“Go bounce him out and send him up here, tout suite! Tell Major Cowan we’ll be over on the double quick. By the way, Rawlins, do you know where we’re going?”
“No, sir. Secret orders, I understand. But I don’t care a whoop just so long as it’s to the front.”
“Right you are. Toddle along, Rawlins. Buzz, light that other candle over there. I can’t even find my shoe by this light.”
An hour later, with all personal equipment packed and ready for the baggage truck, McGee and Larkin reported to Cowan, who was standing outside headquarters, issuing orders with the rapidity of a machine gun.
“All set, sir,” McGee said, “and thanks for the note of congratulations. In the nick of time, wasn’t it? Otherwise we would have been left behind.”
“I suppose so,” the Major replied. “Fact is, I don’t know your status now, and I don’t know how to dispose of your case. I called Wing and was told that your assignment hadn’t come down. The personnel 118of this squadron is complete. Here’s a pretty pickle! Guess I’d better pass the buck and send you back to Wing.”
McGee’s face fell. For once words failed him. He turned his eyes on Larkin, appealingly.
Larkin entered the breach manfully. “Major Cowan,” he began, “when we made application to get back under our own flag, we did it hoping we’d go to the front–not to the rear. This sudden order comes because pilots are needed. The better trained they are, the better our chances for victory. I’m not boasting, sir, but McGee and I have been in action. We can be a help.”
“Yes, yes. Of course. I’d like to have you in my squadron, well enough, but what about the red tape?”
“Wait until it catches up with us. Don’t go looking for red tape to fetter us,” Larkin replied.