He grinned mirthlessly at his own joke, then shook his head.
“Enough of that, though. I’ve got to start concentrating on the fencing match tonight. It’s going to be our last chance to pull the Army’s chestnuts, not to mention our own reputation, out of the fire.”
“Do you think there might be a problem, sir?” The master sergeant frowned. “I mean, we do have Corbin on our side.”
“Yes, we do.” O’Donnel nodded. “But that’s only one bout out of three. After this afternoon, I wouldn’t bet the rent money that those clowns are going to hand us the other two on a platter.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Journal #130
It is doubtful that you have ever attended a fencing tournament unless you are directly involved in the sport, either as a participant or through some emotional or professional relationship with a fencer. This is due to the simple fact that fencing is not a spectator sport, the action being far too fast and subtle for the uneducated eye. (It might be of interest to note that fencing is one of the few sports where the competitors pay a fee, but the spectators get in for free.)
Usually such an event is held in a large gymnasium or field house, with anywhere from six to several dozen “strips” laid out. The competitors are divided into groups or “pools” and fence each person within their pool. The top two or three advance to the next round, where they are reassigned to new pools and the process begins again. The bulk of those attending are in the competition area, consisting almost entirely of competitors and coaches, while a smattering of spectators made up of friends and parents of the competitors loll about in the bleachers getting bored. Only the final bouts generate much interest, but even then there are few spectators, most competitors packing their equipment and leaving as soon as they are eliminated.