"Yes, a melodramatic one. We call it the bleeding death."
In the third week of our stay he came unexpectedly, late on a Wednesday afternoon. I talked to him alone as the other officers had gone on an early patrol. He was extremely agitated.
"I believe the counter-offensive will soon be starting," he said. "The Americans have refused to sell any more food to us and our radio is full of reports that the return of another wet spring in Europe and drought in Siberia is their doing. Today we were ordered to load all our available virus for shipment to Russia. We expect to send it Saturday."
"How will it go?"
"In refrigerated tank cars," he replied, and seeing my amazement, he added, "We do not have a bottling plant here. There are barely enough immune technicians to load it and seal the containers properly. I have been told there is an automatic bottling plant in Siberia which can put the virus in missile warheads without human aid, but of course I am not completely informed about these things."
"God! They must be desperate if they intend to let this thing loose on America without being immunized themselves."
"A calculated risk, Colonel. We can produce vaccine rapidly and protect those who matter before the disease rebounds to our lands."
"Those who matter! That's good! I'll give you three guesses who makes the decisions."
On their return that night I called in my officers and explained the situation.