Keep Your Powder Dry Page #3

---

wait for orders.

Well, this'll be the first

concrete mixer I've ever slept in.

My mattress feels like a

section of the Lincoln highway

around Altoona, PA.

I think I'll try this one.

You know, they promised

us room and board.

Well, that's the board.

In the army, they

don't call it board.

They call it "mess."

And speaking of a mess,

look at my hair.

Say, has anybody got a comb?

I went and lost

mine on the train.

I think the PX is still open.

You can get one there.

Oh, here. Take mine.

Look, if we once start

borrowing from each other,

we're all sunk.

Keep it.

Thanks.

Say, you know, when I saw them

taking those pictures

of you at the train,

I knew I'd seen you somewhere.

Small world, isn't it?

And now I know where it was.

It was in a magazine,

in that cold cream

advertisement.

Confidentially, don't

use the cold cream.

Eats your face off.

I think it's wonderful,

somebody like you giving up

everything to join the army.

Don't you?

We all gave up something.

Well, I guess

I'd better unpack.

Personal belongings will

go in the footlocker,

with the exception

of photographs,

typewriters, and books,

which will go in

the wall locker.

When we get our gi clothing,

stockings, towels and pajamas

will go in the footlockers,

while the wall lockers will be

sufficient for uniforms and so on.

Say...

What are you, an old

cavalry officer?

I'm from an army family.

I happen to know a little

bit more about this life

than the others,

and I don't mind being helpful.

No, I'm sure you don't.

But if I need any help,

I'll send up a flare.

You'll need help...

lots of it.

Look, Napoleon,

I don't care if you

were born in a tank

and weaned on a hand grenade.

I'll take my orders

from the people

entitled to give them.

That attitude won't get you

very far in the service, Parks.

Oh, don't make any rash

predictions, Napoleon.

The name is Rand.

It's going to be mud if you

keep trying to ride over me

on that high horse of yours!

Ten-shun!

Sorry, girls. I was just

practicing to be a sergeant.

But I feel funny sleeping in

a room with so many people.

At home I had a

room all to myself,

with only my sister

and Aunt Sophie

and her little girl.

Oh, you'll get used to it.

This your husband?

No, we were just friends.

But now he's helping an old

gal spend her annuity.

What's the idea

of the picture?

I just like to see him hang.

Ha ha ha!

Well, listen to this...

the training schedule.

6:
00, lights on.

6:
30, reveille.

Classes from 8:
05 to 11:30.

Mail call, 11:
35.

Is there just one mail a day?

No, there's another

at, uh...1630.

If you'll pardon a

question from a PFC...

what?

"Poor, foolish civilian."

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes