the forty-odd recruitsin the barracks. "I warned you mush heads what would happen the nexttime one of you fiddled with them lights. Now I'm gonna give you justfive minutes to fall out in front in fatigues and combat boots. MOVE!"
"Lay off," one of the recruits muttered, "nobody touched the lights.They just went off."
Weisbaum turned a cold stare on the youngster. "Just went out, eh?O.K. Let's see. Sergeant Mitchell, did the lights go out in yourbuilding?"
The sergeant shook his head.
"Did you notice if the lights were out in any other buildings when youcame up?" Again Mitchell shook his head.
"Just this barracks, huh?"
Mitchell nodded.
There was a moment of silence. "Five minutes, you jugheads," Weisbaumroared. "Five minutes or I'll have your flabby hides hung likewallpaper in my room."
By the time the platoon got back in the barracks after a five-milewalk around the perimeter of the post, Taps were sounding and thelights went out as soon as the men hit their bunks. The talking wasover. Jed felt better after the pleasant walk in the night air. Hedecided Ma would be asleep anyway by this time. He turned his headinto his pillow and was snoring in ten seconds.
* * * * *
Once Jed began getting the feel of what was wanted of him, histraining improved and the wrath of the platoon sergeants and corporalswas directed elsewhere. The recruits moved rapidly through thehardening period and with each day, Jed found the going easier. By thetime the platoon was ready for the rifle range, Jed hadn't had time togive more than a brief occasional thought about home.
When the supply sergeant issued him his M-14 rifle, Jed carried itback to the barracks like a young bridegroom carrying his belovedacross their first threshold.
"Harry," he said in an awed voice to his bunkmate, "ain't that jestabout the most bee-ootiful thing you ever did see?"
Fisher was sitting on the lower bunk beside Jed, working the action onhis own rifle. "It's a lovely weapon, allright. I just hope I can hitthe side of a barn with it."
"Hit a barn with it," Jed said in amazement, "why, Harry, with thishere gun I could hit a squirrel in the eye two ridges away and let youpick which eye."
Fisher grinned. "I've heard you mountain boys are pretty good with arifle. We'll see just how good you are next week when we go out on therange."
The following Monday morning on the range, the platoon gathered aroundCorporal Weisbaum.
"Awright, you bums," the corporal sneered, "here's where we separatethe men from the boys. Don't let the noise shake you too bad and if itkicks you in the shoulder a little, don't flinch. Remember what youlearned in dry fire practice--hold 'em and squeeze 'em off. This isjust familiarization fire, so don't worry if you don't hit the firstfew shots."
He gestured. "Awright. First order on the firing line."
Twenty men of the platoon, Jed included, moved up the embankment tothe firing positions. Two hundred yards away the big targets werelined up like billboards along the line of pits.
From the range control tower in the middle of the firing line, thebullhorn speakers blared. "Familiarization fire. Prone position."Twenty riflemen dropped to their knees and then forward onto theirbellies, their cheeks cuddling the stocks of the rifles.
"Twenty rounds. With ball ammunition, load and lock." Twenty boltssnapped shut.
"Ready on the right? Ready on the left?"
The flank safety officer signaled. "Ready on the firing line," thespeakers blared. "Commence firing."
Jed squinted down the sights and carefully squeezed off a shot. Aragged volley followed down the line. Jed was in position NumberEighteen and down range, his target atop a large painted sign bearingthe same number, dropped. Jed rolled over and yelled at CorporalWeisbaum. "Hey, corporal. I must have done shot 'n broke that theretarget. It just fell down."
Weisbaum grinned. "You didn't break nothing, hillbilly. You just gotlucky and hit somewhere on the target. Every time you hit it, theypull it down and mark where your shot hit so you can correct yoursights. See, here it comes back up again."
Target Number Eighteen rose above the pits. In the dead center of thesmall black bull's-eye was a small white dot. Weisbaum stared at thetarget, then swung a pair of binoculars to his eyes. "Man, talk aboutluck. You hit it smack in the center of the black."
The target dropped again for a pasted patch over the hole. Then itcame up.
Jed grinned happily and rolled back to the prone position, lookedbriefly down the sight and squeezed off another round. The targetdropped again. In a moment it was back up, the same white marker diskshowing in the black. Weisbaum put the glasses to his eyes again. "Iknew it was luck. You musta missed it, hillbilly, cause that's thesame mark you had last shot."
Jed frowned and waited for the target to be pulled and pasted, thenfired again. Once more it came up with the identical white marker inthe center. It was Weisbaum's turn to frown. "Better check that sight,Cromwell. You can't shoot on luck forever. Them last two rounds nevertouched the target."
The range radio safety operator came up to the corporal and handed himthe walkie talkie. "Pit wants to talk to you, corporal."
Weisbaum took the handset and held it to his ear. "This is CorporalWeisbaum. Yeah. He WHAT! You sure? Yeah, pull it and paste it. This Iwant to see."
He handed the handset to the radioman and glared at Jed. "So nowyou're some kinda wise guy, huh, hillbilly? You think you can keepshootin' on luck? The pits say you been hitting the same spot everytime. Nobody can do that. Now, go ahead, hillbilly. I want to see youdo it again."
Jed rolled over on his belly, looked and fired. Down went the targetto come up again with another dead-center marker.
"He did it again," the radioman declared to the corporal.
Weisbaum was beginning to get an awed look on his face. "Go on,hillbilly, keep firing."
Behind the corporal and the recruit, the radioman was talking softlyto the pits. "He's in position ... he's aiming ... he's holdin--" Theoperator stopped talking and shook his handset and held it again tohis ear. Jed fired. A split second later the radio burst into voice."... Did it again," the pit operator yelled excitedly.
Jed fired all twenty rounds into the exact same hole and the rangefiring came to a screeching halt. By the time he was on the finalround, all other firing had stopped and range officers and safetyNCO's were gathered in a semicircle around the prone mountain boy.
Weisbaum pounded Jed on the back as the young recruit scrambled to hisfeet and dusted his fatigues. "Man, what an eye. Wait 'til the old mansees this. Look," he took Jed by the arm, "you shoot like this all thetime back in them hills you come from?" Jed nodded. "I thought so,"Weisbaum cried happily. "Go sit down and take it easy. I want the oldman to come out and see this."
* * * * *
Jed smiled happily and walked off the firing line amidst the admiringstares of his fellow recruits. He flung himself on the ground in theshade of a stack of ammunition boxes and grinned to himself. Shucks,all that excitement over a little shooting. Back home he did it allthe time. But it'd make Ma proud to know he could do something realgood. He let his mind travel for the first time in weeks.
On the range road a few feet away, a convoy of trucks carrying anotherrecruit company to the ranges farther down the line, suddenlyspluttered and came to a stop as their engines died.
"Ma," Jed thought, "you busy?"
Behind the cabin in Bluebird Gulch, Ma Cromwell laid down the axe shehad been splitting firewood with and closed her eyes. "'Bout time youremembered your maw," she replied. "You all right, Sonny?"
"I'm jest fine, Ma. An' I did somethin' good, too, Ma. I just showedthese Army fellers what us Cromwells kin do with a rifle gun."
Jed lay in the warm sun and let the light filter through his closedeyelids. He paid no attention to the clanging of truck hoods and themuttered curses of a half dozen truck driver as they clambered overthe front of their vehicles trying to figure out what was causing themto hav
e engine trouble.
"What did you do, Sonny?" Ma asked.
"Tweren't really nothing, Ma," Jed replied. "I shot this herenewfangled gun they gave me at a big ol' target 'n hit it, Ma. Honest,Ma, that black circle they got in that thing is jest 'bout as big asthe hind end of a black bear and it ain't no further away than thebottom of the cornfield from the cabin door."
In the range control tower, Corporal Weisbaum was getting madder everysecond.
"What's the matter with that switchboard operator," he screamed."Don't he hear the buzzer?" He