Hank was embarrassed. “You’ve been pretty decent to me in other times, remember that, Bill, old boy,” he said.
“Forget it,” said Bill.
Hank turned to the boys. “Bill here shot down a Boche when the Boche was all but stepping on my tail. Those were the days, eh, Bill?”
“You bet,” said Bill. “We sure were glad to get back alive. Remember old Lufbery? Raoul of the Lafayette Escadrille? There was a boy who could shoot them down. Six out of seven in one day. Not bad flying, that. They used to get pretty close to Raoul themselves. He’d come in with his clothes ripped with bullets, but ready to go right out again with the next patrol. Then one day he got his, and there wasn’t a man there that wouldn’t have given everything he had to save him, either. He’d gone up after a German that nobody seemed able to down. Lufbery climbed up to get above him, and dove. But something went wrong with his plane—God knows what, and those who were watching from the ground saw it burst into flame. Then they saw him stand on the edge of the cockpit and jump. It was horrible. But it was the only way for Lufbery to die—with his plane. He wanted it that way.”
Then Hank said, “And Bill Thaw! There was another flying fool. Bill was great fun—always laughing and joking, just as if his next flight might not be his last. Remember what he did to those three German planes when they got fresh with him, Bill?” He turned to the boys. “Thaw,” he explained, “was coming back from his regular patrol, when he suddenly came face to face with three German planes. One of them maneuvered to his left, the second to his right, and the third dove below him to fire up. Well, Bill had to think fast, and he did. He side-slipped until he was directly over the plane below him, and fired down. One gone. Then he pulled himself out of a steep dive, and went after the second plane. A quick swoop, and a steep bank, a rapid burst of fire, and the second German went down in a burning nose dive.
“From then on it was nip and tuck, and each man for himself, dog eat dog. It was a pretty even battle. The German was plucky, and ripped into Thaw for all he was worth. But one lucky turn, one accurate shot, and Thaw had him. Down went his plane. Thaw, his plane in ribbons, his clothes bullet-riddled, limped home, stepped out of his plane with a smile, and a joke on his lips.”
“Golly,” said Bob, “that must have been great fun. I wish I’d been there.”
“What would we have done with a baby in swaddling clothes?” laughed Bill.
“Aw,” said Bob, “you know I mean if I was old enough.”
Hank was looking into the distance, with the far-away look that meant another story was coming on, and Bob stopped talking.