"The war in Indo-China is over," the announcer said. "Peace was declared at 7:30 this morning. Also, a general truce has been called in Mongolia, and in Tanganyika." There was a lot of that. In Indo-China, it seemed that the rebels had given up the country to the French, declaring that all men should live in peace. The French immediately announced they were withdrawing their forces as fast as they could get planes for them. Every Frenchman was going to spend the last three days before Judgment in Paris.
For a moment I wished I was in Paris.
The announcer also said, the Russian airforce had agreed to pilot the Frenchmen home.
It was the same everywhere. Every country was leaning over backward, giving up this and that, offering land to its neighbors, shipping food to less fortunate areas, and so forth.
We listened over a bottle of Moselle—all the champagne had been drunk that morning. I think I got a little high. Anyhow, I walked back with my arms around two total strangers. We were assuring each other that peace, it was wonderful.
And it was at that.
I went home early, to miss the evening rush. It was still rough going. I grinned at my wife as I reached the door, and she grinned back. Jane was a little high, also.
The next day I brought my wife into the city. With three days left to go, two really because you couldn't count the Day itself, we figured we'd move into a good hotel, buy an armload of classical records and have our own private, quiet celebration. I thought we deserved it, although I could have been wrong.
Frank was already at the store when we got there. He was all dressed up, and he had a suitcase with him.