"I wonder where Harry is," Polly spoke as she looked into the fire, absently twirling the liqueur glass in her fingers.
"Have you had any news?" I asked.
"I got a letter this morning," she replied and added after a pause. "They left for the Chinese mainland a week ago."
The wood crackled on the hearth and the room was silent again. I thought of the bare brown hills of China; of the squalid mud huts like those I had known in Korea; of the lice and fleas, the filth and bitter cold; of the snow that sprinkled the stunted brush and dusted the stubbled rice paddies. I thought too of the death that lingered in those dank and sweaty rooms, black holes of fear and despair.
"God help them," I said fervently and added a little prayer for myself in the days to come.
Polly began again. "He wrote the letter on the assault landing craft and sent it back with the Navy. Apparently they had not managed to perfect a vaccine before they left Formosa so the party is unprotected against the measlepox. They hope to find enough survivors on the mainland to collect anti-serum, provided they can keep away from Red patrols."
"It's a shame they couldn't have waited another couple of weeks," the Chief spoke up.
"Why so?" Pat asked.
"I got news this morning that our agents in Russia have sent out more of the vaccine, stolen by the partisans, I suppose. It should be available in a day or so and some of it will be rushed out to the research teams for their protection."