“Orders!” Isabelle whispered, flapping a paper in the air. “Marching orders.” At that Gale nearly collapsed on the stairs.
“What does it mean?” she gasped, when at last they were in their room with the door fast closed. “Let me see the orders.”
Without a word Isabelle handed her the paper. The order was directed to Gale alone. Isabelle had received hers straight from the colonel himself.
As she read, Gale’s eyes widened. First there were some words of commendation for her—“Efficient and valiant service.” Then came the orders. These were brief and to the point. She was to be prepared to leave the city by car that night for a “protracted absence, perhaps months. You will travel with Isabelle, Jan and Than Shwe.” She read on:
“Isabelle, Jan, Than Shwe!” she exclaimed. “How grand! But tell me!” she demanded, turning to Isabelle, “Is this IT?”
“This, as far as I can see, is it,” was the solemn reply. “The colonel told me nothing, just gave me my marching orders. But to himself he said, ‘We’re going back. At last, by God, we’re going back! And we’ve got power!’”
“The power and the glory,” Gale whispered.
“He didn’t say ‘and the glory’. I don’t believe he ever thinks of that,” was Isabelle’s solemn reply. “He’s a real soldier. All he wants is men, machines and power.”
There was little more to Gale’s orders. She was to take with her only such personal belongings as were necessary. These were to be carried on their own car which Jan was to drive. Their bedding and equipment, radar equipment and all else would go by truck.
“And Mac?” she said to Isabelle? “Is he going?”