"I'm growing old," he said, unaware he was speaking out loud.
"Pardon, sir?" The regular service Sergeant-Major closed the door and brought over his cup of coffee. "Did you say something, sir?"
"What?" Reilly blinked. "Oh, nothing. Nothing at all, Sergeant. Just an old man muttering to himself."
"Begging the general's pardon, sir, I don't think you're an old man at all. At least, no older than myself." He cocked his head. "Although, to be perfectly honest with both of us, sir, there are times when I just can't seem to keep up with these children they keep sending us nowadays."
"We're both ready for retirement, Sergeant. Old work horses, ready to be turned out to pasture. I guess this will be the last class I see through these old doors. I've submitted my resignation, you know." Reilly moodily regarded his coffee.
"Yessir, I knew. The rest of the faculty knows too. And if I might be so bold as to say so, sir, we'll all be sorry to see you go. It won't be the same Academy without General Reilly glarin' a bit at us all."
"Glaring a bit, is it, Sergeant?" He glared now, then broke down into a smile. "I suppose I do at that. Do the cadets still call me Old Stoneface?"
"Not within my hearing, sir." He grinned. "But you know cadets. You were one yourself. I suppose it'd be as difficult to stop cadets from tagging their teachers with nicknames as it'd be to ride a star bareback."
Reilly sighed, and swiveled his chair until he could see through the one cluttered window. The parade ground stretched away beneath, the system pennant fluttered briskly in the stiff breeze. Into his view marched a battalion of Cadets. Much the same scene had repeated itself daily during the thirty years he had occupied the office. "The faces change."
"Sir?"