“Fill this out,” says the desk sergeant.
“Guess I’m going to Cleveland!” says the corporal, picking up a pencil.
“That’s a nice town,” says Fred.
“Yeah,” says the corporal, “but Detroit’s where I live.”
Fred turns to the sergeant. “Sarge, what’s the chances of a ride to Boone City?”
“Ya got orders?” asks the sergeant.
Derry taps his shirt pocket. “Sure…” says Fred, hesitantly.
“Okay,” says the sergeant, understanding that Fred doesn’t really have orders. “I haven’t got anything right now, but if you wanna this out, I’ll call ya if anything comes up.”
“Okay, I guess I’ll wait,” says Fred, taking the travel form.
Time passes. Fred is about to sit down next to a sleeping sailor in the waiting room. There’s a crated landing gear assembly in front of them. Several soldiers are sleeping against it on the floor.
“Hey, you guys,” says a sergeant, “I need a couple of men to give me a hand with this out to a plane.”
“Okay,” says a solider.
The sergeant nods, and taps a couple of sleeping servicemen with his foot to wake them. Several soldiers get up to help. “I’ll bet this thing ways a ton!” says a soldier.
One of the army men turns to look at the sailor, who hasn’t moved but merely watches the activity.
“What’s the matter, sailor, tired or something?” says a soldier, sarcastically. The sailor doesn’t say anything. Derry sits down in a chair, leans back as he puts his cap over his eyes, and sleeps.
More time passes.
“Derry!” shouts the desk sergeant. “Derry! Captain Fred Derry!”
“Yo! Coming!” yells Fred, waking up with a lurch.