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I
guess
that
was
the
worst
time
in
all
my
life
.
I
was
already
in
bad
shape
for
a
personal
reason
:
My
mother
had
been
in
Buenos
Aires
when
the
Bugs
smeared
it
.
I
found
out
about
it
one
time
when
we
put
in
at
Sanctuary
for
more
capsules
and
some
mail
caught
up
with
us
a
note
from
my
Aunt
Eleanora
,
one
that
had
not
been
coded
and
sent
fast
because
she
had
failed
to
mark
for
that
;
the
letter
itself
came
.
It
was
about
three
bitter
lines
.
Somehow
she
seemed
to
blame
me
for
my
mother
's
death
.
Whether
it
was
my
fault
because
I
was
in
the
Armed
Services
and
should
have
therefore
prevented
the
raid
,
or
whether
she
felt
that
my
mother
had
made
a
trip
to
Buenos
Aires
because
I
was
n't
home
where
I
should
have
been
,
was
not
quite
clear
;
she
managed
to
imply
both
in
the
same
sentence
.
I
tore
it
up
and
tried
to
walk
away
from
it
.
I
thought
that
both
my
parents
were
dead
--
since
Father
would
never
send
Mother
on
a
trip
that
long
by
herself
.
Aunt
Eleanora
had
not
said
so
,
but
she
would
n't
have
mentioned
Father
in
any
case
;
her
devotion
was
entirely
to
her
sister
.
I
was
almost
correct
--
eventually
I
learned
that
Father
had
planned
to
go
with
her
but
something
had
come
up
and
he
stayed
over
to
settle
it
,
intending
to
come
along
the
next
day
.
But
Aunt
Eleanora
did
not
tell
me
this
.
A
couple
of
hours
later
the
Lieutenant
sent
for
me
and
asked
me
very
gently
if
I
would
like
to
take
leave
at
Sanctuary
while
the
ship
went
out
on
her
next
patrol
--
he
pointed
out
that
I
had
plenty
of
accumulated
R&R
and
might
as
well
use
some
of
it
.
I
do
n't
know
how
he
knew
that
I
had
lost
a
member
of
my
family
,
but
he
obviously
did
.
I
said
no
,
thank
you
,
sir
;
I
preferred
to
wait
until
the
outfit
all
took
R&R
together
.
I
'm
glad
I
did
it
that
way
,
because
if
I
had
n't
,
I
would
n't
have
been
along
when
the
Lieutenant
bought
it
...
and
that
would
have
been
just
too
much
to
be
borne
.
It
happened
very
fast
and
just
before
retrieval
.
A
man
in
the
third
squad
was
wounded
,
not
badly
but
he
was
down
;
the
assistant
section
leader
moved
in
to
pick
up
--
and
bought
a
small
piece
of
it
himself
.
The
Lieutenant
,
as
usual
,
was
watching
everything
at
once
--
no
doubt
he
had
checked
physicals
on
each
of
them
by
remote
,
but
we
'll
never
know
.
What
he
did
was
to
make
sure
that
the
assistant
section
leader
was
still
alive
;
then
made
pickup
on
both
of
them
himself
,
one
in
each
arm
of
his
suit
.
He
threw
them
the
last
twenty
feet
and
they
were
passed
into
the
retrieval
boat
--
and
with
everybody
else
in
,
the
shield
gone
and
no
interdiction
,
was
hit
and
died
instantly
I
have
n't
mentioned
the
names
of
the
private
and
of
the
assistant
section
leader
on
purpose
.
The
Lieutenant
was
making
pickup
on
all
of
us
,
with
his
last
breath
.
Maybe
I
was
the
private
.
It
does
n't
matter
who
he
was
.
What
did
matter
was
that
our
family
had
had
its
head
chopped
off
.
The
head
of
the
family
from
which
we
took
our
name
,
the
father
who
made
us
what
we
were
.
After
the
Lieutenant
had
to
leave
us
Captain
Deladrier
invited
Sergeant
Jelal
to
eat
forward
,
with
the
other
heads
of
departments
.
But
he
begged
to
be
excused
.
Have
you
ever
seen
a
widow
with
stern
character
keep
her
family
together
by
behaving
as
if
the
head
of
the
family
had
simply
stepped
out
and
would
return
at
any
moment
?
That
's
what
Jelly
did
.
He
was
just
a
touch
more
strict
with
us
than
ever
and
if
he
ever
had
to
say
:
"
The
Lieutenant
would
n't
like
that
,
"
it
was
almost
more
than
a
man
could
take
.
Jelly
did
n't
say
it
very
often
.
He
left
our
combat
team
organization
almost
unchanged
;
instead
of
shifting
everybody
around
,
he
moved
the
assistant
section
leader
of
the
second
section
over
into
the
(
nominal
)
platoon
sergeant
spot
,
leaving
his
section
leaders
where
they
were
needed
--
with
their
sections
--
and
he
moved
me
from
lance
and
assistant
squad
leader
into
acting
corporal
as
a
largely
ornamental
assistant
section
leader
.
Then
he
himself
behaved
as
if
the
Lieutenant
were
merely
out
of
sight
and
that
he
was
just
passing
on
the
Lieutenant
's
orders
,
as
usual
.
