“But nothing! We can see it to-morrow night and be back the next day. That fine bunch of pilots of yours can’t get off the ground until the Spads get here–and maybe not then.”
“See here!” McGee challenged stoutly. “I’ll bet you anything you like that those boys–”
“Will all be aces in a month,” Larkin completed, knowing the extent and warmth of McGee’s habitual enthusiasm. “All right, Shrimp, so be it. But what has that to do with the show? Want to go?”
“Sure. But what about passes? I don’t know just who we are answerable to down here, in the matter of privileges and so forth. I’ve been sort of lost for the last few days.”
Larkin shoved his hand into his inside blouse 37pocket and brought forth two folded papers which he displayed proudly.
“Here are the passes–all jake! Marked official business and authorizing fuel and supplies, if needed. I’m a great little fixer. And about that question of not knowing who you are answerable to, don’t forget that it’s little Johnny Bull–capital J and B. You’re liable to get jerked off this detail so quick you’ll leave toothbrush and pajamas behind. Every morning now when I wake up and remember that I don’t have to go out on dawn patrol I start pinching myself to see if I’m awake. Boy, in this game it’s here to-day and gone to-morrow. Wasn’t it old Omar who handed out that gag, ‘Ah, make the most of what we yet may spend, before we too into the dust descend’?... Yeah? Well, he must have written that for war pilots. The minute J.B. finds out how comfortable we are down here we’ll be recalled and sent to chasing Huns back across the line. In fact, I think we’re both asleep and having nice dreams.”
“That reminds me,” McGee said, drawing up a chair and sitting gingerly on the edge after the manner of one about to indulge in confidential disclosures. “Have you heard anything of this repatriation business?”
“Sure. Haven’t you?”
“Not a word.”
“Where have you been? It came down in a G.O.”