With practised fingers the little man went over Don from head to toe. “No bones broken,” was his diagnosis. “Probably three ribs cracked. When his chest is taped up, he can be moved.”
“Good! We’ll take him to Para in the morning.”
“In that large plane, I suppose,” said the doctor.
“Yes.”
“And the other plane?” asked the doctor.
“If your men will help us, we can load the motors in our good plane,” said Sparky.
“It shall be done. You are Americans. I am an American. We all are Americans.”
“You’re right. We all are!” Mary exclaimed.
“The motors shall go,” said the doctor. “But that which remains?”
Sparky shrugged. “In a war there will always be losses.”