Thomson Burtis

“ Fifty feet above the trees the scout swept upward, and on its back. As it came swooping out of the loop its under-carriage seemed to graze the trees. It zoomed upward, banking as it rose, until it hung in the sky with idling motor, left wing pointed at the ground. It dropped almost straight downward in a vertical side-slip, straightening just above the ground.
It skidded wildly from side to side as Forell fishtailed it, and landed lightly on three points.
“Landing out of a loop,” thought Finley. “He’ll get bawled out for that, but he won’t mind.” ”

“ A fat-headed young fool like Forell couldn’t affect Finley’s peace of mind for a moment.
Rather, the older man’s dislike was the result of his utter contempt for Forell’s blind insanity. There was a bird with a brilliant future, he reflected a thousand times, who was throwing away his chances for an ideal life, through sheer egotism. A born aerial engineer, a flying genius, young, handsome, loving his work—why, the Kink could be one of the biggest men in the service, and an asset to it. ”

“ Kink leaped to his feet, his face flushed and his words tumbling over themselves as the applause smote him.
“All I can say is that you’ve been listening to a man who can’t fly any more, so what he says means something. He knows, and he—can’t do any more to develop the game. That’s what lays ahead of all flyers—either have to quit, worn out and through, or get killed. But who cares? It’s the greatest game in the world!”
Finley’s face did not change. Forell had to dramatize himself, of course. ”

“ The vibrant youngster went on loudly. “When you land a ship, it doesn’t roll a foot!”
Finley despised himself for the inclination he had to answer the cocky Forell in blazing words. It was hard to control himself.
“Sort of hard on wheels, though, my method is,” he said slowly, a set smile on his face.
“Prettiest landing I ever saw!” gibed Forell, hard mockery in his eyes. “Perfect dive, great leveling off, tail skid down just as she was losing speed—ten feet in the air! Boy! What a darb that one was! I never—”
“Shut up, Kink!” snapped Redding. ”

“ He was trembling as he got into the front cockpit, and started the motor. Finley walked at the left wingtip as the ship taxied to the upper right-hand corner of the field, and there he helped swing it around. The rocks under the wheels, he got in. He was tight-lipped and grim-faced as he settled himself for his worst ordeal in eighteen years of flying.
What kind of a pilot would that quivering, hysterical youngster in the front seat be when he was flying for his life? The Kink was sure he was going to his death.
The Liberty roared into life, the throttle all the way ahead. ”

“ He couldn’t land four tons at fifty miles an hour, without wheels. And the Larkin wasn’t worth saving, anyhow.
It was so left-wing heavy now that it took all the strength in Finley’s powerful shoulders to keep it on an level keel, and the vibration was so terrific that he could see the wing tips oscillate. The thousand-pound motors seemed to be striving to tear themselves loose, and each landing and flying wire gave an illusion of being a dozen.
If only the old hulk would hang together for five minutes! That would get him over the vast expanse of Wilbur Wright Field, seven miles north. ”

“ There wasn’t a test pilot on the field who could come down after flying a new job and analyze its performance as well as the Kink. Finley’s own ability to recommend changes in big ships’ construction which would improve them, was Forell’s on the scouts, and there was no reason why, with further experience, he shouldn’t be a whiz on any old plane at all. Every wire and strut and spar, every eighth of an inch of span or chord, every degree of incidence or dihedral—all had their message for the brilliant youngster, and his recommendations on new jobs had been uniformly accurate. ”

“ Three lounging pilots looked upward, and the swarm of mechanics on the line quit work entirely. When King Forell was flying there wasn’t a great deal accomplished on McCook Field.
The little scout shot downward, motor wide open, in a terrific dive. Two, three, four thousand feet it dropped like a bullet. As it swooped out, barely five hundred feet above the ground, Forell fairly stood it on its tail. It bored its way upward a full half mile in a few seconds. At the very top of the climb it arched over, as if to loop, but as it got upside down it turned slowly on its horizontal axis. ”

“ Listen, Finley, though, on the level. You ought to get out of this flying game. You get old young in this racket, and you’ll kill yourself before you know it. I’ll bet the flight surgeon’d find more things wrong with your eyes than—”
“Oh, ——,” breathed big Franklin wearily. He darted a look at Finley, who was seated at the desk. “Say, Kink, I need a little advice, too. Have you any suggestions to make as to how I can improve my cross-country?” ”

“ You can fly as an observer, of course.” Finley took the blow standing up.
“Sure. I won’t lose—any pay.”
He could scarcely comprehend the full meaning of what had happened as he walked slowly to the mess-hall. He was numb, somehow, mind and body. As the babble of voices from within reached him he gathered himself, and forced himself to lounge in and nod smilingly to a couple of visiting flyers. When he settled himself at the long table which the test pilots gathered around, he saw the unspoken question in the eyes of Redding, Sparks and the others. ”

“ For this time King scraped the ground as he came out of that bullet-like dive, and again the ship was darting almost straight upward. But this time it was turning in a two-turn-upward tailspin.
“There,” reflected Finley, “is the best acrobatic pilot I ever looked at. By the same token, he’s a bird that’s so far from being wise to himself that he’ll ruin his chances if he don’t look out. He could be a great guy in the service, if he doesn’t spoil his own chances!”
He moved slowly toward his ship as the “Kink” went into a continuous series of stunts. ”

“ Forell, you give ’em a flying exhibition this afternoon. Finley, they want you for a speech at the banquet tonight. Don’t go crazy, Forell—just give ’em a little show.
“Better start right away. It’s a two hour and a half trip. You’ll be put up down there. If you’re having a good time, you needn’t come back until Monday morning.
“Good luck. That’s all.”
“Boy, this’ll be fun!” Forell chuckled jubilantly as they went out. “Ever been in Nashville? They sure have good-looking Janes there, and we’ll be cocks of the walk. You’re not too old to like the women, are you?” ”

“ A —— of a flyer you are! Got all the nerve in the world when the motor’s going good and you’ve got a crowd watching you, haven’t you? But when it comes to getting in there, out here in the wilderness, and giving her the gun when you’ve only got an even chance, you haven’t got the guts!”
“Shut up, or I’ll—”
“You’ll do what?”
Finley spat his words at him. His powerful body seemed to grow and expand until it overshadowed the slim youngster. There was contempt and hate in his eyes as his tongue played around the alternately shrinking and then wildly furious Forell, like a whip. ”

“ They were thinking, Finley had heard, of sending him to Tech for a four year course in aero-dynamics and design. Well, they couldn’t pick a better man.
“If only he wasn’t such a pup. Shame, too,” Finley thought to himself.
Forell’s exhibition was done as Finley reached his ship and started strapping his parachute around the back of his thighs. As he snapped the shoulder and crotch straps together at his waist, his placid blue eyes swept the mechanic. ”

“ On that forced landing the wheels had hit a log and the ship turned over. Another time, one of those —— reversible pitch propellers had suddenly gone into its negative position ten feet above the ground and snapped the nose down. The other crashes had been right on the field—bad air currents. When a man got into a run of luck of that kind he’d crash into an oasis with the whole Sahara desert to land on.
Perhaps that was the reason for his flying assignments, too. Like this Larkin, for instance. When the Larkin was a brand-new wonder he had been chief test pilot. ”

“ 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! ”

“ But I figured that we might do it by blocking the wheels and some other stuff, so I said, ‘What the ——? Either we do or we don’t!’ So I give her the gun, get the tail up, do a snake-dance down this little pasture lot with trees all around it.”
His flashing eyes met Finley’s tranquil gaze, and he stopped talking as if a hand had been clapped over his mouth. There was fear in his eyes as Finley’s held them.
“Yeah,” Finley drawled placidly. “It was a tough spot, but the Kink made it. Who’s got a cigaret?” ”

“ The reserve squadron down at Nashville are dedicating a hangar they’ve built on some lot they’ve leased for a flying field. They’re getting a couple of Jennies to get in flying practise on. There’s a banquet tonight. ”