Read Online Kid Comes Back by John R. Tunis - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: John R. Tunis
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homing pigeon” in Army parlance. Then to the medics.
This was what Roy had been dreading. It began in that usual atmosphere of sweating, naked bodies, with everyone stripping to shorts, socks, and shoes. A technician in a white apron measured his chest. Then an X-ray plate in a dark room was flattened against him. “Say 99. 99. 99.” Boy, I’d sure like a nickel for every time I’ve said 99 in this man’s army.
In the next room, Group eighteen dash thirty went in turn to three medical officers, each at a desk. More questions, a dental examination, and a squint by a captain down throat, ears, nose. After that an eye-testing chamber. His vision was perfect. Next his blood pressure was taken, then his pulse, and he was weighed.
A doctor took him into a cubbyhole and tested him for rupture. Another medic at a table glanced over his service record and began to ask questions.
“Any wounds, injuries or diseases contracted in the service?”
“H’m. I see you were brought down in France and sustained a back injury. That right?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Bang you up some, did it?”
“Yessir, just a bit.”
“How you feel at present?”
“Oh, I’m O.K. Never felt better in my life.” It was the truth, too.
The doctor wasn’t satisfied. He had Roy bend over and touch the floor. “Left you with considerable stiffness in that lumbar region, didn’t it? Here... let me feel that back of yours.”
Reluctantly Roy submitted to the doctor’s fingers. Would he be sent back to a hospital? Would the doctor find an injury sufficient to keep him from obtaining his discharge?
“You been on active duty in Greenville all winter, sergeant?”
“Yes, sir.”
“What sort of work were you doing?”
“Well, major, I was in the control tower at Greenville for a few months; then they had me working in the Base office.”
“I see. You had no ill effects, no trouble at all with that back of yours? No pains, no record of hospitalization since you’ve been back in this country?”
“No, sir,” replied Roy truthfully. What he didn’t talk about was that constant ache in his leg.
The doctor stood looking. “H’m...” He ran his fingers up and down Roy’s back, pressed him over toward the floor. Then he went round to the desk and wrote something upon Roy’s service record. It was evident that he was making a notation of the stiffness for future reference. Then he nodded, and Roy hastily escaped. That finished the day, and as far as he was concerned it was enough.
When the bugle sounded the next morning, he woke with a start. This is the day! At eight came the call for Group eighteen dash thirty. Again they formed in a column of twos and were marked off to be paid. But things had been going too well. The rain had been pouring down all night, and now they discovered what was meant by the famous Fort Dix mud. It leaked into their shoes; the rain seeped through their raincoats. They stood outside the building, wet, angry, impatient. But there was nothing to do.
They stood there until lunch, when they slogged to the mess hall through the oozy mud, and then back again. The place was locked and the personnel gone to eat, so again there was nothing to do but wait grimly in the downpour. Shortly after one, a private first class entered with an armful of service records. One hour later they were called inside and told to form in line. At last the call had come for Group eighteen dash thirty.
Everyone was lined up at a desk and told to sign three copies of their discharge, two in ink and one in indelible pencil. The records were then taken to the other end of the room, where a chap impressed their thumbs on an inked glass plate and transferred the impression to their discharges.
So to the Finance Building to be paid. Fortunately they could wait inside, for there was another delay of forty minutes here. Then their group was called to go through a small, numbered gate, where Roy signed his name on a pay roster and walked to a
This was what Roy had been dreading. It began in that usual atmosphere of sweating, naked bodies, with everyone stripping to shorts, socks, and shoes. A technician in a white apron measured his chest. Then an X-ray plate in a dark room was flattened against him. “Say 99. 99. 99.” Boy, I’d sure like a nickel for every time I’ve said 99 in this man’s army.
In the next room, Group eighteen dash thirty went in turn to three medical officers, each at a desk. More questions, a dental examination, and a squint by a captain down throat, ears, nose. After that an eye-testing chamber. His vision was perfect. Next his blood pressure was taken, then his pulse, and he was weighed.
A doctor took him into a cubbyhole and tested him for rupture. Another medic at a table glanced over his service record and began to ask questions.
“Any wounds, injuries or diseases contracted in the service?”
“H’m. I see you were brought down in France and sustained a back injury. That right?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Bang you up some, did it?”
“Yessir, just a bit.”
“How you feel at present?”
“Oh, I’m O.K. Never felt better in my life.” It was the truth, too.
The doctor wasn’t satisfied. He had Roy bend over and touch the floor. “Left you with considerable stiffness in that lumbar region, didn’t it? Here... let me feel that back of yours.”
Reluctantly Roy submitted to the doctor’s fingers. Would he be sent back to a hospital? Would the doctor find an injury sufficient to keep him from obtaining his discharge?
“You been on active duty in Greenville all winter, sergeant?”
“Yes, sir.”
“What sort of work were you doing?”
“Well, major, I was in the control tower at Greenville for a few months; then they had me working in the Base office.”
“I see. You had no ill effects, no trouble at all with that back of yours? No pains, no record of hospitalization since you’ve been back in this country?”
“No, sir,” replied Roy truthfully. What he didn’t talk about was that constant ache in his leg.
The doctor stood looking. “H’m...” He ran his fingers up and down Roy’s back, pressed him over toward the floor. Then he went round to the desk and wrote something upon Roy’s service record. It was evident that he was making a notation of the stiffness for future reference. Then he nodded, and Roy hastily escaped. That finished the day, and as far as he was concerned it was enough.
When the bugle sounded the next morning, he woke with a start. This is the day! At eight came the call for Group eighteen dash thirty. Again they formed in a column of twos and were marked off to be paid. But things had been going too well. The rain had been pouring down all night, and now they discovered what was meant by the famous Fort Dix mud. It leaked into their shoes; the rain seeped through their raincoats. They stood outside the building, wet, angry, impatient. But there was nothing to do.
They stood there until lunch, when they slogged to the mess hall through the oozy mud, and then back again. The place was locked and the personnel gone to eat, so again there was nothing to do but wait grimly in the downpour. Shortly after one, a private first class entered with an armful of service records. One hour later they were called inside and told to form in line. At last the call had come for Group eighteen dash thirty.
Everyone was lined up at a desk and told to sign three copies of their discharge, two in ink and one in indelible pencil. The records were then taken to the other end of the room, where a chap impressed their thumbs on an inked glass plate and transferred the impression to their discharges.
So to the Finance Building to be paid. Fortunately they could wait inside, for there was another delay of forty minutes here. Then their group was called to go through a small, numbered gate, where Roy signed his name on a pay roster and walked to a
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