are no longer to be a rookie, Private Pri-vate Hargrove. You are goin to be an important working cog in the great wheel of national defense. de-fense. You are leaving us, Private Hargrove." "What's the deal?" I asked. "Where do I go and what do I SYNOPSIS CHAPTER VIII Hargrove gets his first taste of army cooking school reports on his daily activities activi-ties there. He tells also about, the real meaning of army morale and how it affects new inductees. o . CHAPTER IX By this time, the evening bull sessions have worn themselves into in-to a very definite routine. If Corporal Cor-poral Ussery is there, he lectures on how he'd run the Army; if it's Private Tcrrence Clarkin, he tells how he used to direct the intricate traffic affairs of Radio City Music Mus-ic Hall when he was assistant chief doorman there. Unless Private Pri-vate Henri Gelders is stopped, he'll start a violent argument among the butchers over how to cut a steak. McGlauflin will talk for hours about the beauties of the lakes in Minnesota. Graftenstein will deliver de-liver discourses on how he would run the Wisconsin football team; Pappas, about Alabama's Crimson Tide. Maciejewski will sermonize on the utter baseness and treachery treach-ery of womanhood. Lately, however, the sessions have become more and more under un-der the sway of Private Merton Hulce, a mad Irish lad from Muskegon, Mus-kegon, Michigan. Private Hulce apparently didn't stop at kissing the Blarney Stone. He must have stolen half of it to carry with him. Hulce's chief topic of conversation conversa-tion is his mother's fabulous family, fam-ily, the Smiths, all of whom seem to get enmeshed in every war that comes along. His grandfather, who was a captain in the Coast Guard at the outbreak of the last war, was transferred to duty at guarding guard-ing munitions dumps and such for the duration of the war. According to Hulce, one of the munitions guards with his grandfather's grand-father's detail was approached late one night by an officer of the guard. "Halt!" shouted the sentry, and the officer halted. "Advance to be recognized!" said the sentry, and the officer came within a foot of him. Suddenly the officer reached out and snatched the rifle from the guard's hand. This was an exceedingly uncomfortable un-comfortable position for the guard, especially in that time of war. He might even have been sentenced to death. The officer stood there just looking at the guard for fully a minute. "What would you have done," he asked in a terrible voice, "if an enemy had got your gun like that?" The guard trembled for a moment mo-ment and recovered. "I would have snatched it back sir," he said, "like THAT!" And the officer stood there, empty-handed. Hulce's grandfather, who told that story, is now about sixty-five, his grandson says. He was asked to come back into the Navy three make a perfectly breath-taking Horrible Example!" Then he rose and walked back into the supply room. "Thomas," he said, "check in this yardbird's equipment." Sergeant Israel looked up from his Form Thirty-two records. "Don't he like his equipment?" "Check in everything but his clothing," the top kick said. "Get a truck to take him to Headquarters Headquar-ters Battery, FARC." Sergeant Thomas W. Israel looked up in faint amazement. I looked in sheer bewilderment. "They had to figure some way to stop his cooking career and save the morale of some battery as would get him as a cook," said Sergeant Goldsmith. "So he's being be-ing palmed off to Center Headquarters Head-quarters as a, public relations man." do?" The sergeant chuckled and leaned back in his chair. He sighed ecstatically twice. "Would you really like to know, son, or would you rather put it off as long as you can?" "Well," I said thankfully, "you can't be sending me out as a cook, because I don't know anything about cooking." The sergeant sat back and drummed happily on the table. "Great Gods!" I shouted. "I'm not going to be a cannoneer, am I ?" "No, Private Hargrove," he said after another long paused "you're not going to be a cannoneer. We're going to give you a job where you month " "That," I suggested, "should take at least two or three hours every day. What do you do to while away the other tedious hours of the day?" He was quiet again for about a minute. Then he arose. "I've got a pretty hard day ahead of me tomorrow, to-morrow, Hargrove," he said. "I hope you won't mind if you excuse ex-cuse myself. You have to get plenty plen-ty of sleep when you have a job like mine." "When you have a job like yours," I growled, "you can sleep night and day." hTe top sergeant stuck his head out of the supply room and beckoned beck-oned with his arm. "Come 'ere, the government. Just watch the battery clerk for a while and you start wondering why he's in the Army, when he's so evidently cut out to fit the leaning end - of a WPA shovel. While the rest of the battery is earning its daily bread with sweat, the battery clerk sits in the orderly order-ly room hob-nobbing with the powers pow-ers that be, typing the daily work-list work-list with original spelling for all the names and wondering how long it is until lunchtime. Our battery clerk is a beardless youth named Howard Miller. I In the mirst of this fiery hell he saw a peach tree with peaches growing on it. he soon grew to loathe. Eventually the Irish wrath of the Smiths rose to boiling point. Uncle Smith lifted the tray high overhead and wrapped it around the heckler's neck. He spent the rest of the war in confinement. Then there was the cousin, Grandma's sister's boy. Serving in the front-line trenches, he grew suddenly hungry one morning. Lookin out of the trench, he saw a peach tree growing there in the midst of the fiery hell, and there were still peaches on it. He tried to sneak into the tree, but the enemy's bullets found him. He was carried behind the lines. Just as the streacher bearers laid him down, an enemy shell exploded in the center of their little group and none of them were ever seen again. This happened at exactly ten o'clock on the morning of November Novem-ber 11, 1918 one hour before the Armistice was signed. LINGERIE NOTE: Our winter uniforms were issued to us today, to-day, and, since we had the afternoon after-noon off, we spent all our time until retreat trying on the pret- |