Major Barkison wondered if his own request to join a certain General in another theater would be granted. He hoped it would be. There were times when he felt his whole career was being blocked in this, now inactive, theater of war.
“Arunga’s getting to be quite big, isn’t it, Major?”
“Yes, it’s about the best developed island here. Probably be quite a post-war base. Key to the northern defense.”
“So I hear.”
“Yes, the General was wise to build up Arunga.”
“I hear he’s got a big house there with a grand piano and all that sort of stuff.”
Barkison laughed. “He lives in a shack.”
“I guess somebody just started talking too much once.” Martin looked about him. “I got to go up top now,” he said. “Will you excuse me?”
“Certainly.” Martin left through the galley.
Major Barkison sat down on a bench in the salon. He looked at the books in the rack. Most of them looked dull.