“No you haven’t, Buzz. There is some reason deeper than that.”
39Larkin fingered his newspaper nervously and tried to simulate an interest in some news note. He hated to display sentiment, yet the fates had given him a double burden of it. As a matter of honest fact, he was as sentimental as a woman, and was forever trying to hide the fact behind a thin veneer of nonchalance and bluster.
“Did you see this communique from our old front?” he asked, trying to shift the subject. “They’re having some hot fighting up there.”
“Yes, I know. Things look pretty dark for the English. But answer my question: What is the real reason why you haven’t thought of getting transferred into the United States forces?”
“I didn’t say I hadn’t thought of it,” Larkin avoided. “Maybe I didn’t want to trade horses in the middle of the stream.”
“Any other reason?”
“Well, hang it all! a fellow builds up some pride in the uniform he wears. A good many of our buddies have gone out for their last ride in this uniform and–and it stands for a lot. Of course I am proud of my own country, and sometimes I feel a little strange in this uniform now that my own country is in the war, but it isn’t a thing you can put on or take off just as the spirit moves you. It becomes a part of you. Say! What’s eatin’ you, anyway? Are you anxious to change uniforms?”
40“Um-m. I’m not so sure. I like that bunch I met over there to-night.”
“Yes, and they are all afoot. The truth is, our own country hasn’t enough combat planes to send out a patrol. They are developing some mystery motor, I hear, but I’m not very keen about trying out any mystery motors. Our Camels are mystery enough to suit me. When I’m up against the ceiling with a fast flying Albatross or tri-plane Fokker on my tail, I don’t want any mysteries to handle. No, Red, for the time being I guess I’m satisfied. Besides, they might chuck me in the infantry, and I have a horror of having things drop on me from overhead. Let’s to bed, old topper, so we can hop off early in the morning. The sooner we start the sooner we get to ‘Gay Paree’. Besides, early to bed and early to rise makes a man ready to challenge the skies. How’s that for impromptu poetry?”
“Rotten! Omar and Ben Franklin both in one evening!” McGee yawned as he began pulling at a boot. “But it makes me sleepy. Go on, say me some more pretty pieces. Or maybe you’d like to sing me to sleep.”