The fleet came in at four o'clock.
With no one to help him, it seemed the General was lost. But the enemy was soon to discover that—
GENERALS HELP
THEMSELVES
By M. C. Pease
"Did it go well?" the aide asked.
The admiral, affectionately known as the Old Man, did not reply until he'd closed the door, crossed the room, and dropped into the chair at his desk. Then he said:
"Go well? It did not go at all. Every blasted one of them, from the President on down, can think of nothing but the way the Combine over-ran Venus. When I mention P-boats, they shout that the Venusians depended on P-boats, too, and got smashed by the Combine's dreadnoughts in one battle. 'You can't argue with it, man,' they tell me. And they won't listen."
"But the Venusians fought their P-ships idiotically," the aide complained. "It was just plain silly to let small, light, fast ships slug it out with dreadnoughts. If they had used Plan K—"
The Old Man snorted.