The Major scrambled to his feet. He was youthful and handsome, a fine marine in his polished boots, his immaculate dungarees--donned freshly clean, Culver had observed, that morning. He was of the handsomeness preferred by other military men--regular features, clean-cut, rather athletic--but there was a trace of peacetime fleshiness in his cheeks which often lent to the corners of his mouth a sort of petulance, so that every now and again, his young uncomplicated face in deep concentration over some operations map or training schedule or order, he looked like a spoiled and arrogant baby of five. “Aye-aye, sir,” he said and bent over the Colonel, bestowing upon him that third-person flattery which to Culver seemed perilously close to bootlicking and was thought to be considerably out of date, especially among the reserves. “Does the Colonel want us to run our own problem as ordered, sir?” He was a regular. Templeton took the headset from Hobbs, who lowered the radio down beside him in the sand. “Yeah, Billy,” he said, without looking up, “yeah, that’ll be all right. We’ll run her on time. Tell O’Leary to tell all companies to push off at thirteen-hundred.” “Aye-aye, sir.” And the Major, boots sparkling, was off in a puff of pine needles and dust. “Jesus,” Mannix said. He put down his messkit and nudged Culver in the ribs. Captain Mannix, the commanding officer of headquarters company, was Culver’s friend and, for five months, his closest one. He was a dark heavy-set Jew from Brooklyn, Culver’s age and a reserve, too, who had had to sell his radio store and leave his wife and two children at home. He had a disgruntled sense of humor which often seemed to bring a spark of relief not just to his own, but to Culver’s, feeling of futility and isolation. Mannix was a bitter man and, in his bitterness, sometimes recklessly vocal. He had long ago given up genteel accents, and spoke like a marine. It was easier, he maintained. “Je-_sus_,” he whispered again, too loud, “what’ll Congress do about this? Look at Billy chop-chop.”