Dunham was talking about patrols.
“Two a day of two hours each. Occasionally you will have six hours' flying, but almost never more than that.”
“What about voluntary patrols?” Drew asked. “I don't suppose there is any objection, is there?”
Miller pounded Dunham on the back, singing, “Hi-doo-dedoo-dum-di. What did I tell you! Do I win?” Then he explained. “We asked the same question when we came out, and every other new pilot before us. This voluntary patrol business is a kind of standing joke. You think, now, that four hours a day over the lines is a light programme. For the first month or so you will go out on your own between times. After that, no. Of course, when they call for a voluntary patrol for some necessary piece of work, you will volunteer out of a sense of duty. As I say, you may do as much flying as you like. But wait. After a month, or we'll give you six weeks, that will be no more than you have to do.”
We were not at all convinced.
“What do you do with the rest of your time?”
“Sleep,” said Dunham. “Read a good deal. Play some poker or bridge. Walk. But sleep is the chief amusement. Eight hours used to be enough for me. Now I can do with ten or twelve.”
Drew said: “That's all rot. You fellows are having it too soft. They ought to put you on the school régime again.”
“Let 'em talk, Dunham. They know. J. B. says it's laziness. Let it go at that. Well, take it from me, it's contagious. You'll soon be victims.”
I dropped out of the conversation in order to look around me. Drew did all of the questioning, and thanks to his interest, I got many hints about our work which came back opportunely, afterward.