Page 103

'Five, eh?' Colonel Cathcart rubbed his cheek pensively. 'That isn't very good, is it?'

'Isn't it?' asked Milo in a sharply edged voice, glancing up again.

Colonel Cathcart quailed. 'On the contrary, that's very good, Milo,' he corrected himself hastily. 'It isn't bad at all.'

'No, Colonel,' Milo said, with a long, languishing, wistful sigh, 'it isn't very good. Although it's very generous of you to say so.'

'But it's really not bad, Milo. Not bad at all, when you consider all your other valuable contributions. Five missions, you say? Just five?'

'Just five, sir.'

'Just five.' Colonel Cathcart grew awfully depressed for a moment as he wondered what Milo was really thinking, and whether he had already got a black eye with him. 'Five is very good, Milo,' he observed with enthusiasm, spying a ray of hope. 'That averages out to almost one combat mission every two months. And I'll bet your total doesn't include the time you bombed us.'

'Yes, sir. It does.'

'It does?' inquired Colonel Cathcart with mild wonder. 'You didn't actually fly along on that mission, did you? If I remember correctly, you were in the control tower with me, weren't you?'

'But it was my mission,' Milo contended. 'I organized it, and we used my planes and supplies. I planned and supervised the whole thing.'

'Oh, certainly, Milo, certainly. I'm not disputing you. I'm only checking the figures to make sure you're claiming all you're entitled to. Did you also include the time we contracted with you to bomb the bridge at Orvieto?'

'Oh, no, sir. I didn't think I should, since I was in Orvieto at the time directing the antiaircraft fire.'

'I don't see what difference that makes, Milo. It was still your mission. And a damned good one, too, I must say. We didn't get the bridge, but we did have a beautiful bomb pattern. I remember General Peckem commenting on it. No, Milo, I insist you count Orvieto as a mission, too.'

'If you insist, sir.'

'I do insist, Milo. Now, let's see--you now have a grand total of six missions, which is damned good, Milo, damned good, really. Six missions is an increase of twenty per cent in just a couple of minutes, which is not bad at all, Milo, not bad at all.'

'Many of the other men have seventy missions,' Milo pointed out.

'But they never produced any chocolate-covered cotton, did they? Milo, you're doing more than your share.'

'But they're getting all the fame and opportunity,' Milo persisted with a petulance that bordered on sniveling. 'Sir, I want to get in there and fight like the rest of the fellows. That's what I'm here for. I want to win medals, too.'

'Yes, Milo, of course. We all want to spend more time in combat. But people like you and me serve in different ways. Look at my own record,' Colonel Cathcart uttered a deprecatory laugh. 'I'll bet it's not generally known, Milo, that I myself have flown only four missions, is it?'

'No, sir,' Milo replied. 'It's generally known that you've flown only two missions. And that one of those occurred when Aarfy accidentally flew you over enemy territory while navigating you to Naples for a black-market water cooler.' Colonel Cathcart, flushing with embarrassment, abandoned all further argument. 'All right, Milo. I can't praise you enough for what you want to do. If it really means so much to you, I'll have Major Major assign you to the next sixty-four missions so that you can have seventy, too.'

'Thank you, Colonel, thank you, sir. You don't know what this means.'

'Don't mention it, Milo. I know exactly what it means.'

'No, Colonel, I don't think you do know what it means,' Milo disagreed pointedly. 'Someone will have to begin running the syndicate for me right away. It's very complicated, and I might get shot down at any time.' Colonel Cathcart brightened instantly at the thought and began rubbing his hands with avaricious zest. 'You know, Milo, I think Colonel Korn and I might be willing to take the syndicate off your hands,' he suggested in an offhand manner, almost licking his lips in savory anticipation. 'Our experience in black-market plum tomatoes should come in very useful. Where do we begin?' Milo watched Colonel Cathcart steadily with a bland and guileless expression. 'Thank you, sir, that's very good of you. Begin with a salt-free diet for General Peckem and a fat-free diet for General Dreedle.'

'Let me get a pencil. What's next?'

'The cedars.'

'Cedars?'

'From Lebanon.'

' Lebanon?'

'We've got cedars from Lebanon due at the sawmill in Oslo to be turned into shingles for the builder in Cape Cod. C.O.D. And then there's the peas.'

'Peas?'