Dorman smiled.
Another face came close. He fought with his brain to tear away the obscurity... and then atop the head that was close to him he saw a silver star gleaming from the little cap.
Then he knew.
That was General Mitchell.
“How do you feel, Dorman?” he asked.
George Dorman licked his lips.
“Okay, sir. I’m okay. What happened?”
The General grinned.
“The Gotha crashed and its bombs exploded. You were a full fifty feet above and got the repercussion.”
“Oh,” Dorman said. He moved his head. “Feels like I been here ten years. Is the war over yet?”