Straight from Kamp Devens, Private Hu Flung marched briskly into the Stadium and jostled his way into a seat. "Don't Mesereau-nd," snarled a nearby shavetail. "Yes, sir," said the Sage, musing to himself that the 2nd looey was making a mountain out of a moleHill. "Try an alkaSalzer, sir," he added flippantly. "It'll make you feel better."
Settled at last Huey surveyed the Cadets. "There are plenty of Olds in the Army line," he meditated, "although the backs will a-Mazur. Woods you believe it if I said the Crimson'll stuff Army down the Hatch? Harvard will bring home the bacon."