There was little now to make them glamorous—no uniforms to be seen, no sound of bugles, no high hopes for adventurous times across the seas. In fact, they seemed to Kiwi a bit too spooky even in daylight. He seldom stayed long in any one of them. Dad had given him the feeling that they were crowded with the unseen presence of rollicking young fellows who had once stayed there, who had gone away, and had never returned. They had learned to fly, had mounted into the high heavens, had come to know a world apart—a world of mountainous clouds, with the ground far below blue-gray in the early morning—a silent kingdom of its own, its silence sometimes shattered by the rattle of machine-guns and the bursts of anti-aircraft shells.
Just before noon, as the sky seemed to lighten somewhat, Kiwi noticed their machine being wheeled from the hangar with its new stream-lining in place.
He hurried back and was told that they would soon start. As chocks[[4]] were put under the wheels, he climbed up into the cockpit beside his Dad. It was a tiny place with just enough room for two men, crowded with instruments and wheels. Even the seat was a gasoline tank. For gasoline was to be the life of their flight, and every possible ounce had to be carried when the real hop-off came. During most of the tests the tanks were only partly filled.
[4]. Chocks are triangular blocks of wood placed in front of the two wheels of the undercarriage to prevent the plane from beginning to roll after the propeller has been started.
He watched Dad as he adjusted the levers, and as the mechanic said, “Switch off! Suck in!” Dad leaned out and repeated it after him. The mechanic turned the propeller over several times to get a rich mixture in each cylinder. Then as the mechanic called out “Contact!” Dad threw over his switches, and after a couple of false starts the engine roared into life.
For a few moments, as it warmed up, Dad watched the dial which told the number of revolutions his engine was making. Then, as he felt that all was ready, he opened wide the throttle and the whole plane quivered with the roar of the engine. As soon as his instruments showed him that the engine was developing its full power, he throttled back and motioned to Jack to hop in.
As Jack started to do so, he said, “We haven’t the wireless aerial. Connors is splicing on a new piece.”
“Never mind,” Dad replied, “we won’t need it this time.”
Dad’s invitation to Jack meant that there would be no room in front for Kiwi. But Dad said, “Kiwi, you slip over the tank and ride in the compartment in the back.”