The Chaplain giggled. “Through the grapevine. You hear all sorts of things that way, you know.”
Barkison nodded. “It looks like it’ll be coming through any time now.”
“That’ll be nice for you. Your career and all that.”
“Yes, it will be nice.” The Major poured himself a cup of coffee from the pot on the stove. Then he sat down again. He poured some canned milk into the coffee.
“They say that the natives think that’s where milk comes from, out of a can,” Hodges remarked.
“You can get to like condensed milk,” said the Major. “I never used to like it before I came up here.” He stirred his coffee and thought of Fort Lewis where he had been stationed for many years before the war. As he remembered, he missed the trees and green fields the most; large leafy trees and green smooth clover pastures. He wondered how long it would be before he went back.
“Where is your home?” asked the Chaplain, turning to Hodges.
“Virginia, the northern part.”
“Oh, really. That’s quite near to me. You know the monastery of Saint Oliver?” Hodges shook his head. “Well that’s where I was, near Baltimore, you know. When I was a child I used to visit relatives in Pikefield County. You didn’t know anyone in Pikefield, did you?”
“I’m afraid I never did. I was never in the southern part of the state much. I was mostly in Fairfax.”