“The moon!” I shouted out loud to myself.
It rose rapidly. Invisible clouds far out at sea, silhouetted against the moon, gave the bottom of it its irregular shape.
The moon got up above the clouds in an incredibly short time. It was a full moon, golden and glorious. It made the clouds between me and it seem darker. It made the sea beneath the clouds silver. Through the large breaks in the clouds I saw a beam of moonlight like a golden path from the moon across the sea to the beach beneath us. The beam traveled with us. It raced across the sea under the clouds at the same speed that we flew through the air above the clouds.
I eased the throttle back and slowed the ship down.
“Paint that some day,” I shouted to Pat.
Pat was gazing out across the ocean toward the moon. She didn’t say anything. I knew she had heard me.
[FIVE MILES UP]
I was stationed at Selfridge Field after I graduated from the Advanced Flying School at Kelly. The Army Air Corps’ First Pursuit Group was at Selfridge. The officers used to gather every morning at eight-fifteen in the post operator’s office. We would be assigned to our various functions in the formation. Then we would fly formation for an hour or so, practicing different tactical maneuvers. After flying we would gather at the operations office again for a general critique, which was supposed to conclude the official day’s flying. We would separate from there and go about our various ground duties. I discovered I could quickly finish my ground duties and have a lot of time left over for extra flying. I used to bother the operations officer to death asking him for ships. He usually gave me one, and I would go up alone and practice all sorts of things just for fun. It was no part of my work. It was pure exuberance.
One day I was flying around idly in a Hawk. I decided I would take the Hawk as high as I could, just for the hell of it.