Six Sentence Sunday #3

Continuing directly on from last week's post, I give you the next snippet from Help in Ages Past.

The commander in chief of the United forces reached up and slowly removed his glasses, placing them on the table gently. He reached into his right hand breast pocket and pulled out a handkerchief, employing it as a mop in the heat of the complex that was Pivot; even the air-con didn’t help anymore. He gradually lowered his other hand – the one holding the missive – to the table, reached behind him for a chair, and sat down on it heavily.

Slowly he looked at those standing around the strategy holo ... all of his top men, waiting for his word. They knew how this would end; had always known. Ever since that fateful day when ... but he would not think of that now.