Please keep on telling me.''
''You get into the town, and some handsome jerk puts an air mission on you.
This mission might have been ordered and never cancelled.
Let's give everyone the benefit of the doubt.
I'm just telling you about things in a general way.
It is better not to be specific and a civilian wouldn't understand it.
Not even you.
''This air mission does not help much, Daughter.
Because maybe you cannot stay in the town because you have got too few people in, and by now, you are digging them out of rubble; or leaving them in rubble.
There are two schools of thought on that.
So they say to take it by assault.
They repeat this.
''This has been rigidly confirmed by some politician in uniform who has never killed in his life, except with his mouth over the telephone, or on paper, nor ever has been hit.
Figure him as our next President if you want him.
Figure him any way you like.
But figure him and his people, the whole great business establishment, so far back that the best way to communicate with them rapidly would be by racing carrier pigeons.
Except, with the amount of security they maintained for their proper persons, they would probably have their anti-aircraft shoot the pigeons down.
If they could hit them.
''So you do it again.
Then I will tell you what it looks like.''
The Colonel looked up at the play of the light on the ceiling.
It was reflected, in part, from the Canal.
It made strange but steady movements, changing, as the current of a trout stream changes, but remaining, still changing as the sun moved.
Then he looked at his great beauty, with her strange, dark, grown-up child's face that broke his heart, that he would be leaving before 1335 (that was sure) and he said, ''Let's not talk about the war, Daughter.''
''Please,'' she said. ''Please.
Then I will have it all this week.''
''That's a short sentence.
I mean using the word sentence as a jail sentence.''
''You don't know how long a week can be when you are nineteen.''
''Several times I have known how long an hour can be,'' the Colonel said. ''I could tell you how long two minutes and a half can be.''
''Please tell me.''
''Well I had two days' leave in Paris between the Schnee-Eifel fight and this one, and due to my friendship with one or two people I was privileged to be present at some sort of a meeting, where only the accredited and trusted were present, and General Walter Bedell Smith explained to all of us how easy the operation that later took the name of Hurtgen Forest would be.
It was not really Hurtgen Forest.
That was only a small sector.
It was the Stadtswald and it was where the German High Command had figured, exactly, to fight after Aachen had been taken and the road into Germany breached.
I hope I am not boring you.''
''You never bore me.
Nothing about fighting bores me except lies.''
''You're a strange girl.''
''Yes,'' she said. ''I've known that for quite a long time.''
''Would you really like to fight?''
''I don't know if I could do it.
But I could try if you taught me.''
''I'll never teach you.
I'll just tell you anecdotes.''
''Sad stories of the death of kings.''
''No. GI's somebody christened them.
God how I hate that word and how it was used.
Comic book readers.
All from some certain place.