“Don’t mention it,” Panama interrupted, and then assuming his hard-shelled professional tone, barked out so that everyone on the field could hear: “Whatinell are you doin’ here anyway? Snap into it and wash that plane clean!”
CHAPTER V
Ten hours of intensive flying instruction pass ever so quickly for a group of air-minded boys, determined to make a place for themselves in Uncle Sam’s most important fighting unit, the Marine Aviation Corps.
With a good deal of practical aerial knowledge under his belt and a pressing desire to earn his wings, Lefty skipped through his instruction period plus one hundred per cent courage and ambition and approximately seven days of airsickness.
On this particular day, the flying field at Pensacola was buzzing with unusual activity due to the fact that several new students, just through their instruction period, were ready to make their first solo flight.
A line of five pursuit planes were ready in the center of the field, each plane attended by a mechanic.
To the left, a small observation stand had been built that was now occupied by both officials and officers of the Navy and Marine Corps.
Directly in front of the planes, Panama had his squad of pupils lined up for their final instructions.
As the hard-boiled sergeant went into lengthy detail on what each man was to do, the student flyers stood at ease, attentively listening to their instructor, all except Lefty who, as usual, when facing a crisis in his career, completely lost control of his nerves, due to an uncontrollable feeling of over-anxiety and a lack of faith in himself.
“Don’t forget your stuff now,” Panama finished by warning each man, “Climb up eight hundred feet, circle the field and make a three-point landing. Now remember—that stick ain’t no pool cue!”