"There are other things to do in the Army."
"I hate them," said Dugan. "Sorry, Colonel. This time I said sorry first. You've been very generous and encouraging, sir. But you still want a summary, don't you?"
"Can you do it, Dugan? You must be tired, after all these days of Japanese and then American interrogation. By the way, how did you ever satisfy the Japanese police and get on down to Tokyo?"
"Met a man I'd known here during the B-29 raids. He called me Lieutenant Hayashi. The other Japanese were so busy cussing me out for making myself a colonel that they practically threw me into the country. Can I dictate the draft of a final report? Do you have a safe stenographer?"
"Sergeant Wilson's all right." Landsiedel pressed a button on his desk. A young soldier looked in the door. He was immensely tall but touchingly young.
"Get your book, Wilson," said Landsiedel. Dugan raised an eyebrow.
Landsiedel, glancing toward the open door, said, "Talk as fast as you want to Wilson. He won the Mountain States Gregg contest last year."
The sergeant came in with a notebook and sat down erectly and formally. Dugan closed his eyes and began to dictate:
"Major Michael A. Dugan proceeded to the location indicated in his instructions and confirmed the reported existence of a Soviet installation at the latitude and longitude hitherto provisionally assigned.
"A partial topographical map of the area has been prepared, combining data from the air-photo reconnaissance and the ground visit.