Page:History of the 305th field artillery (IA historyof305thfi01camp).pdf/38

20 clothing. Sizes were limited, and we hadn't suspected before nature's infinite variety in modeling the human form. We made an axiom at the start. The more peculiar the shape, the more particular the owner.

"For the lova Mike, mister, I can't wear that coat. Makes me look as if I'd broke me breast bone."

Or:

"You got to melt me to get me into this."

Everybody worked with patience and a desire to be fair, but, just the same, you had to make both ends meet and as the hours flew by you may have hurried a little.

It was during these sessions that a rotund and good-natured officer gave us a stirring example and prophesied his own future.

“You're in luck. That's a wonderful fil," you'd hear him say to a man with a 32 chest lost in a 36 blouse.

"You're a perfect 36. Might have been cut for you."

The man would gather a fistfull of the excess cloth, stretching it towards the officer.

“Cut for an elephant."

"The tailor will alter it so it won't look like the saille blouse."

"I'm not saying anything about its looks. All I'm saying is maybe it isn't quite big enough for a good-sized elephant."

The officer's buttons would stretch.

"If you want to get along in the army, young man, you'll do as you're told. I wouldn't mind wearing that blouse myself."

"But," an officer would whisper to him. "You're not quite as big as a good-sized elephant."

The officer would grin and continue to show us how to make the best of the material in hand.

“That hat isn't too big for you," he would call out in bis cheery voice. "Gives your hair a chance to grow."