So I've been crawling in
and around and under it--"
"While I've been lying here I taking it easy!" broke in Tom. "I
don't call that fair of you, Jack," and he seemed genuinely hurt.
"Go easy now, my pickled onion!" laughed his chum. "I wasn't going
to leave you out in the cold. I just came to tell you that you'd
better stop looking like a moving picture of an airman, and put on
some old duds to look over your own craft. And here you go and--"
"All right, old ham sandwich!" laughed Tom.
"I'll forgive you. I'm going to do the same as you, and tinker
with my machine. If, as you say, we're likely to be on the job
again soon, I don't want too take any chances either. Where's that
mechanician of mine? There was something wrong with my joy stick,
he said, the last time I came down out of the clouds to take an
enforced rest, and I might as well start with that, if there's any
repairing to be done--"
Tom flung off his uniform jacket, with the two silver wings,
denoting that he was a full-fledged airman, and sent an orderly to
summon his chief mechanician, for each aviator had several helpers
to run messages for him, as well as to see that his machine is in
perfect trim.
Experts are needed to see to it that the machine and the aviator are
in perfect trim, leaving for the airman himself the trying and
difficult task, sometimes, of flying upside down, while he is making
observations of the enemy with one eye, and fighting off a Boche
with the other--ready to kill or be killed.
Pages:
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25