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he paid no attention to anything else. Davis had learned to respect the General’s knowledge of meteorology up to a point. Beyond that it was hopeless because the General was incurably subjective about weather. He thought, as most people did, only of its accommodation to his own purposes.
    Davis was familiar, from civilian life, with this attitude, but the army had produced a variation on it that troubled him. Weather, for military understanding, was studied, estimated, and prophesied at two-hour intervals in each one of innumerable ascending headquarters from Operating Group to Hemisphere Commander.
    The readings and estimates were made by different men, having access to different parts of the same available data; the prophesies reflected the many differences. At first Davis had thought this merely another instance of the superfluity and confusion of all things military. Lately he had begun to realize that as weather was a determinative factor in action, its readings fixed responsibility for ordering that action.
    Davis now briefly explained the current readings, taking as always a grim satisfaction in the fact that even Army Regulations could not make nature disclose its intentions in the same forms to different men at two-hour intervals.
    “General Kane’s people refuse concurrence pending further development, sir. But I think when I bring you the eighteen hundred map….”
    Today Dennis was unusually impatient. He strode to the masking curtain and pulled it back from the Operational map.
    “Show me what you think on this map and keep your mouth shut about what you see,” he said.
    To orient himself, Davis studied the large, conventional 1 × 250,000 military map of England and Northern Europe. He had seldom seen this particular one on which targets were marked before attack. With a start he noted now a new little triangle of three black marks, deep in Germany. One of them had already been crossed through with savage red crayon on the plexiglass covering. It was yesterday’s target; the inference was unmistakable. Humanly Davis had been irritated by his exclusion from any part in Plans except weather itself. He forgot himself in momentary astonishment at the location of those marks. Beside him Haley picked up a piece of red crayon and eyed one of them.
    “Time for an improvement, isn’t it, sir?”
    “Improvement?” the General’s mind was on weather.
    “Colonel Martin said ‘Primary plastered,’ sir.”
    The crayon was touching the plexiglass when the General stopped Haley. He was smiling but his voice was firm.
    “Let’s let Ted do that.”
    “Of course, sir,” said Haley apologetically.
    Davis was ready now and began with an exposition of the prospects along the coastal fringe but Dennis stopped him short.
    “Never mind the coastal fringe. What about here?” His knuckles rapped the little triangle of black marks.
    “My God, sir. Three days running in there?”
    Too late, Davis remembered that he was not a part of Plans. The General did not raise his voice but it bit like a drill.
    “Major, I’m consulting you about the weather.”
    Evans could feel his hackles rise at the General’s tone and was glad those eyes were not on him. For Davis he felt no sympathy. He had sweated out too many of weather’s mistakes to pity a fool who spoke out of turn about troubles that were not his. He saw Davis recoil a little, gather himself, and run through a rapid recital of the available facts and his opinion.
    “I’m not sure Kane’s people will agree, sir, but…”
    “But you yourself think it will be all right in here?”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “And over the bases for landing?”
    “Yes, sir. I’m sure of that.”
    “Bring anything else as you get it.”
    Davis went out, disgruntled. Dennis turned on Haley.
    “Have you anything from Headquarters?”
    This, Evans knew, also meant Kane’s, which was the next step up in the progression. Previously Evans had thought of everything above the headquarters of