The Major winced slightly. He was not old and did not like to be thought old, but because he was bald and his face was lined, people took him to be older than he was. He did not like that.
“Youth is very important,” he murmured, paying no attention to what he was saying.
“Most important for the future,” agreed the Chaplain.
Martin was bored by this. He took his beer and sat down in an easy chair. He drank the beer slowly. It was green and tasted bitter. He watched Evans and Duval draw near to the Major. Both were good politicians.
“It looks as if the war will be over soon,” remarked Evans, a half-question in his voice.
“Yes,” said the Major. He always said “yes” first, even when he meant “no.”
“Yes, it should be over soon, but of course we have no effective way of gauging the enemy’s rate of attrition. The attrition rate is important. Attrition can decide wars.” Martin wondered if he would repeat this last: it sounded like a maxim. He did not. He continued. “There are only a few good strategists in the enemy’s army. They could be named on the fingers of one hand. Most of them know nothing but frontal attacks.”
“I guess bombings are messing them up,” suggested Evans.
“Wars,” said the Major, “cannot be won by aviation. No matter what the Air Corps says.” He sounded bitter. Martin wondered if the Major might not be jealous of the quick promotions in the Air Corps.
“I guess that’s right,” Evans agreed.