I wish that they would fly, the Colonel thought. A few fool ducks might come in.
I have to stay ready for them if they do.
But none came in and he had to think.
There were no shots from the other blinds and only occasional shots from the sea.
With the good light, the birds could see the ice and they no longer came in and instead went out to the open sea to raft up.
So he had no shooting and he thought without intention, trying to find what had made it at the first.
He knew he did not deserve it and he accepted it and he lived by it, but he sought, always, to understand it.
One time it had been two sailors when he had been walking with the girl at night.
They had whistled at her and, the Colonel thought, that was a harmless enough thing and he should have let it go.
But there was something wrong with it.
He sensed it before he knew it.
Then he knew it solidly, because he had stopped under a light, in order that they might see what he wore on his shoulders, so that they might take the other side of the street.
What he wore on each shoulder was a small eagle with wings out-stretched.
It was embroidered onto the coat he wore in silver thread.
It was not conspicuous, and it had been there a long time. But it was visible.
The two sailors whistled again.
''Stay over there against the wall if you want to watch it,'' the Colonel had said to the girl. ''Or look away.''
''They are very big and young.''
''They won't be big for long,'' the Colonel promised her.
The Colonel walked over to the whistlers.
''Where is your shore patrol?'' he asked.
''How would I know?'' the biggest whistler said. ''All I want is a good look at the dame.''
''Do people like you have names and serial numbers?''
''How would I know,'' one said.
The other said, ''I wouldn't tell a chicken Colonel if I had.''
Old army boy, the Colonel thought, before he hit him. Sea lawyer.
Knows all his rights.
But he hit him with a left from nowhere and hit him three times as he started to go.
The other one, the first whistler, had closed fast and well, for a man who had been drinking, and the Colonel gave him the elbow in the mouth and then, under the light, had a good right hand shot at him.
When it was in, he glanced at the second whistler and saw that was okay.
Then he threw a left hook.
Then he put the right way into the body, coming up.
He threw another left hook and then turned away and walked toward the girl because he did not want to hear the head hit the pavement.
He checked on the one that had it first, and noted he slept peacefully, chin down, with the blood coming out of his mouth.
But it was still the right color, the Colonel noted.
''Well, there goes my career,'' he said to the girl. ''Whatever that was.
But those people certainly wear funny pants.''
''How are you?'' the girl asked.
''I'm fine.
Did you watch it?''
''Yes.''
''I'll have bad hands in the morning,'' he said absent-mindedly. ''But I think we can walk away from it all right.
But let's walk slowly.''
''Please walk slowly.''
''I did not mean it that way.
I meant let's not be hurried in our departure.''
''We will walk as slowly as two people can walk.'' So they walked. ''Do you want to try an experiment?''
''Of course.''
''Let's walk so we make even the backs of our legs look dangerous.''
''I'll try.