Major Clinton’s heart--in fact his whole body--filled with joy. He jumped from his chair and rushed outside straight to his former Warrant Officer.

“Scofield! So you decided you wanted to be a Cannoneer after all!”

“There are worse things, Sir,” Scofield said, bravely.

In the Baker Battery Orderly Room, First Sgt. Albert Hill was almost as joyful as the Major. He examined Scofield’s file with gleaming eyes. His men were nearly all high school dropouts with hardly any intellectual accomplishments or aspirations. Scofield was a gem.

“This Scofield is a fine one, Sir,” he told Capt. Warren, the Battery Commander. “General Classification Test score is 150 and he has worked in survey! Perfect for the Instruments Section!”

“He’s a Cannoneer,” said the Captain glumly. “Major Clinton’s orders. Put him in the First Section.”

Enough said.

Chapter 4

His erstwhile religious environment provided the framework for Scofield’s thoughts as he carried his gear into Baker Battery’s barracks.

“God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?”