CRACK!
The game was afoot. Or in this case, the targets.
CRACK!
"Keep it up, recruits!" The lieutenant growled. "Drake is scheduled to come down here, and he could be here any second now! Infantry Squadron number one-oh-four will not look like a volunteer army in front of a commanding officer. What WILL we look like, men?"
CRACK!
"Fighting men, sir!"
"That's right! Private Sands! What's the problem?"
The squadron turned to look. Sands was shooting at the targets, all right-but he was hitting trees. He coughed, hoping to hit, and fired. Another tree shook.
"You'd better get into shape before-men, quick! He's here!"
Indeed, Commanding Officer Drake was there. He surveyed Squadron Number 104. All seemed well...until his gaze fell on Private Sands.
"Here, you're holding your gun all wrong. Hey, that's the way Eagle used to hold it. Why are you in the army? We're sending you to Air Force."
Sands shrugged. "I don't know if I can do anything right."
"Well," Drake replied, "what else are you gonna do? Shoot yourself?"
"Maybe I should." Sands walked away from the shooting range, head hanging.
Drake rubbed his chin for a moment, then yelled, "Stop!"
Sands turned. "Yes sir?"
"Looking at your accuracy record, I strongly suggest that you take a couple extra rounds."
The game was afoot. Or in this case, the targets.
CRACK!
"Keep it up, recruits!" The lieutenant growled. "Drake is scheduled to come down here, and he could be here any second now! Infantry Squadron number one-oh-four will not look like a volunteer army in front of a commanding officer. What WILL we look like, men?"
CRACK!
"Fighting men, sir!"
"That's right! Private Sands! What's the problem?"
The squadron turned to look. Sands was shooting at the targets, all right-but he was hitting trees. He coughed, hoping to hit, and fired. Another tree shook.
"You'd better get into shape before-men, quick! He's here!"
Indeed, Commanding Officer Drake was there. He surveyed Squadron Number 104. All seemed well...until his gaze fell on Private Sands.
"Here, you're holding your gun all wrong. Hey, that's the way Eagle used to hold it. Why are you in the army? We're sending you to Air Force."
Sands shrugged. "I don't know if I can do anything right."
"Well," Drake replied, "what else are you gonna do? Shoot yourself?"
"Maybe I should." Sands walked away from the shooting range, head hanging.
Drake rubbed his chin for a moment, then yelled, "Stop!"
Sands turned. "Yes sir?"
"Looking at your accuracy record, I strongly suggest that you take a couple extra rounds."