“I will. I think it’ll be pretty good.”

“Hard to say. This is funny weather.”

The truck let them off at the Army Transport Service Office. The office was housed in a long, one-storied, gray building.

The outer room was large, and here four or five enlisted men were doing clerical work beneath fluorescent lights. The walls were decorated with posters warning against poison gas, faulty camouflage, and venereal disease.

One of the clerks spoke to Evans. “The Captain’s waiting for you,” he said.

“I think I’ll go check with Weather,” said Bervick. “I’ll see you back to the boat.”

“Fine.” Evans walked down a corridor to the Captain’s office.

A desk and three neat uncomfortable chairs furnished the room. On the walls were pictures of the President, several Generals, and several nudes. The nudes usually came down during inspections.

The Captain was sitting hunched over his desk. He was a heavy man with large features. He was smoking a pipe and talking at the same time to a Major who sat in one of the three uncomfortable chairs. They looked up as Evans entered.

“Hello there, Skipper,” said the Captain and he took his pipe out of his mouth. “I want you to meet an old friend of mine, Major Barkison.”

The Major stood up and shook hands with Evans. “Glad to know you, Mister....”

[19]“Evans.”

[19]

“Mister Evans. It looks as if you’ll be pressed into service.”

“Yes it does ... sir.” He added the “sir” just in case.

“I hope the trip will be a calm one,” remarked the Major with a smile.

“It should be.” Evans relaxed. The Major seemed to be human.

Major Barkison was a West Pointer and quietly proud of the fact. Though not much over thirty he was already bald. He had a Roman nose, pale blue eyes, and a firm but small chin. He looked like the Duke of Wellington. Knowing this, he hoped that someone 

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