“Major Toshi,” he said. “I am so very lonely. Sometimes I think I’ll never find a woman to love me.”

“I believe there is someone for everyone,” I said, although I doubted he’d find his ideal woman in a war zone surrounded only by male soldiers. But he needed a boost to his morale and I decided it was worth being just a tad dishonest in order to achieve that aim. At the market there was one plain Lao woman who had no nose. A feral dog had bitten it off when she was a child. What remained of the nostrils had scarred over. Consequently, she had no sense of smell. This, I decided, would be a good start for anyone getting to know Ukabane. For the next stage I trusted my instinct and the power of translation.

“This is Warrant Officer Ukabane,” I said to the market woman. Her name was Moot.

Lao market women can be very direct and rude in a charming way so I anticipated her response.

“Did the bus come off as badly as him?” she asked.

“She says she’s noticed you around,” I translated for Ukabane.

“She has a very unpleasant face,” said Ukabane, who was also cursed with the affliction of honesty.

“Warrant Officer Ukabane says you remind him of a famous actress who is very popular in Japan,” I told her. “He thinks you have a very nice smile.”

Her cheeks became rosy.

“He must be blind as well as ugly,” she said.

“She says you look very muscular,” I translated. “The type of man who would protect his woman.”

Ukabane pulled in his stomach and looked away. I assumed this gesture was to afford the woman a view of his good side although neither profile would win a prize.

“She’s in bad shape,” he said. “Obviously never done any physical labor in her life.”

“Ukabane says your figure would inflame the desire in any red-blooded man,” I told her. “He can’t keep his eyes off your divine bosom.”

“You tell him to take his beady eyes off my chest right this minute,” she said. But her expression was more of flattery than offense.

“She says she loves listening to your voice,” I lied. “So masculine and forceful. She could listen to you speak all night.”

“All that in such a short sentence?” asked Ukabane.

“Lao is a very economical language,” I said.

“What are you two talking about?” asked Moot.

“He . . . No, never mind.”

“Tell me.”

“No,” I said. “It’s out of the question.”

She glared at me.

“All right,” I said. “He was asking what chance there might be of you accompanying him to a coffee shop one morning. Perhaps somewhere with a view of the river?”

“All that in one short sentence?”

“Japanese is an economical language,” I said.

“Tell him I’d sooner get rabies and be burned alive,” she said. But she said it with a smile and an eyelash flutter. I turned to Ukabane.