A Cook for Mr. General (by Steven Gethers) unloads a cargo of G.I. psychos and supermisfits at a Pacific rehabilitation camp. There is a baby brain who cannot sleep without his blue blanket. There is a balmy barracks lawyer whose eyes roll around like loose marbles. And there is a bearded oddball mystic who wears his G.I. blanket like a poncho, and upon being asked his rank, replies: "Commander of the forces of the Lord."
These neurotic goof-offs are more amusing than they have any right to bebut the one who should be the...
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