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Hearn shook his head. "Get them anyway."

Clellan remained still. "Yestiday, General said to me, 'Clellan, whose idea is those damn flowers anyway?' I told him I didn't know, but I said I 'spected it was yours."

"The General said that?" Hearn was amused and then furious. The sonofabitch! He lit a cigarette, and exhaled it slowly. "Suppose you change the flowers, Clellan. I happen to be the one who hears the complaints."

"Lieutenant, I pass the General maybe ten times a day. I reckon he'd say something to me if he figgered I wasn't doin' it right."

"You'll just have to take my word for it, Clellan."

Clellan pursed his lips, flushed a little. He was obviously angry. "Lieutenant, you just want to remember that the General's a man, he's no better than you or me, and there's no sense in being afraid of him."

That was about enough. He'd be damned if he'd stand around arguing with Clellan. Hearn started to walk out of the tent. "Just get those flowers, Clellan," he said coldly before he stepped out.

Disgusting, humiliating. Hearn stared morosely at the raw cropped earth of the bivouac as he walked over to officers' mess for breakfast. That sort of thing could go on for a year or two, a daily and nasty piece of business to be taken each morning on an empty stomach. Clellan of course would love it. Every retort Clellan could get away with would be just so much grist to his self-esteem, and any time he would be rebuked he could generate the satisfying hatred of the underdog. There were angles to being an enlisted man. Hearn kicked a pebble with his foot.

Lo, the poor officers! Hearn grinned at himself, and waved to Mantelli, who was also approaching officers' mess.

Mantelli cut over to him, and clapped him on the back. "Keep away from poppa today."

"What's the matter?"

"Last night we got a Lonely Hearts from corps. They told Cummings to get his ass in gear. Jesus! He'll be having me leading headquarters company in a charge." Mantelli took out his cigar and extended it forward like a spear.

"All you're good for is charging a chow line."

"Ain't it the truth. I got a desk job, flat feet, Hollandia, Stateside, Pentagon, I wear eyeglasses, I cough. . . listen."

Hearn shoved him playfully. "Do you want a word with the General?"

"Sure, get me in USO." They walked in together to chow.

After breakfast Hearn reported to the General's tent. Cummings was sitting at his desk studying an Air Corps engineer report. "They won't have the airfield ready for two months. They switched a priority on me."

"That's too bad, sir."

"Naturally I'm expected to win the damn campaign without it." The General griped abstractedly as if unaware of the identity of the man before him. "This is the only division in action at the moment which doesn't have any dependable air support." The General wiped his mouth carefully, looked at Hearn. "I thought the tent was pretty good this morning."

"Thank you, sir." Hearn was annoyed with the pleasure this gave him.

Cummings extracted a pair of eyeglasses from a drawer in the desk, wiped them slowly, and put them on. This was one of the few times Hearn had seen him wearing eyeglasses, and they made him look older somehow. After a moment Cummings took them off and held them in his hand.

"You junior officers getting all your liquor supplies?"

"Why, yes, I believe we are."

"Mm." Cummings clasped his hands.

Now, what was this all about? Hearn wondered. "Why do you ask?" he said at last.

But the General didn't answer. "I'm taking a trip up to Second Battalion this morning. Will you tell Richman to have the jeep ready for me in about ten minutes?"

"Am I coming along, sir?"

"Eh, no. You see Horton. I want you to go out to the beach, and pick up some extra supplies for officers' mess."

"Yes, sir." A little puzzled, Hearn went down to the motor pool, gave the order to Richman, the General's driver, and then saw Major Horton, who gave him a list of supplies to be purchased from a Liberty ship out in the harbor.

Hearn collected a detail of three men from