“You poor prune!” he addressed himself. “You never did have enough sense to know when you were well off.”
185CHAPTER IX
Lady Luck Deserts
1
There followed three days of maddening inactivity, during which time the squadron fretted and became as edgy as so many caged tigers. McGee made use of the time by securing a trim fitting uniform, the very sight of which threw Larkin into new outbursts of rage concerning the disappearance of his English uniform. A joke was a joke, when not carried too far, he argued, and admitted that he was exceedingly weary with the comments made concerning the fit of the issue uniform that he was compelled to wear. Every man professed innocence, but Larkin did not believe a word of their stout denials. The manner in which he took the joke was evidence of the irritability caused by the days of inaction. Every member of the squadron was looking for something over which they could quarrel.
Then one night, about nine o’clock, orders came down for a dawn patrol of two flights of five ships each.
Cowan summoned McGee and Larkin to his headquarters 186and gave them leadership of the flights. McGee protested, pointing out that he did not want to gain the honor at Yancey’s expense, and particularly since he considered Yancey worthy of the command. But Cowan was sure of the wisdom of the move, and made his own selection of the men who were to go on this first patrol.
The posting of those names on the bulletin board brought shouts of delight from the lucky ones and growls of disgust from those who were not selected.
Even Nathan Rodd, still wearing bandages on his head and right hand, broke his silence and wolfed loudly over the fact that he had been left out.
“Aw, dry up!” some other unfortunate pilot growled at him. “You’re still seein’ stars from that last crack you got on the head. What do you want–all the luck?”