The Tacoma times. [volume] (Tacoma, Wash.) 1903-1949, 1941-10-11
A YANK In
THE R. A. F.
By HARLAN THOMAS

snapped or the tcnt. Inc Geo vas
empty. Il hadn't been slept IN. He
looked al il. puzzled. then gradu-
ally COMPOUNDED. He wheeled and
went out
In the living room. Roger was
waiting with his best eNpectsnt
air. His face fell as he saw Tim
appear alone.
She's not there" Tim said.
She's probably taking a bath
I'll see
The bathroom door was open.
Tim advanced toward II. Gravely
he drew II shut Then he knocked.
No answer. Politely ne refrained
from trying the knob and knocked
again. Then he shrugged and vent
out into the living room.
She's not home"
But she must be- Roger in
sisted.
How do you like that"
4 say. old man. do you suppose
we're in the correct flat ," Roger
lit up shewdly.
Just because we're a little
iate" Tim went on.
All that hurry for nothing!"
Roger sat down on the sofa.
Tim frowned. she couldn't have
misunderstood mel talked to her
on the phone. She knew we had q
date"
Roger considered. Perhaps she's
on an Grand"
Tim thought this over. Suddenly
he said. Would you like a drink >"
Are you going to have one, old
sport ,"
Sure
Il couldn't think Of letting you
drink alone. you know
Tim strobe across to a wall cab
met. No bottle was 10 be found in
il. He searched in a drawer He
rifled the telephone stand. Il can't
believe she'd just walk out" he
said as he hunted. The bottle was
not on the mantel. and il was not
at the side of the couch.
There's usually a simple expla-
nation everybody laughs at-oncs
it's out" Roger said philosophi-
cally.
Tim grew morose. This isn't
like her. She's so damned depend
able"
Not the coy type, is she ,"
Tim fixed him. What do you
mean? ,"
Not hiding under the bed, Is
she ?" Roger said brightly.
Why would she want to hide
under her bed ?"
Roger slipped. "She might be la
boring under neutrality-suspicious.
sion"
Tim shook his head sadly. He
sat down beside Roger on the sofa.
There was pause. Suddenly Roger
blurted, Tim. old boy-I like you.
Absolutely. Like having you in the
same outfit with me. But you know
i can't understand why you're
not in a fighter squadron.
Tim leaned confidentially close.
why should you understand it
when ] can't understand ii myself +?
Kept asking to be put in a fighter
squadron. On my knees, practi-
cally. Came all the way from the
U. S. A. Think it did any good ?"
No" Slowly Roger rallied his
strength, grew clear, became en-
phatic. why, l knew you were a
fighter-the first time l saw YOU
look at our Miss Brown Good
fighter pilots always have a way
with females. They get right to
the point without reconnaissance.
But now look at me. I'll always be
bomber man. Can't sail by N.Y.
| self, as you see. Have got TO have
fighter escort. Once l get over my
objective, ! know what to do, but
/ don't have the dash to carry the
whole thing off by myself"
Tim got up for a final hunt for
the bottle. Roger, you're AL
right"
I'm resigned to it," Roger RAM
bled on. Philosophical. Absolute
! ly. Once in a while a bomber gets
a lucky nit. Whosh--bang! And
when they do, they make better
husbands"
Tim returned. without success,
resigned. Think so?"
"oh, absolutely"
Tim Topped down upon the
couch. He took Rogers trench
coat, which lay in a bundle. and
adjusted it behind his head. AS ne
reclined, his skull struck some
thing hard in the folds of the coat.
He leaned forward, unrolled the
cloth. and in the pocket discovered
a fresh bottle of Scotch. Neither
ne nor Roger felt aroused TO COM
ment on 1t. AS a matter Of course
he uncorked it and poured a pair
of drinks. Roger peacefully watch
ed him.
Ito Be Continued)