The boy was thrilled from head to toe at the opportunity of once more standing face to face with the man who had encouraged him so that dismal afternoon in the little New Haven railroad station wash room. A broad, generous smile was plainly registered upon Lefty’s happy face as he waited for Panama to display some sign of recognition. “Wipe that smile off your pan!” Williams bellowed and passed on to the next man. He looked back for a moment, somewhat puzzled. Certainly he had seen that face before and the boy’s smile was probably one of recognition, but where, when or how he knew the recruit, he could not explain and furthermore, made no serious attempt to. Panama was in the midst of his element. True to his calling, this hard-boiled sergeant had a greater penchant for talking to new recruits than eating. He stopped a few paces back and eyed each man again before beginning to speak. “So you want to be flyers, eh?” he drawled in an uncomplimentary manner. “You want to be birdies and go bye-bye in the clouds? Well—it will be a miracle if any of you ever leave the ground!” Every man in the line felt a lump rise in their throats that they tried, unsuccessfully, to swallow. Panama turned and pointed to a Martin Bomber standing some twenty feet away as the eyes of every man followed the direction of his finger. “That’s an airplane. Get that? A Martin Bomber and a wonderful piece of machinery that cost old Uncle Sam about fifty thousand smackers. It’ll be a long, long time before we get foolish enough to let you babies take one of those things up alone for an airing!” If Panama thought that his little heart-to-heart chat with these boys would discourage them in any way, he was mistaken. They merely looked on silent, each man certain of the fact that one day, they would show this loquacious sergeant a thing or two. “It’s up to me to make pilots of you. It’s going to be tough on me but tougher on you,” Panama went on to explain. “But if you got guts enough to make the grade (and I don’t think any of you have), it’ll be worth the effort! Dismissed and report to me at six o’clock to-morrow morning!” The men broke formation and started off toward the barracks just east of the landing field. Panama watched them for a moment, then an idea came to him and he called after his charges to come back. When they had again fallen into line, he smiled grimly for a moment and then explained: “When I learned how to fly, I got my education in a Jenny, and before we could take our little Jenny for a ride, we had to give her a bath. Now you guys hustle over there and wash that plane—and don’t use any perfume on her either!” As the men broke rank and started off to where the Martin Bomber stood, Lefty hesitated, staring at Panama, undecided whether or not to approach him.