The Flying Cavalier

by Gilbert, Morris

  Disguise fair nature with hard-favoure’d rage.”

  Lewis had a thoughtful look in his eyes as he closed the book with his finger, marking the place. “That’s about the best advice I can think of.”

  “What does all that mean, Professor?” Malone asked. “I’m a dolt. You’ll have to explain it to me.”

  “Well, it says there are two kinds of behavior. In peace a man should be still and quiet, but,” he added, “when he goes to war, according to Shakespeare, he imitates the action of the tiger.”

  “I get that one,” Pug Hardeston grinned. “Throw all our nice manners out. I never heard of a tiger begging the pardon of a lamb before he ate it.”

  “That’s about what Shakespeare says, Pug,” Lewis nodded. “That last line, ‘We disguise fair nature with hard-favoure’d rage,’ means we have to put aside the politeness of civilization. As you put it, you can’t kill someone in a nice way.”

  At that moment the door opened, and Logan Smith came out. His face was pale, and he said nothing but walked out of the building with stiff-legged steps.

  All the pilots turned to look as Lance Winslow came out. His face was stern, and he said, “Lieutenant Smith is grounded for three days, and I want what he’s done to be a lesson to all of you! He broke formation.”

  Although their commanding officer was obviously angered, Clive Bentley uttered a mild protest. “But, Captain, he shot down two planes. Doesn’t that count for something?”

  “He shot down two planes, and you all might have gotten shot down because of his recklessness! Can’t I get it across to you that our safety lies in close formation flying!”

  Bentley closed his lips. He disagreed thoroughly with close formation flying, as did most of the other pilots, but that was the policy of the squadron, and Captain Lance Winslow made the policy. He shrugged and listened as Winslow outlined the next mission. But he was thinking, I wish Winslow were a little more flexible. He thinks he’s right, but I’m not sure about it. The least we could do is give Cowboy’s idea an honest try.

  ****

  Logan was angry to the bone. He said nothing to anyone, not even to Rev, who tried halfheartedly to console him by saying, “Well, you need a few days off, Logan. Maybe we can work out a few things on the mechanical side of the plane.”

  Logan had not answered. He had said practically nothing to anyone all that day or the next. When the mission flew away, he stood watching them, his face hard and his eyes unforgiving.

  The next day was much the same. Copper Jennings took the liberty of saying to Lance, “You know, Captain, I think it wouldn’t be out of order to give in a little bit on Smith.”

  “In what way?”

  “Well, after all, he is a fine pilot. Maybe the best in the squadron except for you, sir.”

  “And I want to keep him that way. I want to keep him alive,” Lance said tightly. “I want to keep all of you alive, Copper. Can’t you understand that?”

  “Sure, I can understand that, Captain. But some of us are going to die. After all, he’s proved something, hasn’t he?”

  “He’s proved he’s a great pilot. I’m not convinced he’s got the right battle tactics. He’s new at this. I’ll tell you what, Copper. He has the fastest reactions of any man I’ve ever seen. That’s what’s saved him so far. When he got jumped by those two Jerries, they should have shot him out of the sky. If they had come for any of the rest of us, I don’t think we’d be here to talk about it.”

  “But doesn’t that count for something?”

  “It means he has to march with the rest of us. We can’t have half a squadron flying according to one battle tactic, the other half flying to another,” Lance snapped. “You should see that, Copper! You see the need for discipline! You’ve been a policeman. You know it better than anyone—or should.”

  “Yes, sir. I can see that. And I’ll give you this. It’s his quickness that saved him. But he’s turning sour. I’d hate to see that happen.”

  “He’ll just have to accept that he’s one of a squadron, not some knight on a white horse.” The image had stayed with Lance Winslow. He thought of it often. “He’s a flying cavalier, or thinks he is. Riding off to meet the enemy, but it’s not like it was in those days of chivalry. It’s not man on man anymore. It’s squadron against squadron, army against army. We have to fight as a team.”

  “Yes, sir. As you say.”

  ****

  “Hey, Cowboy, look at this!”

  Lieutenant Harold Holmes, his baby face alive with excitement and eyes wide open, rushed into the recreation room, where most of the pilots were gathered. Holmes stood in front of them holding a piece of paper. “Did you hear that plane fly over?”

  “Yeah, we heard it,” Pug Hardeston said. “What about it?”

  “Well, it was a Jerry.” Holmes saw instantly that he had their attention. “And he dropped this out of the plane right onto the field. It was in this can and had a red streamer tied to it so we couldn’t miss it. It’s a letter for you, Cowboy.”

  Logan had never learned to like the name Cowboy, but it was a term of affection, so he accepted it. He was startled by what Holmes had said. Taking the paper, he opened it and read the message written in a bold hand.

  “This letter is to the pilot who shot down two of my comrades yesterday. I do not know his name, but I trust that this letter will be passed to him.

  You are a fine pilot, but I think I am a better one. The deaths of my comrades have grieved me exceedingly.

  I propose to meet you in single combat tomorrow at dawn. I will be flying over Sector G alone and challenge you to meet me.

  You cannot win this war, and I fight for the honor of my fatherland. If you have any courage at all, you will be at Sector G tomorrow at dawn.

  Lieutenant Hans Macher”

  As the exclamations ran around the room, Copper stepped forward, saying, “Let me see that, Cowboy.” He read it and said, “Hans Macher. He’s shot down thirty of our fellows the last I heard.” He handed the letter back and shook his head. “What does he think this is, some kind of a game?”

  “What are you going to do?” Sailor Malone asked.

  Logan stared at Sailor and said, “I’m grounded.”

  “Well, I’m not,” Sailor said. “Let me go meet him.”

  “Now wait a minute! None of you are going to meet anybody.” The pilots all looked up to see Lance, who had stepped into the rec room in time to hear the message read. “Copper’s right. This is not some kind of a game.”

  “But, Captain,” Logan said. “He’ll think I’m a coward.”

  “Let him think what he wants! You know more about your courage than he does. No one is to have a rendezvous with Hans Macher. They say he is as good a flier as Richthofen, or Boelcke. Those are orders. No one-on-one combat.”

  The pilots all had to see the message, and it was Pug Hardeston who shook his head. “I’ll tell you what we ought to do. We ought to send the whole flight up there. Get high in the sun, and when this Hun comes along, we ought to blast him out of the sky.”

  “Well, that wouldn’t be fair,” Harold Holmes said. He was shocked at the idea. “That wouldn’t be our style at all!”

  “Our style,” Pug grunted, “is to kill Germans! It wouldn’t bother me a bit.”

  “Me neither,” Malone said. “What about you, Professor?”

  “Well, I must admit that it goes against the grain for an Englishman to take unfair advantage, but the Germans started this war. Several times my flight has caught a bomber limping along at low speed. We didn’t have any compunction then. We just lit on him and blew him out of the sky.”

  “But this is a little different, isn’t it, Professor?” Harold Holmes insisted. “I mean it’s like a man-to-man challenge.”

  Logan listened as the men talked and finally left the room. He was aware they were watching him closely, and he thought, They’ll think I’m a coward if I don’t go. He went to the hangar and showed the challenge to Rev, who studied it an
d then looked up at Logan.

  “What did the captain say?”

  “He ordered me not to go, or anybody else.”

  “The captain’s pretty sharp. I’ve heard of this Hans Macher. The Germans think he’s going to be the biggest Ace in the war.”

  Logan leaned over and stroked the side of the Nieuport with an odd expression on his face.

  “You’re not thinking about meeting this Macher, are you?”

  Logan still did not answer. He turned and walked away without saying a word.

  Why, he means to do it! Rev thought with astonishment. The thought disturbed him greatly, and he spent the rest of the day hoping against hope that it would not happen.

  Rev wasn’t the only one wondering what his friend was going to do. The pilots were making bets as to whether Cowboy Smith would disobey Lance Winslow’s orders and go out to meet the German in combat. The day passed slowly, and at dawn the next morning the rest of the men took off on a mission.

  Before he left, Lance came to stand before Logan, saying, “You know your orders, Logan.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Lance bit his lip. “I don’t want to be hard about this, but all other considerations aside, it would be suicide. That fellow’s a killer. Probably the best flier the Germans have.” He waited for a reply, but Logan said nothing. “Well, we’ll talk about it when I get back. I know we disagree on tactics, but we’re in the same squadron. I’d like to learn to walk a little bit closer.”

  “Yes, sir,” Logan said quietly. Winslow ran to his plane and climbed in. Logan stood and watched as the planes took off and disappeared into the east.

  Walking slowly back toward the hangar, he knew what he was going to do. He had made up his mind from the moment he saw that challenge that somehow he was going to meet Hans Macher. He knew also that disobeying Winslow’s orders might get him thrown out of the RFC, but Logan Smith was a stubborn young man. He had been thrown by the same horse four times running in rodeos. The horse’s name had been Dynamite, and he had been a wild bronc. Dynamite had broken up more than one rider, and Logan’s dad, Lobo Smith, had said, “This may be the one you have to give up on, son. We all have to give up once in a while.”

  But Logan had not given up and had finally succeeded in riding Dynamite to a standstill. As he walked along the edge of the field, he remembered how he had felt when he had come off Dynamite’s back, having beaten him at last.

  He was thinking about meeting Macher and what tactic he might use when he heard a voice calling his name. He turned to see Danielle and was shocked. When she came up to him, he saw that she was wearing her nurse’s uniform under a light jacket. “What are you doing out here?” he said.

  “I came by to tell Lance that Gabby’s not feeling well. We had to have the doctor come see her.”

  “Is it serious?”

  “No. Just a cold.” Danielle looked up at Logan and studied his face for a moment. She saw the tension written there and said, “I just heard from Revelation about the challenge from Macher.”

  “He’s pretty sure of himself.”

  “You’re not going to do it, are you, Logan?”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “But you could be killed!”

  “That’s a chance I take every time I go up.”

  “No. It’s not like that! You know he’s there!” Danielle cried. She found herself shaken by the emotion that swept through her, and now without thinking, she put her hand on his chest and struck him slightly. “Don’t do it, Logan. Please don’t do it!”

  Logan was shocked at the intensity of her emotions. She was watching him closely, her eyes wide spaced, and there was a fire in them. He knew she had a temper, for he had seen it, swinging from one extreme to the other. He also knew she had a capacity for emotion he had never found in any other woman. He felt drawn to her beauty and strength as she pleaded with him not to go.

  “I’ve got to do it.”

  “Even if I ask you not to?”

  “I have to do it, Dani.” He saw an expression on her face he could not understand, and then asked, “Would you care if I went?”

  “Yes. I would care.” She suddenly threw her arms around him and put her head down on his chest.

  Stunned, Logan held her. He felt her trembling and said nothing.

  Finally she drew back and studied his face for a moment. “You’re going to do it anyway, aren’t you?”

  “It’s something I have to do.” He leaned forward and kissed her, and she did not resist. Her lips were soft and tremulous beneath his own. Then he stepped back and said. “I’ve got to go.”

  Dani watched him as he turned and half ran to the hangar. She seemed to be paralyzed, and she could not understand her own emotions. What she was feeling for Logan was something that shook her to the very center of her being. She had put her hopes in Lance Winslow for so long, and now somehow this American had come out of nowhere. She had not known the depth of her feelings for Logan until Revelation had told her what was going to happen, and she had suddenly found herself trembling and afraid. She stood there until she saw Logan climb into his Nieuport as Revelation threw the propeller. Then she watched as the Nieuport bumped across the ground and rose into the early morning sky.

  ****

  The roar of the engine always thrilled Logan. He eased the Nieuport along, his eyes searching the horizon. Somehow he thought that Hans Macher would come flying from the east. He looked in that direction constantly. It was an hour past dawn now, and his lips were tight as he considered what he was doing.

  Macher is not going to be like the others I shot down, he thought. He’s got to be quick and smart, and he’s flying a better plane than I have. He started to pray and then suddenly discovered he could not. This disturbed him, but he had no time to think, for at that very moment he suddenly heard the sound of machine gun fire. Startled, he saw a line of holes appear in his right wing. Twisting around he saw a flight of five Fokkers that had come out of the sun, all headed for him at full speed.

  He lied! He said he’d be here alone!

  But he had no time to think otherwise, for now they were on him like a pack of wolves upon a wounded deer. He knew he had been hit. Suddenly his engine began to cough, and he smelled the fumes. He threw the plane into the steepest dive he could, dodging and weaving while he still had power. He went down so low that he could see the startled expression on the face of a farmer. He pulled out just in time and glanced up to see the formation of Fokkers circling over him, watching him.

  And then his engine quit dead. He saw the fumes gather and knew what that meant.

  “She’s going to blow up! It always happens that way, they say.” As soon as the gasoline fumes begin to flow, the next moment the plane would explode into a fireball.

  Logan had made up his mind before that if his plane ever caught on fire he would jump. Better to strike the ground than to be burned alive. He had a normal fear of fire, and now he knew there was no choice as he saw the flames licking ahead of him at the engine. The explosion could come at any moment.

  He removed his safety belt. None of the pilots carried parachutes. Some idiot had decided that it would make them less courageous and that they wouldn’t fight until the last bullet.

  He moved his feet up to the seat and crouched there, keeping one hand on the stick, although it did little good. Suddenly ahead of him he spotted blue water.

  A lake, he thought. My only chance! It was a small lake, and he timed it as best as he could as he came down low over the water. As the Nieuport suddenly began to burst into flames, he leaped over the side. As he plummeted through space, he thought, It’s death. I’ve had it. Then he struck the water feet first. It stunned him and the force of his fall drove him under water some fifteen feet. He struggled and came to the top just in time to see the Nieuport burst into a thousand pieces. A red explosion seared his eyeballs, and he knew he had barely escaped death this time.

  ****

  When Lance returned from his flight, he disc
overed at once what had happened. He was shocked at first, and then disappointed. He saw Danielle with her head down and her shoulders slumped, and he went to her at once.

  Danielle had not left the field after Logan had taken off. She could not bring herself to go to the hospital for work. She was still there when the flight came back.

  “Did you know about this, Dani?” he asked, trying hard to control his temper.

  “I tried to keep him from going.”

  “He was foolish! Macher is deadly.”

  Danielle could not answer. “Are you going to send someone out for him?” she asked.

  “No,” Lance said. “He’ll either come back or he’ll be dead.”

  It was two hours later that a message came over the radio. Lance went to Danielle at once, saying, “His plane went down. It burst into flames.”

  “Is there any hope, Lance?”

  He saw the pain in her eyes and shook his head. “Not much, I’m afraid. He didn’t have a parachute, of course. If he was unable to make a safe landing, he’s gone, Dani. I’m sorry.”

  Tears filled Danielle’s eyes, and suddenly Lance was startled by the intensity of her emotions. “I didn’t know you cared that much about him.”

  “Neither did I.”

  ****

  The pilots were subdued at the news of Logan’s crash. They had all learned to like Cowboy Smith, and they kept casting glances at Danielle, who was walking alongside the field staring off at the horizon. She had been there all morning and all afternoon awaiting some kind of word.

  “She might as well go home. He’s had it,” Sailor said. “I hate to hear it. He was a good kid for an American.”

  “Yes, he was,” Cecil Lewis said sadly.

  Lance watched out of his office window for some time. He was grieved over the loss of Logan Smith. He had great potential, he thought. Even as he was thinking this and watching Danielle out the window, he suddenly saw a farmer’s truck approaching. He paid little attention, for the farmers often brought produce in, but then the truck stopped at the edge of the airfield, and he stiffened.

  “My soul, it’s Logan!” he exclaimed.

  Danielle had seen the truck stop, and as soon as she saw the pilot get out, she let out a cry and ran to him. Logan caught sight of her and ran forward.