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mail stacked neatly beside his place mat. |
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''You look quite fine this morning, Colonel," Flora offered. It was her way of trying to make conversation. "Did you have a good time last night?" |
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Driver assumed the question was based on interest rather than prying; after all, she was his housekeeper, nothing more. |
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The Colonel grunted and shrugged his shoulders. Now in his sixth year of an extended tour of duty at Pepperell, he had picked up lots of Newfie habits; shrugging his shoulders and grunting were some of them. To the people of the island province, it was an entirely acceptable response. |
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Harry Preston Driver, like so many of his counterparts in the Air Weather Service, was on a fast track to military career oblivion. After 48 summers, 22 in the Air Force, he had the rank, but he was still pulling second-rate duty assignments in out of the way corners of the world. Now it was Newfoundland, the Northeast Air Weather Command and a stint as Commander of the Eighth Weather Squadron, an assignment so small that he could count his detachments on one handthree in Greenland, one at Goose Bay and one at Torbay. Only now, with world-wide attention focused on the International Geophysical Year, could he even lay claim to being involved with the area's isolated duty stations. |
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