The Famous Curb Service Whorehouse consisted of a half dozen mud and thatch huts, prefaced by a sign reading: “Last Chance Before Peking” and surmounted by an American Flag flying from its central edifice.

“You need anything here?” asked Hawkeye, noting the Duke saluting and nodding as the jeep chugged through the waving, cooing colorama.

“No,” the Duke said. “I shopped in Seoul last night, but something else bothers me now.”

“You should know better, doctor.” Hawkeye said.

As they ate they knew they were being looked over. Finally one of the others got up and approached them.

“I’m Colonel Blake,” he said eyeing them. “You fellows just passing through?”

“No,” replied Hawkeye. “We’re assigned here.”

“You sure?” the Colonel asked.

“Y’all said you needed two good boys,” Duke said, “and we’re what the Army sent.”

“Where you guys been all day? I expected you by noon.”

“We stopped at a gin mill,” the Duke told him.

“Let me see your orders.”

They got out their papers and handed them to the Colonel. They watched him while he checked the papers and then while he eyed the two of them again.

“Well, it figures,” Henry said finally. “You guys look like a pair of weirdos to me.”

“O’Reilly?”

“Sir?” Radar O’Reilly said, already at the colonel’s side, for he had received the message even before it had been sent.

“Don’t do that, O’Reilly,” Henry said. “You make me nervous.”

“Sir?”

“Take these officers...”

“To Major Hobson’s tent,” Radar said.

“Stop that, O’Reilly,” Henry said.