The Kink

by Thomson Burtis

When an Airman Grows Too Old to Fly

THE KINK

By Thomson Burtis

Finley strode to the desk of the operations clerk in the flying office and inquired with a sunny Irish smile—

“Well, what old hulk do I haul around the field for flying time today?”

The grizzled old sergeant’s eyes dropped, and he seemed to mumble his words in embarrassment as he pawed for a slip.

“The Larkin, sir!”

“What?” exploded Finley. “That superannuated old wreck? What the ——, sergeant, what the ——? For the last month I’ve been trying to get my paws on a good ship and all I get are crates that should be in a museum! ——, I’m sick of—”

“Oh, well, it isn’t your fault.”