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YOU will remember that in 1938 it looked more than likely that a guy known as Corporal Schickelgruber was thinking of starting something in a big way. So the Brass Hats at the War House got together and decided to have the Army Officers' Emergency Reserve, in case it became necessary to give said Corporal the heat.

Naturally, I was very anxious to join in the fun, and got busy de-mothing what was left of my old uniform and what not.

But I rather gathered the impression that the War House mistook me for a character known as Rip Van Winkle who, if you remember, got himself lost in the mountains and nobody heard of him for over forty years. All that time he was so busy playing some dwarfs at ninepins and pontoon that he never had a chance to meet the local barber except, maybe, to  twist him a queen to his ten-spot and deuce. So that, by the time he returned to his sorrowing friends, he had taken on a very ancient appearance and nobody seemed to know him. Even his ever-loving wife didn't appear overjoyed at  

the reunion and took what is known as a run-out powder on him.

That was a very sad situation and is exactly what happened to me, if you see what I mean, only that I never had an ever-loving wife because I have always been of the opinion that anything that eats is a very expensive pet to keep.

So, when a Brass Hat at the War House informed me that they were not at all interested in my application and would prefer to run the show themselves, I was very disappointed indeed. In fact, it was a great blow to my amour propre