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NO TIME FOR SERGEANTS, by Mac Hymen (214 pp.; Random House; $2.95), is the comic saga of how the U.S. Air Force grabs a Georgia cracker and learns it has bit off more than it can chew. Will Stockdale is not mean, but too dark an eight ball for even a general to stand behind. He is drafted after a pitched battle on Tobacco Road and in the barracks blows doleful music on his mouth harp to the tune Mother Ain't Dead, She's Only Sleeping. Will's perceptive sergeant appoints him permanent latrine orderly. On inspection day, the colonel almost jumps out of his uniform when Will jerks the wire he has rigged up and a long line of latrine seats comes clattering to attention. Soon Will joins a bomber crew that is almost equal to him. The pilot, who once flew planes "that didn't have but one little bitty engine," becomes incensed when told two of his engines need fixing. "What do you mean, it's in no condition to fly!" he screams. "Don't you have any guts?" Will manages to get into the extraordinary jam of being awarded two medals posthumously ("We had give our lives for our country, which was about as far beyond the call of duty as you could get") while he is still alive. Will tells his own story, drawl and all, and is very funny telling it.