He had learned his trade well and quickly. He had not flown any combat yet, but he knew that challenge was coming soon. The war was grinding on as huge armies met each other in the fields with steel bayonets. The trenches now stretched all the way from Switzerland near Basel to the North Sea. On both sides the enemies lined up to their knees in mud, and men died like flies of disease, quicker even than from the enemy’s bullets.
This particular aerodrome, like most of the others, was in a semipermanent condition. It was set down near the town with one or two major roads passing through it. Recently, the flying field had been covered with tarmac, a mixture of tar and macadam. Such strips were easily patched when they were bombed by the enemy. The hangars were scattered randomly over the landscape, plain, homely wooden structures with corrugated iron roofs. Each hangar had room for a dozen machines, and each was a beehive of activity.
Three mechanics were usually assigned to each plane, and they worked over them as grooms worked over fine thorough-breds. Mechanics were filthy with oil stains, their hands black with grime. The squadron had from twenty to twenty-four planes, depending on how many were shot down or had been damaged in a battle.
The living quarters were primitive, and even such a thing as a hot shower or bath became a luxury. Most of the officers spent their spare hours on the base at a lounge, drinking themselves past good sense. They fled the aerodrome whenever possible, vying over passes to Paris, and came back, as often as not, half carried in, for drunkenness was a common problem among the pilots. Whether legally obtained or otherwise, brandy and whiskey were always available. Many of the men were suffering from battle fatigue, although no one called it that, and the alcohol made it worse.
Things turned for the better for Logan when on August 15 Revelation Brown showed up. He suddenly appeared in the hangar where Logan was talking with several of the mechanics about a problem he had encountered with the ailerons. The first Logan sensed of him was when he heard Rev’s voice, saying, “Hey, partner, I’m here! We can get on with the war now!”
“Rev!” Logan ran toward him, and dropping his bags, Rev engaged in a wrestling bear hug, and the two men waltzed over the greasy floor of the hangar. The other mechanics looked on with a grin, for officers did not greet their mechanics with such enthusiasm.
“Fellas, I want you to meet Revelation Brown. Better known as Rev. I want you to make him feel at home.”
Rev went around to half a dozen mechanics getting their names and inquiring as to the spiritual condition of each one. After the first “Are you saved?” the others tried to shy away, but Rev was outgoing and obviously delighted to find out about each man’s spiritual condition.
“Actually,” Logan said, “I doubt if any of them’s got any religion at all except working on airplanes and drinking all the French wine they can get a hold of.”
“Ah now, Lieutenant. Don’t give us that,” Max Sutherland said. He was a fine mechanic in his own right and worked primarily on Copper Jennings’ Nieuport. “You can come to church with me. We’ve got a good one. The preacher’s a hot number.”
“Sounds good to me, partner,” Rev said. Then they all turned, for Captain Lance Winslow had entered the room.
“Captain, this is Private Revelation Brown. I’ve told you all about him.”
“How do you do, Brown?” Lance nodded. “If you’re half as good as the lieutenant says, I’ll love you like a brother. Have you worked on Nieuports before?”
“No, but I know rotary engines pretty good, Captain,” Revelation said. “Give me a day or two to take one apart, and I’ll see what I can do.” He added without a breath, “Are you washed in the blood of the Lamb, Captain?”
Lance could not restrain the smile that came to his lips. He had already been warned by Logan of Rev’s peculiar methods of evangelism.
“As a matter of fact, I am,” he said. “Sometimes I don’t live like it, but I’ve been a Christian for quite a while.”
“First rate, sir! Now, give me one of these planes to work on, and I’ll get acquainted with it.”
“Well, of course, you’ll be Lieutenant Smith’s master mechanic. After all, you two are old friends.”
A few days later Sutherland told the captain, “He’s a wizard, sir. I never saw anything like it.” He shook his head in admiration. “It’s almost like he just waves his hand, and those engines just open up to him. Never saw anything like it in my life.”
“Good! We need all the help we can get.”
****
By the time Revelation had settled down and ascertained the spiritual condition of every man on the base, he had also mastered the engines of the Nieuports and every other part of the aircraft. He seemed perfectly happy, and he and Logan had many long talks about the States and what was happening there and the men and planes of the Fourteenth Squadron.
“What do you think of the captain, Logan?” Rev asked. He had pulled an engine apart and now was oiling all of the segments, holding them lovingly in his enormous hands. “Is he a pretty hot pilot?”
“Yes, he is. About the best I’ve ever seen,” Logan said.
“He seems like kind of a hard case. Why is that?”
Logan shifted. He did not like to talk about his superior officer, but after all, Rev was his old friend. “He’s got problems, Rev. He lost his wife in a bombing raid, and he’s got a burning hatred for Germans. That’s all he thinks about, killing Germans.”
“Well, that’s one way to look at it. That’s what he’s here for, isn’t it?”
“I know, but it controls his whole life. He’s got a fine daughter, but he hardly ever goes to see her. His wife’s family lives in town. They think a lot of the captain, but I think he’s got such a bug about revenge that he doesn’t treat his in-laws squarely.”
“That’s pretty bad news. Do the men like him?” Rev asked as he reached for a wrench.
“I think they’re afraid of him in a way. He’s cold to them. Doesn’t have any real friends. Of course, maybe that’s the way it should be with a squadron commander.”
“Well, I’ll pray for the captain and for you, too. Have you shot at any Germans yet?”
“I haven’t got a sniff of one. Captain Winslow’s been keeping me pretty close to the base here doing maneuvers. He’s strong on formation flying.” Logan shifted uncomfortably and stared at Revelation. “I think it’s foolishness.”
“Well, planes have to stay together, don’t they?”
“Well, this is different from just staying together. He wants us to fly so that our wing tips are practically touching. You know what that means?”
“Have to pay pretty close attention to what you’re doing or you’ll smash up with your buddy.”
“Exactly right. So I’m busy looking at Copper on my left and Pug Hardeston on my right. How can I watch for Jerries overhead and do that at the same time?”
“What does the captain say about it?”
“He says the squadron leader will look for the enemy, but that doesn’t make sense. Better that twelve men look than just one set of eyes.”
“You talk to the captain about this?”
“Who me? I’m the new kid on the block. He wouldn’t listen to anything I had to say. Anyway, it seems foolish to me.”
“How would you do it?”
“Spread out where there’s no danger of crashing into one another. That way all three men in our flight could be looking for the Jerries to pounce down on us.”
The very next day Logan was once again frustrated as the squadron was practicing flying in formation. His flight leader, Copper Jennings, was on his left, while Pug Hardeston was on his right. They had left for a somewhat longer reconnaissance flight than was necessary, and Copper had said, “I’ll look out for the Jerries. You fellas keep an eye down on the ground. See if you can make anything out of the troop movements.”
The sun was high in the air, and as his engine roared and wind whipped past his ears, Logan had all he could do to keep formation with his two c
omrades. They had been flying for thirty minutes when suddenly, without warning, he saw a hole suddenly appear in his windshield. It spattered in front of him, and without thinking, he hauled back on the stick. Then he heard the sound of gunfire. As he rolled upward and over, he saw three German fighter planes had come out of the sun and attacked his flight from the rear. Desperately he tried to remember the instructions, but his mind seemed to be a blank. Every movement was by instinct. He did remember one bit of advice that Hardeston had given him. “If you’re going to take evasive action, turn left, not right. The Germans will be expecting you to turn right, which is the way a right-handed man will turn.”
Wrenching his stick and kicking at the pedals, he twisted the Nieuport into the tightest left turn possible. He saw the German Fokker as it shot past him, and as he completed his turn, he suddenly was on the tail of the plane that was going for Hardeston. He quickly aimed the plane and loosed a stream of bullets, the first time he had fired in combat. The tracers fell in behind the plane and he made an adjustment, watching the white streamers as they hit the tail of the Fokker. He saw the bullets go up the fuselage. The pilot suddenly lunged forward, then slumped down. The Fokker nose-dived, and with a yell he did not know he was uttering, Logan followed him down. He loosed more shots and saw some hit the engine, which burst into flame immediately.
Suddenly reason came back to him. He looked around and saw that the other two Germans had fled. He did not see Pug Hardeston or Copper Jennings for a moment, and then he saw them coming back. They had taken evasive action. He wiggled his wings, and Hardeston and Jennings motioned toward the base.
As they flew along, Logan found himself trembling. He had been in some fistfights before, but now he had seen his bullets tear into the enemy, and then a sickening feeling came over him as he watched the plane crash and burst into a fiery inferno far below.
I’ve killed a man.
The thought shook him, and he could not control the trembling of his hands.
Even when he landed, he was unsteady. He got out of the plane and found himself suddenly picked up off the ground by Pug, who was a muscular man.
“You got him! You got him!” Pug yelled.
“You sure did!” Copper grinned. “That one’s confirmed. You done for that Jerry.”
The three went hurriedly into the headquarters, where they excitedly gave the report of their mission to Captain Winslow.
“And you all saw the plane go down?”
“Yes, sir!” Copper and Pug said enthusiastically.
“You know, sometimes we think we’ve shot somebody down. They go down low and then they limp on in. I’ve done the same thing myself. I’m sure I’ve been claimed as a victory by some of the Germans.”
“Not this one, sir.” Copper shook his head definitely. “We saw him plow right into the ground. It blew up like an oil tank. It’s a kill, all right.”
“Well then,” Winslow said. “Congratulations. That’s your first.” He studied Logan’s face and found something there that troubled him. “Feeling a little bit queasy?”
“Well, yes, sir. I guess I am.”
“Natural enough. You’ll get over it. By the time you’ve done it twenty times, it’ll just be another job.”
Logan did not answer. He was still seeing the German’s body slump as his bullets tore into it. “It wasn’t like I thought it would be,” he said.
“It never is, but you’ve been blooded now. There’s one less of the Huns to kill.”
As always, the squadron was excited when anyone made a kill, and Logan had been accepted by all of the men. Jerold Spencer, the ex-steeplechase jockey, said, “I got a poem I learned.”
A groan went up, but Logan said, “I’d like to hear it.”
Clearing his throat, Spencer quoted, amid much laughter, a well-known poem.
“Beneath a busted Camel, its former pilot lay:
His throat was cut by the bracing wire, the tank had hit his head,
And coughing a shower of dental work, these parting words he said:
Oh I’m going to a better land, they binge there every night,
The cocktails grow on bushes, so everyone stays tight,
They’ve torn up all the calendars, they busted all the clocks,
And little drops of whiskey come tinkling down the rocks,
The pilot breathed these last few gasps before he passed away;
I’ll tell you how it happened, my flippers didn’t stay,
The motor wouldn’t hit at all, the struts were far too few,
A shot went through the petrol tank and let it all leak through.
Oh I’m going to a better land, where motors always run,
Where the eggnog grows on the eggplant, and the pilots grow.
They’ve got no Sops, they got no Spads, they got DH-4s,
And the little frosted juleps are served at all the stores.”
Laughter went up, and Logan said, “My heart is really touched, Spencer.”
The celebration went on, and finally Cecil Lewis came to stand beside Logan. He had not taken much of a part in the celebration, and he had seen that Logan was forcing his laughter.
“Not feeling so good,” he said. “Well, that’s natural. I remember when I got my first one. I threw up everything I had.”
“It’s what we’re here for,” Logan said quietly, “but I keep thinking about what he looked like.”
“Yes. And you keep thinking it might be you.”
Surprise washed across Logan’s face. “Do we all feel the same way?”
“We’d be fools if we didn’t.”
“How am I going to get over it?” Logan said. “You think it’ll have any effect when I go back up again? Will I back off? Chicken out?”
“You can’t do that,” Lewis said. “We’ve all got to do our job, and that’s what our job happens to be. The captain was pleased, I suppose.”
“Well, yes. Of course he was.”
“You know, after the war’s over, I don’t know what Captain Winslow will do. He’s got one passion now, and that’s killing Germans. That’ll be against the law after the war. What will he do then?”
“Well, I guess he’ll do like the rest of us. He’ll go back to business.”
Lewis shook his head slowly. “I hope so, but some men take it harder than others.” He was smoking a pipe, and now he sent a purple wreath of smoke into the air. “I’m worried about the captain. A man needs something besides killing Germans in his heart.”
****
That night at the Laurents’ for dinner, Lance spoke of Logan’s victory. “He got his first German today, a Fokker. From what I understand from his flight commander, he has reactions like nothing human.”
“Did he get hurt?” Danielle asked quickly.
“No. A bullet went right past his head and out his windshield. Hardeston said he never saw anyone react so quickly, and that’s good. It probably saved his life. Maybe the other two men, too. They got caught napping.” He sat there thinking about it for a while, then said, “It was a near miss, but he made it all right this time.”
Later on, after Gabby had been put to bed despite her many protests, Lance had come downstairs to stand silently in the center of the parlor. He thought he was alone and suddenly started when he saw Danielle sitting in the shadows in a winged chair. “Oh, I didn’t know you were here, Dani.”
“Did she go to sleep?”
“Oh yes. She was very tired.”
“Did you tell her a story?”
“She asked for one, but I couldn’t think of any except ‘The Three Little Pigs.’ Not a very exciting story.”
Danielle rose from the chair and came over to stand beside him. The room was semidark with only one small lamp lit. The rest of the family had gone to bed, and the silence seemed to hang over the room.
“It’s not what story it is. It’s just hearing one. I’m glad you told her that one.”
Lance felt uncomfortable. He often did with Danielle and did not know wh
y. Now he stood looking down at her and saw that she seemed troubled. “What’s the matter?” he asked. “Something wrong?”
“No. Why do you ask?”
She was wearing a light green dress, and her hair was done up in a different fashion he had never seen before, a twist at the back that gave her a fashionable look. She was not usually one, he thought, to experiment with new fashions. Now he grew more concerned. “There is something wrong. I can see it in your eyes.”
“It’s nothing.”
“Come. You can tell me.” He reached out suddenly and took one of her hands and held it in both of his. It was warm and soft and felt very strong. “Come on. Just think of me as your older brother.”
“You’re not my brother!” she snapped.
The vehemence of Danielle’s reply caused Lance to blink. “Well, of course not, actually, but I’ve always felt that way. Anyway, you have problems I might not be able to fix, but I can listen.”
He was still holding her hand, and Danielle was very conscious of it. His hands were beautifully shaped. She had always thought so and loved them, and now he held her hand tightly, unaware, perhaps, of the pressure he was putting on her. Suddenly without meaning to, she reached up and put her hand on his cheek. It was a gesture of trust and something she had often longed to do. She leaned closer to him and whispered, “Oh, Lance, I’m so mixed up!” She suddenly leaned over against him.
Taken completely by surprise, Lance put his free arm around her and felt her begin to tremble. “Why, Dani!” he stammered. “What is it?”
But she could not answer. The pressure of his arms about her, light as it was, had stirred her, for it was something she had often dreamed about. Now his hand was holding hers, his other arm around her, and held in a half embrace. She suddenly felt herself unable to control her emotions. This was unusual, for Danielle Laurent was a strong woman. All the feelings she had tried to ignore suddenly loosed in her, and as she looked up at him tears brimmed in her eyes. She tried to speak, and her lips were soft and vulnerable and trembled.
The Flying Cavalier Page 24