“Thank you, C.H. We’ll be along momentarily. Tell everyone to stand by.”
“Yes, sir!”
Again the flashy salute, which the commander was obliged to return before turning back to the company.
“As I was saying, once you’re cleaned up, report to the main ballroom. As you may have noticed, your new uniforms have arrived today, and there are tailors waiting for your final fittings. Carry on.”
His final words were nearly drowned out by a loud whoop of enthusiasm as the Legionnaires surged forward into the hotel, barely remembering their commander’s order regarding the newspapers.
Following in their wake, Phule saw Chocolate Harry surrounded by a knot of Legionnaires admiring his uniform while waiting their turn at the elevators.
“Sergeant?”
“Yes, sir?”
The supply sergeant broke away from his admirers and hurried to Phule’s side.
“Relax, C.H. The uniform looks great on you.”
“Thank you, sir. I mean … it do, don’t it?”
Harry craned his neck around, trying to catch a reflection of himself in one of the lobby minors.
“I was under the impression that uniform was designed with sleeves, though.”
“That’s the way it come out of the box,” the sergeant acknowledged, “but I had a few words with the man in charge and convinced him they could come off. I like it better this way-easier to move in.”
He swung his arms back and forth, then flexed his substantial biceps as if to prove his point.
“I see what you mean, C.H. Maybe I’ll try that with a couple of my uniforms.”
Phule suppressed the visions flashing in his mind of the confrontation between Harry and the uniform’s designer.