Michael G. Malaghan
Special to The Hawai‘i Herald

Kenta and his men followed the sergeant to the back of the gym where several closed doors lined the wall. He had never seen those doors open and assumed that they led to a utility room housing pipes and wires. A brass ring holding a half-dozen four-inch-long keys dangled from the sergeant’s hand. He pulled off one key and handed it to Kenta.

“Open the doors.” He turned back to the rest of the platoon and ordered, “You men go get five tables and a dozen chairs.”

“But there aren’t any tables here,” Stonehead protested, adding, belatedly, “Sir.”

The sergeant glared at Stonehead. “That’s why I’m ordering you to go find some, genius.”

“To the cafeteria!” bellowed Fats.

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