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The regulations didn't state, ration cards only if drink or smoke. Surebe got up an actual sweat about it. Black and white, he was entitled - end of story. He wasn't giving them-up. He could have them if he wanted, and always say when pressed, I give liqueur and cigarettes to the relatives, of his young and beauteous Greek wife. He also played playing cards I was told, twice every week, and never lost at Poker. That is what they said. He owned at least one hotel rumor had it; and maybe two. There were various other rumors of Surebe's money schemes, but I don't remember. He daren't talk to me of it. No telling, I was from DC.
Surebe was in Switzerland. Hqs had a problem with my morning report. They made me come up the mountain and take my submission back I'd sent up earlier. It was a daily accounted-for report, due no later than nine AM. They had an Army Regulation change that I didn't get; very emphatic they were. I - just a smiling wood-dummy paid absolutely no attention to regulations. Drive it down - change it, give it to Capt Whereins for his signature; and immediately drive it back up. Seemed fishy to me. They didn't get that I wasn't playing the game. I didn't care.
Driving up the mountain I drove right off the road, in the tippy-Jeep, down an incline, and pulled back up and out, doing twenty miles and hour. And that was on a straight away. Lucky there and I knew it.
It was a very interesting stretch of road. Intellectually you knew you were going up-hill because you can see the distant mountain. But driving up it was hard to tell that you were ascending at all, and that sometimes one seemed tp be going down. It looked and felt flat.
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