in, "he's got the makings of a good soldier—if properly handled."
The battery commander's indignation arresting, "Who's been mishandling him here? It's clear someone has, and I'll look into that later. I'm bound every man shall get a fair show. It's clear that Doc isn't getting his here. No matter whose fault now. I'm going to give him his show—send him where he'll get all that's coming to him. Put his name on the list for transfer."
One day the trickiest of trick orders came down, No more conscientious objectors would be transferred. An attempt would be met by the return of the objector and the prompt trial of the offending officer. The 305th read the thing complacently, glancing down the sturdy brown lines. It had no significance for us then. Had we ever had a conscientious objector? No one seemed able to recall. At any rate there was none then. There was none when we sailed for France.
Now and then the trick orders contained troublesome particulars. Perhaps an organization would be called on to furnish a man equipped to become a battery or com- pany clerk. Then the committee on transfers would really get down to work, for good battery clerks were as rare as good first sergcants. You can scc the members anxiously scanning again and again the well-worn qualification cards. You can picture the shaking of breads, the helpless frowns. Then, perhaps, you can remember one speaking up victoriously.
"Here's the very bird."
"Read the chief particulars of his qualification card," the chairman demands.
The other holds the card to the light, declaiming in a sing-song voice:
"Ivan Stroffowski. Born in Russia. Occupation:
