“This, for the present,” said the colonel—his tone was impressive—“will be your post. It is not entirely safe. It is extremely important. I may tell you quite frankly,”—his voice rumbled low—“that if there was a man under my command who could do a better job up here than you, he would be stationed here.”
“Than—Oh, thanks!” Gale stammered.
“Don’t thank me.” His manner was almost blunt. “This is war. In war, the best man for each post must fill it. You are the one for this station. You have been tried by fire, and have not been found wanting. Japs beat the tar out of us in Burma. Now we’re going back.”
“And beat the tar out of them,” said Jan.
“Exactly,” said the colonel. “And now,”—his voice dropped—“I suggest that we have a cup of coffee. In half an hour I shall give you a glimpse of our promised land.”
“Burma?” Gale whispered in surprise.
“None other,” he smiled.
“What magic!” she murmured. To this he made no reply. But producing a large thermos bottle, the colonel took a loaf of bread, an electric toaster, and half a dozen doughnuts from a niche in the stone wall.
“All the comforts of home,” he murmured as the two girls assisted in preparing breakfast.