"I am not forgetting it. But the enemy outnumbers us two to one—"
"I am waiting," said the general, "to hear from those two infantrymen who reported some time ago from a listen-post in the dead area."
The chief of staff pointed to the outline formed by the red glows where tanks were battling.
"Those fights are keeping up too long!" he said sharply. "General, don't you see, they're driving back our line, but they aren't driving it back as fast as if they were throwing their whole weight on it! If they were making a frontal attack there, they'd wipe out the tanks we have facing them; they'd roll right over them! That's a feint! They're concentrating in the dead space—"
"I am waiting," said the general softly, "to hear from those two infantrymen." He looked at the board again and said quietly, "Have the call-signal sent them. They may answer."
He struck a match to relight his dead cigar. His fingers barely quivered as they held the match. It might have been excitement—but it might have been foreboding, too.
"By the way," he said, holding the match clear, "have our machine-shops and supply-tanks ready to move. Every plane is, of course, ready to take the air on signal. But get the aircraft ground personnel in their traveling tanks immediately."
Voices began to murmur orders as the general puffed. He watched the board steadily.
"Let me know if anything is heard from these infantrymen...."