standing in line, facing forward even! Every sentence from his mouth started to blend together. Em saw several of the others’ heads droop occasionally. He reminded himself to stay awake and pay attention. Sitting on the cold floor, in their underwear, did not seem to be keeping anyone awake. It was close to eleven o’clock in the evening, and Em knew that reveille would be before four thirty in the morning. The next thing Cannon did was to assign special duties. He asked for volunteers for chow runners. He looked at each one of them, staring straight into each set of eyes. “I understand if no one wants to volunteer, but I’m telling you, if I have to assign these positions, it will not be as pleasant!”
Em knew that this was some kind of trick. His uncle had told him, “No matter what, don’t volunteer for anything.” He remembered every word. He also remembered telling Corby the same thing. When Corby spoke, as if on cue, it did not surprise Em at all.
“I volunteer, Sergeant Cannon.” Em only moved his eyes to look at Corby. He saw that Corby was starting to rise.
“What are you doing, Cookie? Nobody told you to get up!” Corby dropped back onto the floor. Sergeant Cannon did not miss a beat. “Get back up now! You want to be a chow runner? You better get started on your training!”
The only thought that kept repeating itself inside Em’s head was “Don’t he ever get tired?” He had been with them since before the sun came up. He had screamed all day. He simply had to be as tired as the rest of them. The funny thing was, he did not look at all tired. Even though he still had on the same uniform as he had been wearing at four thirty in the morning, it was as crisp and clean now as it was then.
Corby stood at attention, in his underwear, while Cannon rattled off his new list of duties. Em thought that chow runner sounded rather simple. All Corby had to do was stand in line for the chow hall. He would stand in line in place of the whole flight. (“Flight” was the new designation for a formation of fifty airmen.) When their flight was ready for meals, Corby was to leave the flight and make his was to the chow hall and reserve their flight’s spot. Em noticed that Corby looked like he was starting to relax. After all, it sounded like a rather simple duty. Em did not understand that new recruits trying to cross an air base unsupervised drew attention. Daily confrontations would confront Corby as long as he held this prestigious position.
Em thought that Sergeant Cannon had really lost his mind when he yelled one more time. “I think we better get started on that training! Never know when I’ll get hungry!” Sergeant Cannon sent Corby, in his underwear, to the chow hall to see if it was open. Corby sprinted out the door like a rabbit. Em remembered how cold it was. Springtime in Texas produced some cold nights. Before Cannon had a chance to finish his next rant, Corby burst back into the room. He slid to a halt and started to open his mouth. Cannon stopped him and screamed, “Cookie! I don’t think that was fast enough! See if you can make it a little quicker this time. Go!”
Corby jumped backward and was out the door in a wink. Cannon turned and faced the rest of them. “Who wants to be his assistant?” Needless to say, all eyes went straight to the floor. There would be no volunteers to be Corby’s friend. Before Cannon could say another word, Corby was back and covered with sweat. Sergeant Cannon just told him to remain at attention at the door. He forced a laugh when he said, “I might get hungry, Cookie. You just be ready to go.”
Cannon assigned several other duties. It seemed that Cannon thought that squad leaders were the most important even though they had the fewest duties. He picked the biggest and strongest-looking guys for the four squad leaders. Six “lucky” guys received latrine duty. Several moans were heard in the room, and Sergeant Cannon just smiled. These guys thought they had just gotten the worst job possible. The latrine was expected to be in “inspection order,” twenty-four hours a day. No one volunteered for anything. Em found himself on the laundry crew. He had even secured the coveted “leader” position. He was ultimately responsible for the laundry. The other three on his crew were to be his responsibility. The four of them as a group were responsible for cleaning fifty sets of fatigues and all towels, socks, underwear, and anything else washable. Each day, they would be dismissed from the rest of their flight. For two hours, they would have the laundry room to themselves. They had to wash, dry, and deliver all the laundry. Once in the barracks, they were only expected to deposit the laundry in the room next to Cannon’s office, which they now referred to as the dayroom. Each personal item was stenciled with an initial and four numbers. Each airman was assigned their own identification numbers.
Laundry chief turned out to be the best job to have. Every day at exactly three o’clock in the afternoon, no matter what they were doing or where they were, Em and his crew were dismissed as a foursome to return to their barracks and get this job done. Two hours and twenty minutes of every day was devoted to this task. Em was happy when Jackson Turner was assigned one of the positions on his crew.
After the fifth day of laundry duty, Em and his crew were the envy of the rest of the flight. Everyone soon found that two hours’ break from Sergeant Cannon every day was like summer break from school, but on a daily basis. Em found the two hours in the laundry room was like a reprieve from being in the military. He and Jackson were becoming friends. They had a lot of time to talk while waiting on the laundry. He found out that Jack had lived in Florida his entire life. He also had left a girl back home. Her name was Carolyn Kammerer. Her hair was pitch-black, and her eyes were as green as ivy.
They talked about their girls every day. Jack said that Em seemed a little more serious about the long-distance relationship than he was. They talked about all the other guys in their flight. They talked about the war, but mostly, they talked about what was going on around them. Both of them felt that Cannon was being unfair to Corby. He was relentless in his pursuit of him. Cannon searched him out every time he approached their flight. Em was repeatedly astonished at the way Corby handled these situations. Five days ago, in the dayroom, Cannon had kept him running back and forth to the chow hall for over an hour. Corby’s underwear was drenched in sweat by the time he was permitted to go to bed. Even after lights out that night, Corby did not complain.
In one week, Corby had been rung through the wringer, not only by Cannon but by every other sergeant in the squadron. Daily in the chow hall line, he was screamed at by at least three of the instructors. It was as if Cannon had requested special attention just for Corby. Em told Jack about his and Corby’s friendship. Jack thought it was peculiar that the two of them were friends. He said that the two of them seemed so different; it was difficult to see how they could be so close. He also observed that since they had been here, he had scarcely seen the two of them speak to each other. Em found this incredulous at first, until he realized it was true. He and Corby had spoken, just not longer than a minute or two at a time. Corby spent every one of his free moments with his new friend Larry. Em assumed that was because Larry had inadvertently become Corby’s apprentice chow runner. Somehow, Corby had taken on a new role of looking out for the underdog but, in doing so, had drawn more unwanted attention to Larry; hence, Larry becoming apprentice chow runner number 1.
Jack and Em were both very good with numbers. They found this out about each other while doing the laundry every day. By the end of the first week, they had both learned the ID numbers of over half of the flight. They had even started placing items on the bunks with the corresponding numbers. Every single piece of clothing, including the washcloth, had an ID stenciled on it. He and Jack had made a competition of it, seeing who could take the smallest amount to be dumped in the dayroom to be sorted. The other guys started to thank them for this. The ones with items on their bunks were naturally pleased. The ones whose clothes were in the dayroom appreciated that the pile was much smaller.
By the end of the tenth day, they had memorized everyone’s ID, or at least the last four digits of the number. They played games in the laundry room, seeing who could name as many of the fifty as they could in the smallest amount of time. Next, they would try to put them in numerical order. Soon, everyone’s laundry was placed on his own bunk, every day. Jack and Em figured out that if you took what
