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No combat experience, better with logistics than people.”
    “Come on, Novak. Wait and form your own opinion.”
    “Don’t worry. You know I’ll give the man a chance.” Jack circled the chair, relishing the feel of moving muscles. “Besides, I can work with anybody. Just have to figure out the best approach with my men.” If Castle proved unpopular, Jack’s job would be more challenging, to enforce policy yet maintain high morale.
    Jack clasped his hands overhead and stretched his arms high. Felt good. “How’s Babcock handling my squadron?”
    Charlie laughed, and the cigarette wiggled in his mouth. “You can’t stand having someone else in your position, can you?”
    “As long as he knows it’s temporary.”
    More laughter. “Temporary in our squadron, but Castle will give him another, guaranteed. Of the four squadron commanders, we’ve already lost two, plus you in the hospital. And Babcock’s kept up morale even though the 94th has lost sixteen planes on nine missions.”
    Jack swung his arms behind him for a stretch. “He’s that good?”
    “Yeah.” Amusement crinkled Charlie’s round face. “He’s a good pilot and a born leader. You know his dad’s in the House of Representatives.”
    Jack grumbled and plodded around Charlie’s feet. “No, I didn’t know that.”
    “Ever hear of ‘Baby-Face’ Babcock?”
    “Hothead from Indiana?”
    “Illinois.”
    “‘Baby-Face’ Babcock? He looks nothing like him.” How could a pastor from the California backwaters compete for a promotion with a Washington politician? “A politician. Oh boy.”
    “Don’t worry. You’ll get your squadron back. Besides, he’s good but not as good as you.”
    Jack smiled. As always, the bombardier had perfect aim. “Taking lessons from the politician?”
    “Got to survive this war somehow.”
    “And I’ve got to get back in.” Jack lowered himself into the wheelchair. “And for that I need good nursing care. Get me home, Skipper.”
    “Hey, that’s my line.” Charlie nudged the chair over the crest of the ridge and let it pick up speed downhill. Jack whooped as they raced down the walkway to Ward Seven.
    When they returned, Ruth and Lieutenant Jensen stood chatting over a clipboard at the far end of the hut. Ruth must have just gotten back from her break. Now he could introduce Charlie to Lieutenant Jensen. Jack eased himself to his feet, caught her eye, and waved her over. Her gaze bounced from him to Charlie and back, and she held up one hand. Later. That meant never.
    “Boy, the nurses here are a skittish bunch,” Jack said.
    “I have that effect on women.” Charlie shook Jack’s hand in parting.
    After Charlie left, Jack grunted his way into bed and leaned back against the tubular metal headboard. He gritted himself against the discomfort, but he liked to watch Ruth work. He chuckled. A patient falling for a nurse had to be the oldest cliché in the book.
    Since he’d told her of his plan to visit on Sundays, her behavior had changed. Sure, she’d come by soon and perform her routine, but in a crisp manner. Then she’d chat with the other patients, everyone but him. Hours would pass until he could coax her into conversation.
    Maybe she’d figured out he’d fallen for her. But why would that bother her? Crushes never fazed her. Or maybe she was falling for him.
    Jack grinned and pulled a book from his bedside table to make himself look busy. Yeah, that would faze her, she who never dated.
    “You’re in a good mood, Major.” Ruth stood at the foot of his bed, clipboard clutched to her chest.
    Sure would be nice to hear her call him Jack. He put his book back on the table. “Had a nice visit with Charlie, and Dr. Hoffman says I’ll be released next week.”
    “You must be glad.”
    “Wish it had been earlier so I could have seen Walt before he went home, but yeah, I’m glad. How about you? Gonna miss me?” He dropped her a wink.
    “Immensely,” she said with a roll of her eyes.