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By Root 9208 0

fish smell of the water. He always did his best, no one could deny that. A rosy satisfaction eddied through him.

At this moment he got his idea. He could jazz up the map-reading class by having a full-size color photograph of Betty Grable in a bathing suit, with a co-ordinate grid system laid over it. The instructor could point to different parts of her and say, "Give me the coordinates."

Goddam, what an idea! The Major chuckled out of sheer pleasure. It would make those troopers wake up and pay some attention in map class.

But where was he going to get a life-size photograph? The Major chased a coil of ash with the tip of his cigar. He could ask quartermaster but he was goddamned if he'd make a fool of himself filling out a requisition for that. Maybe Chaplain Davis, who was a good egg -- but, no, he'd better not ask him.

Dalleson scratched his head. He could write a letter to Army Headquarters, Special Services. They probably wouldn't have Grable, but any pin-up girl would do.

That was it. He'd write Army. And in the meantime he might send a letter to the War Department Training Aids Section. They were out for improvements like that. The Major could see every unit in the Army using his idea at last. He clenched his fists with excitement.

Hot dog!

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