“Oh, these big crates are all right, I guess,” Rube had told the gang. “But a DH is a DH, and can never be a _chasse_ machine, you know. No matter how you figure, bunch, a ten ton truck is a ten ton truck and, if the truth must be known, that’s how these DH babies handle--like heavy duty trucks on old rubber. They’ve got lotsa power, but little pep; and less of that old maneuverability stuff than an Otis elevator. But let me tell you, cadets, when the nose of this hack gets away from you, it’d shame an elevator with the cables cut. Whew! They’re planting them every day at Romo’.” * * * * * At Romo’, Langdon and his mates reported for DH instruction. “Are these DH’s bad?” The instructor was fast on retort. “Boy, I’ll say they’re bad! These here culls just ain’t got no conscience a-tall, nohow. For my own part, I’m going to quit air for the Tank Corps. As a rule, when these crocks hit the sod, nothing’s above ground but the rudder, waving like a flag over a hole in the ice. I came here with ten friends. Four of them are up there on the hill--boxed.” “Ten friends?” Langdon mused, as though this had something to do with the business at hand. “Nobody in the world has ten friends.” “That’s how it looks to you,” the instructor answered. “Any guys that are sent up here to fly DH’s sure have no friends! And that’s why you won’t mind being bumped off ... Anyway, let’s see what you boys can do with these arks. Who’s who here? Let’s get a look at your monikers. When I call your name, step stiffly to the front, stand at rigid attention and answer--‘Here, kind sir.’ Lieutenant John J. Langdon!” “On the job, kind sir,” the new arrival answered. “And I’m a guy as ain’t got no friends.” “Langdon?” the instructor repeated. “I’ve heard of you, Lieutenant--never mind the salute. Weren’t you the bird who flew Major Greene from Mitchel Field clean to Hazelhurst, upside down, and told him that you were trying to get a look at your landing gear--that you thought you had blown a tire on the takeoff?” “The same dizzy guy,” Langdon said. “And wasn’t it strange? I couldn’t get a look at those wheels; and that was why I flew the major all the way back to Mitchel in the same way, upside down. Till I’d tried it, you couldn’t tell me that a pilot wouldn’t see the bottom of his plane by turning the bottom up. Is it not all strange, kind sir?” “It sure is,” the instructor agreed. “But lend an ear, Lieutenant. We have a commanding officer here who likes to ride in DH’s. One of these days I’ll manage to get you and him in the air in the same ship. Do you begin to see light?” “That’s one of my worst troubles, kind sir. My eyes take in too much light. The docs have a fancy name for it. But, anyway, it causes me to see--or think I see--fun in things that strike others as being drab. For instance, after that flight at Mitchel, Major Greene said that it was his first trip in the air.”