McGee clicked his teeth in a little sound of suppressed emotion, slipped through the hangar door and stood face to face with his own old Ack Emma.
“For the luva Pete!” exclaimed the startled air mechanic. “When did you get here, Lieutenant?”
McGee extended his hand in greeting. Williams grasped it, eagerly.
232“Well, for the luva Pete?” he repeated, lacking words in his surprise and pleasure. “Lieutenant Larkin! Oh, Lieutenant Larkin!” he began roaring. “Oh, Bill! Where’s Larkin?”
“Just left a minute ago,” came a voice from under the hood of a new Spad. “Went over to his quarters to wash up. Grease from head to foot.”
“I’ll go show you his quarters,” Williams said, eagerly.
“Never mind, I’ll find him,” McGee said. “Have to check in at headquarters first. I hear Cowan is still C.O.”
“Yes, sir. He sure is. And he’s a darb, Lieutenant.”
“So I hear. Piling up quite a record. How many of the old gang still here, Williams?”
“Not many. If the Hun doesn’t get ’em, nerves and the smell of castor-oil does. Half a dozen of ’em gone flooey in the stomach. Couldn’t eat enough to keep a bird alive and couldn’t keep that down. It’s a tough game, Lieutenant. Next war that comes yours truly is going to join the infantry.”