The Wait

It was eight o’clock.

Another moment or two and the phone would ring.

The last time he was in this position he was not at all sure whether the phone would ring.

That was the time when the third battalion had messed up the fortnightly exercise and not only lost their bearings, but failed to find a telephone box before the motor pool had shut down for the night.

It had been a bad business. The Colonel had said so; therefore it was so.

The phone continued to not ring.

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