"About six months. Then there will be a month of special preparations for the attack itself. After that we wait for the right weather and the psychologically correct moment. The idea is to delay until the last possible moment before the Reds are ready to attack us and pull the rug out from under them. We hope the confusion and loss of morale will be so great that the partisans or maquis or whatever you want to call them will be able to rise and overthrow the communist regime." "Adding all this up," I said, "I gather you expect the special training to start in about two weeks from now." "That's right," Colonel Jones said. "That's why we need an answer soon." "I have one week left of my vacation before I return to Vancouver. I'll let you know then." "Thank you. I'll leave all the necessary information with Dr. Hallam at his office." Jones got up, bent slightly in Pat's direction and again to me, while he gave us a formal handshake. He climbed over the side and got into the amphibian without a backward glance. "I wish I hadn't had to do this," the Chief said hurriedly as his big hands reached out for ours. "Try not to let it ruin the rest of your vacation. God bless!" He squeezed and my hand tingled until long after his great frame had vanished into the cabin of the flying boat. * * * * * After they had gone Pat cooked the fish I'd caught and we sat down to eat and talk things over. I hadn't committed myself in any way. My days as an eager beaver soldier were long gone and I was remembering the old army saying, "Never volunteer for anything." Pat had been unusually quiet. I knew she would go along with any decision I made but it is still not an easy thing for a woman to sit still while her man is thinking of committing what might turn out to be suicide. "Want a drink?" she asked, getting out the bottles before I could answer. She mixed us a rum collins, taking the last of the ice from our little refrigerator. "Well, what are you thinking?" "I'm thinking just how much hell the next eight months will be." "Hell for both of us, darling," she said. She leaned across the narrow table to kiss me. "I'm glad you want to do it. It may not win the war but you'd never be happy again if you didn't try." I didn't relish the idea at all but I knew she was right. I'd always been a volunteer. It was too late to change. I heaved up off the bench and went on deck. The stars were out now and high overhead an Alaska-bound plane hummed by, its green and red lights winking. "Red light ... green light ... GO," I thought and remembered again the quivering anticipation as I stood in the door of the C-119 watching for a little green button to flash on. I shivered with old remembered fears and I felt Pat's arms go around me from behind as she kissed the back of my neck. I think she sensed my trouble. She knew how I had sweated out jumping and the long strain of combat duty.