"About what?" Freddy asked.
"Well, just then I was thinking about that Arado I cracked up," Dave said. "I sure feel rotten about that. I wish I could have brought it down all in one piece."
"Good grief, forget it!" Freddy gasped. "It was wonderful of you to get it down at all. I would have killed us both, for fair. I can tell you, now, that I was very scared when you took off. I didn't know then how well you could fly, but I do, now. You're a little bit of all right, Dave. I mean that, really!"
"You're swell to say that, anyway," Dave grinned. "I'm still sorry, though, I had to go and crack it up. I don't know ... Well, I guess a plane to me is something like what his horse is to a cow puncher. It's ... it's almost something human."
"I know what you mean, Dave."
"Do you, Freddy?" Dave echoed. "Well, that's the way it is. And I'll tell you something, but you'll probably think I'm nuts. I made an awful punk landing when I made my first solo. Cracked up the ship. I busted a wing and wiped the undercarriage right off, and didn't get a scratch. But do you know? I felt so bad about it I busted right out bawling like a kid. My instructor was scared stiff. He thought something awful had happened to me. But when I finally cut it out he was swell about the whole thing. He said it was the normal reaction of a fellow who could really go for flying. It made me feel better anyway. Yeah, I sure feel pretty punk for busting up that Arado, even though it was a German crate."
Freddy started to speak but Dave didn't even hear the first word. The car had bounced out of a field and was being swung onto a road when the landscape on all four sides suddenly blossomed up with spouting geysers of brilliant red flame and towering columns of oily black smoke. Thunderous sound rushed at them and seemed to lift the small scouting car straight up into the air.
"Shrapnel barrage!" the Sergeant screamed and slammed on the brakes. "Take cover under the car at once!"