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Show the clouds had rolled down from Siberia, hanging low over the peaks, drenching the gardens, making the roads a morass. And every day the Detachments had looked out their windows, longing for release from dripping eaves and high board fences streaked with rain. Then it cleared off. The clouds disappeared, fleeing over the hills, and a clear golden sun came out. Within an hour the phones were busy, and in the excitement someone grew bold enough to ask the Major for the Nissan-maru, the ferry (leased from the Japanese) that carried the men to and from Taira, where they went each day to work. "What'll you do with it?" asked the Major, trying by the gruffness of his voice to sound harsher than he was. "Get away from Oji." It was Louise Wilson, wife of the exec. She had been chosen because she was the prettiest of the Detachment wivas, and the one most likely to make a dent in the Major's not-really-impregnable armor- "Have a picnic." "Whereabouts?" "Oh" - sha ranged about for possibilities - "someplace nice. With a beach; off the beaten path." "Near here? You're dreaming." "It's hard, all right." However remote from the major centers like Tokyo or Kyoto, Oji was still in Japan, where the only relief from steep mountains were narrow valleys crowded with people. "I know" - as the idea downed, excitement quickened her voice - "Takahama. It's lovely. Sandy beach, not many |