Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1930-05-11

and hangers Of the 18th Squadron. His eyes
were downcast; his spirit was downcast, too.
Lieut.. Reynolds had complained that q
cartridge was damned past the ejector In his
left Vickers gun. Lieut.. Boone was the squadron
machine gun officer, a ground man, o XVII
The sound that came to one at Belrain was
the constant muffied drumming like Summer
thunder, of the guns in the north. From the
air Belrain was a plateau between wooded
ravines, four clusters of hangers, like mush-
room clusters, a road on one SIDE and barracks,
headquarters huts, mess halls along the road.
But Glenn Boone did not see Belrain from
the air. No embroidered wings were spread
upon his breast. He was a ground officer, a
kiwi. So there was brooding in his dark eyes
and his shoulders dropped as he crossed the
field
At the operations tent Reynolds hailed him.
Reynolds had downed Fokker two days be-
fore and it had changed him. "Hey! Did you
look at that gun? If the thing jams again I'm
going to put on Martins"
Boone got ON all right with all the pilots, ex-
cept perhaps two One Of the two, George Dun
can, he got on with better than all right. It
was Just an unmeant manner which in their
young pride all the pilots used in talking to q
kiwi. None Of the others seemed to mind the
doctor, the engineering officer, the personnel
fellow. They all just went ahead with their
jobs and didn't mind. Boone reached B-hanger,
chanted In quarters: 1--WE don't have to fight
like the infantry-like the artillery-like the
cavalry-We don't have to fly over Germany
We are the Kee-wee-wee-"
The flags were back on B-hangar and crews
were rolling single-seater fighting planes out on
the line. B-f1ight was putting up high patrol
at three.
A bit of knowing how fixed Reynolds gun
and Boone went along the line Of Spads, their
propellerS turning slowly as the engines warmed.
That new man, Harper, who had come up as
replacement when Meadows and Towne went
down, was IN his cockpit. Boone knew that
Harper - he was nothing but a kid was
scared to death. Hello there. Going over this
trip? Guns all right"
A few trips over, a dog fight or two, and that
boy would be q cool, dangerous fighter. Boone
had seen the type before. Couldn't be towards
and get even this far. But now young Harper
stared back at him with almost sightless eyes.
He made an effort to unlock his teeth to reply.
But no words came.
Boone climbed the step. "Look here, boy"
he said, your belt drums are loose. You can't
take this ship over. I'll tell the captain"
mol" The boy finally got his teeth apart.
mo- Boone. You did that for me yesterday.
It's NO use. I'm going-Ill-Ill get over it.
Just-let me alone"
But Boone fingered and talked about Spads,
the way of a Spad with Fokker on its tail,
and climbing spirals which were hard to hit
and how to dive out. "Put her nose down and
drop Harper-n you're hit, or it's too thick.
Ride her right down to the tree tops"
At the operations tent Boone met Jerry
Westcott, the fight leader. 81 see you're taking
Harper over for his initiation this afternoon.
Good day for the ceiling, isn't ftp"
"Oh, it's all right. don't see why they
always stick these green kids in B-flight any
way"
Well I'd keep an eye on Harper"
''Oh, would you?" Westcott's smile carried
the rest of his meaning. Thanks for the adj
vice."