The following evening Larkin came back again, just as the nurse had finished giving McGee a light, liquid meal.
“Hello, you little shrimp!” he sang out cheerily. “Eyes bright and everything! Old Saw Bones just told me I could see you for five minutes–but to do 204all the talking. You can have three questions only.”
A thin, tired smile came to McGee’s freckled face, a face almost hidden under the bandages that completely covered his head.
“All right,” he said. “First question–will I fly again?”
“Of course! In four or five weeks you’ll be good as new.”
“Four or five weeks! What–”
“Careful now, or you’ll use up all your questions. When you set that Camel down in a shell hole she flipped over and your head was slightly softer than a big rock that happened to be handy. I would have bet on the rock being softest, but it seems I’d lost. You went blotto. A bunch of soldiers dragged you out from under what was left of that Camel–which wasn’t much. Then an ambulance brought you back here. This hospital is about five kilos from squadron headquarters, and I’ve been back here twice a day for the past five days, worrying my head off for fear you’d never come to.”
“Five days?” Red responded, his voice indicating his disbelief.
“Yep, five days. Three days passed before you even opened your eyes. Try and land on your feet, next time.”
“The nurse tells me my left arm is broken,” McGee said. “Wonder how I got that?”