Tex Yancey, called “The Flying Fool” by his comrades in the –th Pursuit Squadron of the American Expeditionary Force, entered the mess hall with lips pressed into a thin, mirthless grin that seemed entirely1 inappropriate in one who was thirty minutes late to mess and must therefore make out with what was left. The other members of the squadron had finished their meal and were now engaged in the usual after-dinner practice of spinning some tall yarns2.
Yancey stalked slowly to his place at the long table, but instead of seating himself stood with hands thrust deep into his pockets and with his long, thin legs spread wide apart. For a full minute he stood there, seeming to be mildly interested in the tale that Hank Porter was telling. But those who knew Tex, as did the members of this squadron, knew that the cynical5 smile on his thin lips was but the forerunner6 14of some mirthless thing from which only “The Flying Fool” would be able to wring7 a laugh. His was such a grotesque8 sense of humor; a highly impractical9 practical joke was his idea of a riotous10 time. Someone in the squadron, who had once felt the sting of one of his pranks11, had called him a fool, and another member had responded, “Yeah, he’s a fool, all right–but a flyin’ fool!” The tribute had become a nickname, and Yancey rather reveled in it.
Just now his smile was masking some grim joke and his eyes held the mild light of pity.
“Well, Hank,” he drawled at last, when Porter had wound up his story, “that yarn3, as much as I get of it, would lead the average hombre to pick you out as a sho’ ’nuff flyer. I would myself. Me, I’m easy fooled that way. I reckon all you buckaroos think you know somethin’ about flyin’, eh?”
Standing12 a full six feet two, he looked down upon them, the look of pity still in his eyes in strange conflict with the mirthless smile still on his lips.
“What’s eatin’ you?” Porter growled14. “We can’t help it because you’re late for mess. Where’ve you been?”
Siddons and Hampden, not greatly interested in what they felt was some new strained humor on Yancey’s part, pushed back from the table and started for the door, their objective being the French town of Is Sur Tille.
15Yancey waited until they were near the door before he answered Porter.
“Oh, I’ve just been over to Is Sur Tille havin’ a look-see at this new instructor15 that’s comin’ down here to teach us how to fly.”
Siddons, with his hand upon the door, wheeled abruptly16 and studied Yancey’s face, trying to discover the jest hidden behind that baffling, masking smile.
“Are you joking us?” he demanded from the doorway17, but sufficiently18 convinced to turn back.
The “Flying Fool” smiled sweetly. “Why, Siddons, I wouldn’t kid you-all about that sort o’ thing,” he drawled. “I saw him myself, in town, ridin’ in a car with the C.O. [A] Like as not the Major will bring him in here this evenin’ for a little chin-chin.”
A suppressed growl13 arose from the other pilots.
“What is he coming here for?” young Edouard Fouche demanded, knowing the answer but anxious to have it brought out in the open where it could be attacked and vilified19 by all.
Yancey seated himself, tilted20 his chair back from the table and bestowed21 another sweet smile upon a room filled with scowling22 faces. It was a delicious moment–for Tex.
“Why, he’s comin’ here to teach you poor worms 16how to fly. It seems that someone back in the States made a mistake in thinkin’ we were pilots. We’re here by accident. Ha! Ha! That’s what we are–just accidents. Did you boys think we were sent over here to get all messed up in this little old war? Tut, tut! We’re here just to add grandeur24 to the colorless scenery. Now be nice to this fellow when he comes. Maybe after he has labored25 with us for a while we’ll be turned into ferry pilots and be sent to ferryin’ planes up to the regular guys. I’m so glad I horned in on this scrap26; it’s so well planned and–and thrillin’.“
More growls27. Tex wasn’t being at all funny. Indeed, if this ridiculous story were true, then it was the last straw on the camel’s back. Had they not already suffered enough?
The squadron had been in France for two weeks, an interminable time to the restless group of young airmen who, booted and belted and ready for the fray28, now found themselves suddenly faced with the prospect29 of still more training and when as yet they had not the haziest30 notion of the type of ship that was to be given them for mounts. One rumor31 had it that they were to get American ships powered by a much-talked-of mystery motor. Very well, but where were those ships? Another rumor, equally persistent32, was to the effect that they were to draw French Spads. Very well again, but where were the Spads? 17Still other rumors33 included Camels, Sopwiths, Nieuports and Pups. One rumor, uglier and more maddening than all the others, was to the effect that the entire squadron was to be used in observation work. Fancy that! A pursuit pilot being given a slow-moving observation crate34 with a one-winged, half-baked observer giving orders from the rear cockpit! It was enough to make a man wish he had joined the Marines. What was the good of all their combat training if they were to poke36 around over the front in busses that were meat for any enemy plane that chanced to sight them? It was enough to make a sane37 squadron go crazy, and the –th Pursuit Squadron was known throughout the service as the wildest bunch of thrill chasers ever collected and turned over to a distressed39 and despairing squadron commander.
Some swivel-chair expert must have been dozing40 when the order went through sending them to France. In wash-out records they were the grand champions. They had left behind them a long train of cracked props41, broken wings, stripped landing gears–and a few wrecks43 so complete that the drivers thereof had been sent home in six foot boxes draped with flags. But whatever may be said against them, one thing was certain in their minds and in the minds of all who knew them: They could fly! To them, any old crate that could be influenced to leave the ground was 18a ship, and they were willing to take it up at any time, at any place, and regardless of air conditions. Perhaps their record had been less black had they been given better ships.
A student, seeking a perfect cross-section of American youth, would have found this squadron an interesting specimen44. War drums, beating throughout the land, had summoned them from the four points of the compass. How they had ever been assembled at one field is a problem known only to the white-collared dignitaries who sat in swivel chairs and shuffled46 their service cards. The result of the shuffle47 caused many a commander to tear his hair and declare that the cards had been stacked against him.
No two members of the squadron came from the same town or city; no two of them had the same outlook on life; no two members thoroughly48 understood one another. A Texan, such as Yancey, from the wind-swept Panhandle, may bunk49 with a world-travelled, well educated linguist50, such as Siddons, and may even learn to call him Wart51, but he never thoroughly understands him. A tide-water Virginian, such as Randolph Hampden, of the bluest of blue blood, may sit at mess by the side of a Californian, such as Hank Porter, but he will show no real interest in California climate and will never be able to make the westerner understand that Virginia is American history and not just a state. A nasal-voiced Vermonter, 19such as Nathan Rodd, brought up among stern hills and by sterner parents, will never fully52 understand a soft-voiced Louisianian, such as Edouard Fouche, who has found the world a very pleasant place with but few restrictions53.
Leaving out the question of patriotism54, the members had but three common attributes: They had scornful disregard for any officer in the air service who knew less of flying than they had learned through the medium of hard knocks; they were determined55 from the very beginning to get to France; and they were the most care-free, reckless, adventurous56, devil-may-care bunch of stem-winders that had ever plagued and embarrassed the service by the simple procedure of being gathered into one group.
It may be that the War Department, in despair, at last thought to be rid of them by sending them overseas where their ability and proclivity57 for stirring up trouble could be turned to good account against the enemy. In any case, they were at last in France and from the moment of their landing had been exceedingly voluble in their demands for planes. They wanted action, not delay. And now that Yancey had brought word of this last crushing indignity58, they opened wide the spigots of wrath59, all talked at once, and the sum total of their comments contained no single word that could be considered as complimentary60 to management of the war. More instruction in 20flying! It was unthinkable. But then, perhaps this grim joker, Yancey, was spoofing a bit.
“Come on, Wart,” Hampden called to Siddons from the doorway. “Tex has just been listening to old General Rumor. I’d like right much to see this instructor before I get excited about it. Come on, let’s go into town. The night’s young–and so am I.”
“You’ll get excited when you see him,” Tex responded, sagely61.
“Who is he?” Nathan Rodd asked, which was about as long a sentence as Rodd ever spoke62. He saved words as though they were so much gold.
“He’s an English lieutenant63,” Tex answered. “Red-headed, freckle-faced, and so runty that he’d have to set on a stepladder to see out of a cockpit.”
“A Limey!” chorused half a dozen incredulous, angry voices. “Whatdya know about that!”
Tex nodded solemnly. He was enjoying the situation. Inwardly, he was as furious as any of the others, but he had the happy faculty64 of being able to enjoy mob distress38. “Yeah, a Limey! Some gink in town told me he was a famous ace4. I forget his name. Never could remember names. But you boys’ll love him. Like as not he’ll let some of us solo after a month or so. Ain’t the air service wonderful?”
More growls, and a half dozen muttered threats.
21“Now boys, you-all be good, or Uncle Samuel’ll send you back home and let you work in the shipyards at twenty per day. I’m surprised and hurt that you take this good news in this fashion. I should think you’d be delighted to have a Limey show you how he shot down a few of–”
“Attention!” Hampden called from the doorway, a warning quality in his voice.
The men looked up. There in the doorway stood Major Cowan, and by his side was a neatly65 uniformed, diminutive66 member of the Royal Flying Corps67. The men scrambled68 hastily to their feet. Yancey upset his chair with a clatter69 as he unwound his long, thin legs from around the rungs.
Major Cowan, always maddeningly correct in military courtesies, turned upon Hampden with a withering70 look.
“Lieutenant,” his voice had the edge of a razor but its cut was not so smooth, “do you not know that attention is not called when at mess?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You do, or you do not?”
“Double negatives bother me right much,” Hampden replied, his eyes on the English pilot and caring not a whit45 for court-martial now that he saw in the flesh the proof of Yancey’s report, “but I do know the rule.”
“Then observe it,” Major Cowan responded, testily71. 22“Gentlemen, this is Lieutenant McGee, of the British Royal Flying Corps, who has been assigned to us as flying instructor.”
Lieutenant McGee felt that the room was surcharged with hostility72, and he found himself in the position of one who is ashamed of the acts of another. Major Cowan, altogether too brusque, failed utterly73 to impress McGee, whose service in the Royal Flying Corps had been with a class of men who thought more of deeds than of rank and who could enjoy a care-free camaraderie74 without becoming careless of discipline. Discipline, after all, is never deeper than love and respect, and McGee felt somehow that Cowan was not a man to command either. McGee felt his face coloring, and tried to dispel75 it with a smile.
“I am glad to meet you, gentlemen,” he said, “and I want to correct the Major’s statement. I am not here as a flying instructor, in the strict sense of the word, but to give you, first hand, some of our experiences in formation flying, combat, and patrol work. I dare say you are all well trained. In fact, I have heard some rather flattering reports concerning you.”
Yancey cast a sidelong glance at his neighbor; Siddons nudged Hank Porter. Porter pressed his foot against Fouche’s boot. Not a bad fellow, this. Something like, eh?
Major Cowan was not one who could permit others 23to roll the sweets of flattery under their tongues. He must qualify it with a touch of vinegar.
“Lieutenant McGee is modest concerning his duties,” he said. “In fact, you will find all English officers becomingly modest.”
“But I am not English!” McGee corrected. “I am an American–born in America, and that’s why I have been so happy about this assignment.”
Several members of the squadron began edging nearer. Perhaps things were not going to be so dreadful after all.
“Indeed?” Major Cowan lifted his eyebrows76 in surprise. The points of his nicely trimmed moustache twitched77 nervously78 as he began to wonder just how he should treat an American who happened to be wearing the uniform and insignia of a lieutenant in the R.F.C.
“My parents were English,” McGee decided79 to explain, “but I was born in the States. When the war broke out, my brother, who was older by a few years, came over and joined the balloon corps. I was too young to enlist80, but my parents were both dead and I came along with my brother, remaining in London until–” he hesitated and cleared his voice of a sudden huskiness, “until word came that my brother had been killed. His balloon was shot down while he was up spotting artillery81 fire. Naturally, I began to try to get in. I had to put over a fast one on the examining 24board, but I made it. And here I am at last, with my own countrymen. Top hole, isn’t it?” His smile was so genuine and compelling that none could doubt the sincerity82 of his pleasure. All barriers of restraint were broken down. This chap actually courted conversation.
“Why don’t you get repatriated83, Lieutenant?” Yancey asked.
“The tactless fool!” Hampden thought, but dared not say. Of course the Texas clown would rush in where angels feared to tread. Didn’t the fathead have any conception of pride of uniform and pride in a nation’s accomplishments84? Hampden felt that he would like to hit Yancey with one of the water carafes85.
“What’s that? Repatriated?” McGee repeated. “How can that be done?”
“Haven’t you seen the General Order providing for it?” Tex continued, despite Major Cowan’s silencing frown.
“I’m afraid not,” McGee replied. “I’ve been pretty busy–and I don’t get a great thrill out of G.O.’s. Tell me about it.”
“Well–” Yancey began slowly, enjoying to the fullest the opportunity to provide information uninterrupted, “as you know, a lot of Americans joined the English and French air forces before we came in. Some of ’em, just like you, maybe, had a sort of 25score to settle. But I reckon most of ’em went in because it offered something unusual and a lot of thrills. Huh! You tell ’em! Then when Uncle Sam got warm under the saddle and came hornin’ in, a lot of the boys who’d come over and joined up began castin’ homesick glances back in a westerly direction. Natural-like, Uncle Samuel is willin’ to welcome home all his prodigal86 sons, if he can get ’em back, and he’s specially87 forgivin’ considerin’ that his army at the beginnin’ of hostilities88 is just about one day’s bait on a real war-like front. As for flyers, he hasn’t got enough of ’em, trained, to do observation work for an energetic battery of heavies. So he makes medicine talk with Johnny Bull and with France, and for once he comes out with all the buttons on his trousers. They agree to release all the Americans servin’ under their colors who express a desire to get into O.D. under the Stars and Stripes. ‘Repatriation89’ was the flossy name they gave it, but I call it homesickness. A lot of the wayward sons jumped at it quick, and we’re ’way ahead on the game, any way you look at it. Now take some of those boys in the Lafayette Escadrille. Why, if they–”
Yancey’s voice droned on, but McGee no longer heard what he was saying, though to all appearances he was paying courteous90 attention. But as a matter of fact his eyes were resting upon Lieutenant Siddons, and he was cudgelling his brain in an effort to 26remember where he had seen him before. The blond, curly hair; the rather square face and brow; the thin lips, the calm, cold grey eyes; and the air of self-satisfied assurance, all were part of a memory which was vivid enough but which refused to come out of the back of the mind and associate itself with identifying surroundings. Where had he seen that face? New York? No, not there. He knew very few people in New York. Well, after all, perhaps it was only a strong resemblance. But resembling whom? Surely no one of his acquaintances looked like Siddons, at least none that he could remember.
McGee’s gaze must have been a little too steady, at least enough to prove discomfiting91, for Siddons half turned away and began speaking in whispers to Hampden. He talked out of the corner of his mouth, as one who is ashamed of the words he utters, and McGee felt the stirrings of a faint dislike for him.
Yancey reached the end of his monologue92. The moment of silence that followed brought McGee sharply back to the present. He smiled graciously at the Texan.
“That’s quite interesting,” he said. “Strange I missed that order, and stranger still that no one mentioned it to me. But we’ve been pretty busy up in the Ypres salient–too busy to think much about what flag we were fighting under. I’ve enjoyed being with the English, but of course ‘there’s no place like 27home’. I’m very happy to be assigned here, and I am glad Major Cowan gave me this chance to meet you. The Major tells me that you are to get several new Spads in the next two or three days. Until that time, I won’t disturb you. I’m driving back into town. Anyone want a lift?”
“Thank you, Lieutenant,” Hampden spoke up, “Siddons and I are going in. Have you room?”
“Certainly. Glad to have you along. Major Cowan, how about you?”
“Sorry,” the Major replied, dourly93, “but I have to pay the price of command by poring over a lot of detail work which would be spared me if I had a more efficient staff.”
Mullins, the peppery little Operations Officer, felt the full force of the sting but he passed it off by winking94 wisely at Yancey. Why worry? Cowan was always looking for work and for trouble. He was never so happy as when bawling95 someone out.
McGee felt sorry for Mullins and sorrier still for Cowan. One with half an eye could see that Cowan was about as popular with his command as would be a case of smallpox96. McGee had been trained in an atmosphere where discipline was a matter of example rather than a matter of fear, and as a result had always known a sort of good-fellowship which he felt instinctively97 would be impossible with such a commander as Cowan.
28“I’m sorry you can’t come with us, Major,” McGee said in a voice that carried no conviction. “However, I must toddle98 along.” He turned to Siddons and Hampden. “Ready? Right-O!”
During the short motor trip into Is Sur Tille, McGee’s curiosity finally got the better of his natural dislike for admitting that his memory had failed him. “I think I have met you somewhere before, Lieutenant,” he said to Siddons.
“Yes? I do not remember it,” Siddons replied, with the air of one who is making no great draft upon his own memory. He himself evidently sensed the lack of courtesy, for he added, “New York, perhaps. Have you been around New York much?”
“No, I haven’t. Somewhere else–”
Lieutenant Hampden’s mellow99 laugh interrupted.
“Siddons has the idea that one never meets anyone outside of New York,” he said. “He’s terribly provincial100, Lieutenant. He thinks there are only two places in the world–New York and everywhere else.”
Siddons displayed no resentment101 at the taunt102; he seemed quite well satisfied with the opinion expressed. In fact, he appeared quite satisfied with everything–especially with himself.
McGee wondered how a likeable chap, such as Hampden, could choose as companion one so utterly different in manner, in ideas, and in speech. But 29then, war brings together strange bedfellows and establishes new standards. McGee dismissed the matter from his mind as the car swung into the narrow streets of the darkened town.
“Where can I drop you?” he asked.
“Going by the café down on the main drag?” Hampden asked.
“Right.”
“That will be fine. I hope to see you again soon, Lieutenant.”
“Thanks. The Spads are due to arrive on Monday. That’s three days. See you then. Well, here we are,” as the car swung in to the curb104 in front of the café. The shutters105 were closed, no light came from any of the stores or houses along the street, but from behind the closed door of the café came the sound of voices and laughter mixed with the metallic106 banging of a very old piano beating out tuneless accompaniment to a bull-voiced singer roaring through the many verses of “Hinkey Dinkey Parlez Vous”.
“The Yank Marine35 went over the top,
Parlez Vous,
The Yank Marine went over the top,
Parlez Vous,
The Yank Marine went over the top
And gave old Fritz a whale of a pop,
Hinkey Dinkey, Parlez Vous.”
McGee smiled as he sat for a moment listening to 30the words. All his service had been with the English, who of course had composed many songs highly complimentary to themselves, and only in the last few days had he come in contact with the forerunners107 of the mighty108 American army now pouring into French harbors from every arriving boat.
“Quite a fellow–this Yank Marine,” he said to Siddons.
Siddons nodded, rather stiffly. “So it seems. Though he hasn’t been over the top yet. Prophecy, I suppose.” He stepped from the car to the curb with the bearing of one accustomed to being delivered in a chauffeur-driven car.
McGee was on the point of calling out, “When shall I call, sir?” but at that moment noticed young Hampden’s genuine smile and heard him voicing words of appreciation109 for the lift.
“Don’t mention it,” McGee said. “It was a pleasure. Cheerio! old man!”
“There,” he thought, sinking back in the tonneau. “I said ‘old man’. Singular case, and that lets Siddons out rather neatly. Hum. I’ll bet a cookie he knows more about flying than I do–or anyone else, for that matter. Well, we’ll see. I wonder what sort of outfit110 Buzz drew.”
Lieutenant “Buzz” Larkin was closer to McGee than any person in the world. Close bonds of friendship had been formed while they were in training in 31Cadet Brigade Headquarters, at Hastings, England. During their months of service together in the Royal Air Force, on exceedingly hot fronts, those bonds of friendship had become bands of steel, holding them together almost as firmly as blood ties. Both were Americans, but the motives111 back of their entrance into the R.F.C. were as widely divergent as possible. Larkin, the son of a wealthy manufacturer, had never disclosed the real reason for his entrance into a foreign service. Perhaps he sought adventure. McGee, however, made no secret of the motives back of his entrance. When word reached him that his brother had been killed while doing observation work in a captive balloon, young McGee, not yet eighteen, employed a trick (which he thought justified) to gain entrance to the Air Force. He felt that he must carry on an unfinished work, and few will find fault with him if his actions were motivated by a slight spirit of revenge. After all, blood is thicker than water.
Whatever the motives of the two youths, once in the uniform of cadet flyers, the spirit of service seized them. Side by side, encouraging, entreating112, helping113 and driving one another they plugged through their training with their eyes fixed114 upon the coveted115 reward of every air service cadet–a pair of silvered wings!
Together they had won their wings; together they 32had gone to the front; together they had gone out on patrol, high above the lines, and met the enemy. Thereafter, the fortune of one was the fortune of both. Each had saved the other’s life, the culminating tie in their friendship, if indeed their friendship needed any further tie.
Both had become aces23, though in combat work McGee was easily the superior. This, however, he constantly denied and was forever admiring Larkin’s work. Larkin, if inferior to McGee in a dog fight, was better disciplined. He could go up in formation, keep his eye on his flight commander, obey orders, and keep his head when he saw an enemy plane. McGee, on the contrary, went as wild as a berserker the moment he laid eyes on a plane bearing the black cross. Orders were forgotten and he dived, throttle116 wide open, stick far forward, every thought gone from his mind but the one compelling urge to get that other plane on the inside of his ring sight. McGee had his personal faults, but he was a faultless flyer. The same may be said of Larkin, for men in aerial combat never make but one vital mistake. Those who become aces have no great faults; those with great faults become mere117 tallies118 for the aces. Now and then, of course, the grim scorer nods during the game and a fault goes unpenalized, but as a rule it can be said that a man who can become an ace may well be called a faultless flyer, for an ace is one 33who has rolled up a score of five victories against those whose skill was less than his own. Of course, there is the element of luck to be considered, for luck and skill must go hand in hand when youths go jousting119 in the clouds. But luck can only attend the skillful. With skill wanting, luck soon deserts.
Beyond doubt both McGee and Larkin had enjoyed a full measure of luck, and were still enjoying it. For example, wasn’t it luck that had sent them both down here on the French front to act as instructors120 to newly arriving American squadrons? Wasn’t it luck that they were still billeted together in the lovely old chateau121 at the edge of town, and could look forward to many, many more days together?
These latter thoughts were running through McGee’s mind as his car swung under the trees lining122 the drive that led up to the chateau. Why, but for luck both of them might now be pushing up the daisies instead of being happily, and comparatively safely ensconced in such comfortable quarters. No more dawn patrols–for a while at least; no more soggy breakfasts–with comrades missing who banteringly breakfasted with you twenty-four short hours ago.
McGee’s thoughts took unconscious vocal123 form as he stepped from the car. “Lucky? I’ll say we are!”
“What did you say, sir?” asked the driver.
The question snapped McGee back to earth.
“I was complimenting myself upon some very narrow 34escapes, Martins, but I’ll repeat–for your benefit. You are a very lucky boy.”
Martins blinked. He held opposite views. “You think so, sir? I’ve gotta different idea. I wanted to be a pilot, like you, sir, and here I am toolin’ this old bus around France with never a chance to get off the ground unless I run off an embankment. And this old wreck42 is no bird.”
“So you really wanted to be a pilot, Martins?”
“I sure did, sir.”
“Um-m. That’s why I said you were a very lucky young man. I know the names of a lot of young fellows who wanted to become pilots–and did. But they’ve gone West now and their names are on wooden crosses. Hoe your own row, Martins, and thank the Lord for small favors.”
“Yes, sir,” aloud, and under his breath, “It’s easy enough for them that has wings.”
“How’s that, Martins?” McGee asked, rather enjoying himself.
Martins fidgeted with the gear shift. “I said I had always wanted a pair of wings, sir.”
“Well, be a good boy and maybe you’ll get them–in the next world. Good night, Martins.”
“’Night–sir.” Gurrr! went the clashing gears as the car got under way with a lurch124 that spoke volumes for the driver. It was tough to be held to the ground by a wingless motor.
35McGee caught a gleam of light through the shutters of the upstairs windows. So Larkin was back already? He took the front steps in a jump and raced up the stairs in a manner most unbecoming to a First Lieutenant with a score of victories to his credit.
“What kind of an outfit did you draw, Buzz?” he demanded as he burst into the room.
Larkin was buried behind a Paris edition of the Tribune, his legs sprawled125 out into the middle of the floor where the heel of one boot balanced precariously126 on the toe of the other.
“Oh, so-so,” never bothering to look from behind his paper. Phlegmatic127 old Buzz, McGee thought, what was the use of getting excited over an instructor’s job?
“Are they good?” McGee asked.
“Um. Dunno.” Still reading.
“Mine are great!” McGee enthused. “Stiff, crusty young C.O., who needs a couple of crashes–one fatal, maybe–but the rest of them are fine. Great bunch of pilots.”
“Yeah?” Still reading, but doubtful. “See any of ’em fly?”
“No-o,” slowly, “of course not.”
“Um-m. Well, wait until they begin sticking the noses of those new Spads in the ground, and then tell me about ’em. They’ve been trained on settin’ hens. Wait until they mount a hawk128.”
36McGee jerked a pillow from the bed and sent it crashing through the concealing129 paper. “Old killjoy! If a man gave you a diamond you’d try it on glass to see if it was real.”
Larkin began rearranging his crumpled130 paper. “Well, why not? If it wasn’t real I wouldn’t want it. And I wish you’d keep your pillows out of my theatrical131 news. I was just reading about a play at the Folies Bergeres, called ‘Zig Zag’. They say it’s a scream. By the way, Shrimp132, how’d you like to fly to Paris to-morrow morning and give it the once over?”
“Fine, but–”
“But nothing! We can see it to-morrow night and be back the next day. That fine bunch of pilots of yours can’t get off the ground until the Spads get here–and maybe not then.”
“See here!” McGee challenged stoutly133. “I’ll bet you anything you like that those boys–”
“Will all be aces in a month,” Larkin completed, knowing the extent and warmth of McGee’s habitual134 enthusiasm. “All right, Shrimp, so be it. But what has that to do with the show? Want to go?”
“Sure. But what about passes? I don’t know just who we are answerable to down here, in the matter of privileges and so forth135. I’ve been sort of lost for the last few days.”
Larkin shoved his hand into his inside blouse 37pocket and brought forth two folded papers which he displayed proudly.
“Here are the passes–all jake! Marked official business and authorizing136 fuel and supplies, if needed. I’m a great little fixer. And about that question of not knowing who you are answerable to, don’t forget that it’s little Johnny Bull–capital J and B. You’re liable to get jerked off this detail so quick you’ll leave toothbrush and pajamas137 behind. Every morning now when I wake up and remember that I don’t have to go out on dawn patrol I start pinching myself to see if I’m awake. Boy, in this game it’s here to-day and gone to-morrow. Wasn’t it old Omar who handed out that gag, ‘Ah, make the most of what we yet may spend, before we too into the dust descend’?... Yeah? Well, he must have written that for war pilots. The minute J.B. finds out how comfortable we are down here we’ll be recalled and sent to chasing Huns back across the line. In fact, I think we’re both asleep and having nice dreams.”
“That reminds me,” McGee said, drawing up a chair and sitting gingerly on the edge after the manner of one about to indulge in confidential138 disclosures. “Have you heard anything of this repatriation business?”
“Sure. Haven’t you?”
“Not a word.”
“Where have you been? It came down in a G.O.”
38McGee scratched his head. “So I’ve just learned, but it’s the first I’ve heard of it. Funny you didn’t mention it to me.”
Larkin eyed him curiously139. “Well,” slowly, “I knew you were English and–”
“But I’m not, and you know it!” McGee flared140.
“Calm, brother, calm! I mean, I knew your father and mother were English, and so was your brother.”
“But I was born in America. I’m just as much of an American as you are!”
“Calm, brother, calm! No one says you are not. But because of your family nationality, I supposed you would want to finish out the string with the R.F.C. and,” he reached over and tousled McGee’s mop of flaming red hair, “I’m just fool enough to want to stick around where you are–you little shrimp! So I thought I wouldn’t bring up the subject.”
McGee gave him a look of deep understanding and appreciation.
“Fact is,” Larkin went on, “I just got a letter from Dad the other day and he seems to be pretty hot under the collar because I haven’t made any move to get repatriated.”
“Why haven’t you?”
“You poor nut! I’ve just told you.”
“No you haven’t, Buzz. There is some reason deeper than that.”
39Larkin fingered his newspaper nervously and tried to simulate an interest in some news note. He hated to display sentiment, yet the fates had given him a double burden of it. As a matter of honest fact, he was as sentimental141 as a woman, and was forever trying to hide the fact behind a thin veneer142 of nonchalance143 and bluster144.
“Did you see this communique from our old front?” he asked, trying to shift the subject. “They’re having some hot fighting up there.”
“Yes, I know. Things look pretty dark for the English. But answer my question: What is the real reason why you haven’t thought of getting transferred into the United States forces?”
“I didn’t say I hadn’t thought of it,” Larkin avoided. “Maybe I didn’t want to trade horses in the middle of the stream.”
“Any other reason?”
“Well, hang it all! a fellow builds up some pride in the uniform he wears. A good many of our buddies145 have gone out for their last ride in this uniform and–and it stands for a lot. Of course I am proud of my own country, and sometimes I feel a little strange in this uniform now that my own country is in the war, but it isn’t a thing you can put on or take off just as the spirit moves you. It becomes a part of you. Say! What’s eatin’ you, anyway? Are you anxious to change uniforms?”
40“Um-m. I’m not so sure. I like that bunch I met over there to-night.”
“Yes, and they are all afoot. The truth is, our own country hasn’t enough combat planes to send out a patrol. They are developing some mystery motor, I hear, but I’m not very keen about trying out any mystery motors. Our Camels are mystery enough to suit me. When I’m up against the ceiling with a fast flying Albatross or tri-plane Fokker on my tail, I don’t want any mysteries to handle. No, Red, for the time being I guess I’m satisfied. Besides, they might chuck me in the infantry146, and I have a horror of having things drop on me from overhead. Let’s to bed, old topper, so we can hop103 off early in the morning. The sooner we start the sooner we get to ‘Gay Paree’. Besides, early to bed and early to rise makes a man ready to challenge the skies. How’s that for impromptu147 poetry?”
“Rotten! Omar and Ben Franklin both in one evening!” McGee yawned as he began pulling at a boot. “But it makes me sleepy. Go on, say me some more pretty pieces. Or maybe you’d like to sing me to sleep.”
[A]
For definitions of military and aeronautical148 terms, as well as certain slang peculiar149 to army life, see glossary150 at the back of the book.
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1
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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yarns
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| n.纱( yarn的名词复数 )；纱线；奇闻漫谈；旅行轶事 | |
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yarn
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| n.纱，纱线，纺线；奇闻漫谈，旅行轶事 | |
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ace
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| n.A牌；发球得分；佼佼者；adj.杰出的 | |
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cynical
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| adj.(对人性或动机)怀疑的，不信世道向善的 | |
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forerunner
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| n.前身，先驱（者），预兆，祖先 | |
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wring
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| n.扭绞；v.拧，绞出，扭 | |
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grotesque
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| adj.怪诞的，丑陋的；n.怪诞的图案，怪人（物） | |
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impractical
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| adj.不现实的，不实用的，不切实际的 | |
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riotous
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| adj.骚乱的；狂欢的 | |
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pranks
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| n.玩笑，恶作剧( prank的名词复数 ) | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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growl
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| v.（狗等）嗥叫，（炮等）轰鸣；n.嗥叫，轰鸣 | |
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growled
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| v.（动物）发狺狺声， （雷）作隆隆声( growl的过去式和过去分词 )；低声咆哮着说 | |
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instructor
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| n.指导者，教员，教练 | |
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abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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vilified
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| v.中伤，诽谤( vilify的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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tilted
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| v. 倾斜的 | |
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bestowed
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| 赠给，授予( bestow的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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scowling
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| 怒视，生气地皱眉( scowl的现在分词 ) | |
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aces
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| abbr.adjustable convertible-rate equity security (units) 可调节的股本证券兑换率；aircraft ejection seat 飞机弹射座椅；automatic control evaluation simulator 自动控制评估模拟器n.擅长…的人( ace的名词复数 )；精于…的人；（ 网球 ）（对手接不到发球的）发球得分；爱司球 | |
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24
grandeur
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| n.伟大，崇高，宏伟，庄严，豪华 | |
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labored
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| adj.吃力的，谨慎的v.努力争取(for)( labor的过去式和过去分词 )；苦干；详细分析；（指引擎）缓慢而困难地运转 | |
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26
scrap
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| n.碎片；废料；v.废弃，报废 | |
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growls
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| v.（动物）发狺狺声， （雷）作隆隆声( growl的第三人称单数 )；低声咆哮着说 | |
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28
fray
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| v.争吵；打斗；磨损，磨破；n.吵架；打斗 | |
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prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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haziest
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| 有薄雾的( hazy的最高级 )； 模糊的； 不清楚的； 糊涂的 | |
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31
rumor
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| n.谣言，谣传，传说 | |
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persistent
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| adj.坚持不懈的，执意的；持续的 | |
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rumors
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| n.传闻( rumor的名词复数 )；[古]名誉；咕哝；[古]喧嚷v.传闻( rumor的第三人称单数 )；[古]名誉；咕哝；[古]喧嚷 | |
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34
crate
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| vt.(up)把…装入箱中；n.板条箱，装货箱 | |
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35
marine
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| adj.海的；海生的；航海的；海事的；n.水兵 | |
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36
poke
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| n.刺，戳，袋；vt.拨开，刺，戳；vi.戳，刺，捅，搜索，伸出，行动散慢 | |
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37
sane
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| adj.心智健全的，神志清醒的，明智的，稳健的 | |
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38
distress
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| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
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39
distressed
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| 痛苦的 | |
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40
dozing
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| v.打瞌睡,假寐 n.瞌睡 | |
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41
props
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| 小道具； 支柱( prop的名词复数 )； 支持者； 道具； （橄榄球中的）支柱前锋 | |
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42
wreck
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| n.失事，遇难；沉船；vt.(船等)失事，遇难 | |
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43
wrecks
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| n.沉船( wreck的名词复数 )；（事故中）遭严重毁坏的汽车（或飞机等）；（身体或精神上）受到严重损伤的人；状况非常糟糕的车辆（或建筑物等）v.毁坏[毁灭]某物( wreck的第三人称单数 )；使（船舶）失事，使遇难，使下沉 | |
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44
specimen
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| n.样本，标本 | |
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45
whit
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| n.一点，丝毫 | |
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46
shuffled
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| v.洗（纸牌）( shuffle的过去式和过去分词 )；拖着脚步走；粗心地做；摆脱尘世的烦恼 | |
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47
shuffle
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| n.拖著脚走，洗纸牌；v.拖曳，慢吞吞地走 | |
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48
thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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49
bunk
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| n.(车、船等倚壁而设的)铺位；废话 | |
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50
linguist
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| n.语言学家；精通数种外国语言者 | |
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51
wart
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| n.疣，肉赘；瑕疵 | |
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52
fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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53
restrictions
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| 约束( restriction的名词复数 )； 管制； 制约因素； 带限制性的条件（或规则） | |
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54
patriotism
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| n.爱国精神，爱国心，爱国主义 | |
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55
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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56
adventurous
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| adj.爱冒险的；惊心动魄的，惊险的，刺激的 | |
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57
proclivity
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| n.倾向，癖性 | |
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58
indignity
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| n.侮辱，伤害尊严，轻蔑 | |
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59
wrath
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| n.愤怒，愤慨，暴怒 | |
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60
complimentary
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| adj.赠送的，免费的，赞美的，恭维的 | |
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61
sagely
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| adv. 贤能地，贤明地 | |
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62
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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63
lieutenant
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| n.陆军中尉，海军上尉；代理官员，副职官员 | |
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64
faculty
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| n.才能；学院，系；(学院或系的)全体教学人员 | |
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65
neatly
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| adv.整洁地，干净地，灵巧地，熟练地 | |
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66
diminutive
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| adj.小巧可爱的，小的 | |
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67
corps
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| n.(通信等兵种的)部队；(同类作的)一组 | |
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68
scrambled
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| v.快速爬行( scramble的过去式和过去分词 )；攀登；争夺；（军事飞机）紧急起飞 | |
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69
clatter
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| v./n.(使)发出连续而清脆的撞击声 | |
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70
withering
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| 使人畏缩的，使人害羞的，使人难堪的 | |
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71
testily
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| adv. 易怒地, 暴躁地 | |
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72
hostility
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| n.敌对，敌意；抵制［pl.］交战，战争 | |
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73
utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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74
camaraderie
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| n.同志之爱，友情 | |
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75
dispel
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| vt.驱走，驱散，消除 | |
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76
eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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77
twitched
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| vt.& vi.（使）抽动，（使）颤动（twitch的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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78
nervously
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| adv.神情激动地，不安地 | |
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79
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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80
enlist
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| vt.谋取(支持等)，赢得；征募；vi.入伍 | |
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81
artillery
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| n.(军)火炮，大炮；炮兵(部队) | |
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82
sincerity
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| n.真诚，诚意；真实 | |
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83
repatriated
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| v.把（某人）遣送回国，遣返( repatriate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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84
accomplishments
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| n.造诣；完成( accomplishment的名词复数 )；技能；成绩；成就 | |
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85
carafes
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| n.玻璃水瓶（或酒瓶）( carafe的名词复数 ) | |
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86
prodigal
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| adj.浪费的，挥霍的，放荡的 | |
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87
specially
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| adv.特定地；特殊地；明确地 | |
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88
hostilities
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| n.战争；敌意(hostility的复数)；敌对状态；战事 | |
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89
repatriation
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| n.遣送回国，归国 | |
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90
courteous
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| adj.彬彬有礼的，客气的 | |
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91
discomfiting
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| v.使为难( discomfit的现在分词 )；使狼狈；使挫折；挫败 | |
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92
monologue
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| n.长篇大论，（戏剧等中的）独白 | |
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93
dourly
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94
winking
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| n.瞬眼，目语v.使眼色( wink的现在分词 )；递眼色（表示友好或高兴等）；（指光）闪烁；闪亮 | |
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95
bawling
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| v.大叫，大喊( bawl的现在分词 )；放声大哭；大声叫出；叫卖（货物） | |
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96
smallpox
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| n.天花 | |
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97
instinctively
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| adv.本能地 | |
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98
toddle
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| v.（如小孩）蹒跚学步 | |
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99
mellow
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| adj.柔和的；熟透的；v.变柔和；(使)成熟 | |
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100
provincial
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| adj.省的，地方的；n．外省人，乡下人 | |
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101
resentment
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| n.怨愤，忿恨 | |
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102
taunt
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| n.辱骂，嘲弄；v.嘲弄 | |
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103
hop
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| n.单脚跳，跳跃；vi.单脚跳，跳跃；着手做某事；vt.跳跃，跃过 | |
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104
curb
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| n.场外证券市场，场外交易；vt.制止，抑制 | |
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105
shutters
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| 百叶窗( shutter的名词复数 )； （照相机的）快门 | |
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106
metallic
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| adj.金属的；金属制的；含金属的；产金属的；像金属的 | |
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107
forerunners
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| n.先驱( forerunner的名词复数 )；开路人；先兆；前兆 | |
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108
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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109
appreciation
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| n.评价；欣赏；感谢；领会，理解；价格上涨 | |
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110
outfit
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| n.（为特殊用途的）全套装备，全套服装 | |
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111
motives
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| n.动机，目的( motive的名词复数 ) | |
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112
entreating
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| 恳求，乞求( entreat的现在分词 ) | |
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113
helping
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| n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的，辅助的 | |
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114
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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115
coveted
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| adj.令人垂涎的；垂涎的，梦寐以求的v.贪求，觊觎(covet的过去分词)；垂涎；贪图 | |
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116
throttle
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| n.节流阀，节气阀，喉咙；v.扼喉咙，使窒息，压 | |
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117
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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118
tallies
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| n.账( tally的名词复数 )；符合；（计数的）签；标签v.计算，清点( tally的第三人称单数 )；加标签（或标记）于；（使）符合；（使）吻合 | |
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119
jousting
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| （骑士）骑马用长矛比武( joust的现在分词 ) | |
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instructors
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| 指导者，教师( instructor的名词复数 ) | |
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121
chateau
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| n.城堡，别墅 | |
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122
lining
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| n.衬里，衬料 | |
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123
vocal
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| adj.直言不讳的；嗓音的；n.[pl.]声乐节目 | |
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124
lurch
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| n.突然向前或旁边倒；v.蹒跚而行 | |
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125
sprawled
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| v.伸开四肢坐[躺]( sprawl的过去式和过去分词)；蔓延；杂乱无序地拓展；四肢伸展坐着（或躺着） | |
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126
precariously
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| adv.不安全地；危险地；碰机会地；不稳定地 | |
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127
phlegmatic
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| adj.冷静的，冷淡的，冷漠的，无活力的 | |
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128
hawk
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| n.鹰，骗子；鹰派成员 | |
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129
concealing
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，遮住( conceal的现在分词 ) | |
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130
crumpled
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| adj. 弯扭的, 变皱的 动词crumple的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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131
theatrical
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| adj.剧场的，演戏的；做戏似的，做作的 | |
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132
shrimp
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| n.虾，小虾；矮小的人 | |
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133
stoutly
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| adv.牢固地，粗壮的 | |
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134
habitual
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| adj.习惯性的；通常的，惯常的 | |
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135
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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136
authorizing
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| 授权，批准，委托( authorize的现在分词 ) | |
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137
pajamas
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| n.睡衣裤 | |
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138
confidential
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| adj.秘（机）密的，表示信任的，担任机密工作的 | |
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139
curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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140
Flared
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| adj. 端部张开的, 爆发的, 加宽的, 漏斗式的 动词flare的过去式和过去分词 | |
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141
sentimental
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| adj.多愁善感的，感伤的 | |
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142
veneer
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| n.(墙上的)饰面，虚饰 | |
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143
nonchalance
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| n.冷淡，漠不关心 | |
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144
bluster
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| v.猛刮；怒冲冲的说；n.吓唬，怒号；狂风声 | |
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145
buddies
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| n.密友( buddy的名词复数 )；同伴；弟兄；（用于称呼男子，常带怒气）家伙v.（如密友、战友、伙伴、弟兄般）交往( buddy的第三人称单数 )；做朋友；亲近（…）；伴护艾滋病人 | |
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146
infantry
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| n.[总称]步兵(部队) | |
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147
impromptu
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| adj.即席的，即兴的；adv.即兴的(地)，无准备的(地) | |
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148
aeronautical
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| adj.航空（学）的 | |
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149
peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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150
glossary
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| n.注释词表；术语汇编 | |
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