“Come in!” he shouted.
Captain Evans obeyed.
“Broughton and Hinkley are on their way, sir,” he reported.
“Good. Send ’em in as soon as they get here. Now, Graves, let me tell you⸺” and the general was off on the passion of his life, which was flying in general and his flyers in particular.
Graves deftly inserted the proper question at the proper time, and before long the dynamic general had blueprints and specifications and maps out to strengthen his arguments further.
He was in the midst of describing what a two-thousand-pound bomb would do to a battleship, Times Square, a dock, or anything else it hit when Captain Evans entered again.
“Evans, you bother me to death. What the⸺”
“Lieutenants Broughton and Hinkley are here, sir,” returned the adjutant, standing at attention. Captain Evans was very correct.
“Oh yes. Send ’em in. From now on, Graves, it’s your funeral. Come in, boys. Mr. Graves, may I present Mr. Broughton and Mr. Hinkley. Sit down. All right, fire away, Graves.”