Fifteen days to Hampton Roads, with sunny weatherand a sea like glass every day up to the last two days and then a stiff northwesterly wind that kicked up considerable chop off the Capes. Rommie, help me do salads. All fiatlanders. Neither am I.
I ate my burger, drank my liquefied icecream, and tried not to look at what was caught on the flypaper. I taggled my own quartermack, she said, and laughed. Bud went down to San Antonio to learn to fly and Buster, who'd been in the militia, lied about his age and joined up as a private and was sent to Jefferson Barracks. I shuffled down to the north wing like an old, old man, lookedat my wet clothes, thought about taking them into the laundry room, andthen decided if I bent over that far, my head might explode.
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