"I'll tell you this for nuthin, Sarge," said Corporal Fassenfelt, munching a mince pie, "I don't wanna accentuate the differences between us and the folks who live here, you know, men in skirts, an all that, an that hokum they call mouth music – I can't make out a single word - but see when it comes to these pies, I'm on cloud nine, before we get shipped back Stateside, I'm gonna fill a kitbag with them an take them home to Crackjaw, I'll be the talk of the town!" – which was when Sergeant Mix asked: "are there many people in your town descended from Poles?" and Fassenfelt gave him a wary glance: "whaddaya mean, Sarge, sticks?" and Mix laughed: "no, you dope, people from Poland," and Fassenfelt laughed too: "sure, most of the town, it was even founded by a guy called Tadeusz Brzęczyszczykiewicz in the 19th Century!" and Mix asked: "and how do you spell the town's name, at which Fassenfelt gave him a suspicious look, as if to say "I ain't illiterate, even though I come from Arizona," then spelt it out: "K-r-a-k-ó-w! Crackjaw!"