President Wong nodded tiredly. "I have the tapes. I'll study all your positions tonight."
he Manager of Trade and the Manager of Foreign Affairs rose and left the room. The Manager of Defense stayed in his seat.
"If you feel up to it," Al said, "the Manager of Defense would appreciate it if you would present a Presidential citation to the remains of the Third Company. They were involved in a police action in the system of Veganea, and their morale is shattered. As you know, the award is traditional, as is the speech. Here's the text—all you need do is read it."
"All right," President Wong said, taking the paper from Al's hand and scanning it. There was only one paragraph.
The door opened and four old men entered, followed by an honor guard of eight husky privates. They approached the desk and stood at attention. President Wong looked up from the speech and felt a wave of sudden nausea. For a second, he was afraid that he actually was going to be sick. None of their old lined faces was complete. The worst wounded had less than half a face, and that discolored by purple blotches of radiation scar-tissue. He was blind, and the others maneuvered him into position before the desk.
"For the heroic parts which you played in the Police Action against Veganea—" Wong stumbled over the name, then continued hastily—"I, the President of the Solar Union, hereby...."
"Rot," said the blind one, through toothless gums in a voice that was only a hoarse whisper. "Tell me, do you know where Veganea is? Does anyone on Earth know where Veganea is, or care? How many men, Mr. President, how many men, young and healthy, left for that police action? Do you know?" His hoarse voice rose. "Four came back ... but can any of you gentlemen tell me how many left?"
"That's enough," the Manager of Defense said. At his signal, two of the honor guards gently took hold of the veteran's arms and walked him out of the room along with the others.