“Do you have anything against armour?”
“Yes. Most of the people inside of it. It makes men into bullies which is the first step toward cowardice; true cowardice I mean. Perhaps it is a little complicated by claustrophobia.”
Then he looked at her and smiled and regretted taking her beyond her depth, as you might take a new swimmer on a shallow, shelving beach, into too deep water; and he sought to reassure her.
“You forgive me, Daughter. Much of what I say is unjust. But it is truer than the things that you will read in Generals’ memoirs. After a man gets one star, or more, the truth becomes as difficult for him to attain as the Holy Grail was in our ancestors’ time.”
“But you were a general officer.”
“Not for too damn long,” the Colonel said. “Now Captains,” the General said, “they know the exact truth and they can mostly tell it to you. If they can’t, you reclassify them.”
“Would you reclassify me if I lied?”
“It would depend on what you lied about.”
“I’m not going to lie about anything. I don’t want to be reclassified. It sounds horrible.”
“It is,” the Colonel said. “And you send them back to have it done to them with eleven different copies of why it should be done, every one of which you sign.”
“Did you reclassify many?”
“Plenty.”
The concierge came into the room with the portrait,
