“Do you think he’s got what it takes?” I asked. Leighton nodded. “He’s got a mind like a steel trap. And believe me, he’s no counter-puncher—he bores in like Old Battling Burroughs, the fleet champion, and keeps leading all the time, though never with his chin...” “He’s our catalyst,” Leighton continued, “the mysterious reagent that keeps all our atoms and molecules in a state of constant, frenzied excitement. He’s the ignition system of BUAERO. We chiefs of section are the explosive mixtures and when the admiral sparks us, we give the pistons a wallop and they start the connecting rods oscillating. That rotates the cranks, of which I am one,” he added with a grin, “and the whole thing turns over like an aircraft engine—high-strung parts whipping back and forth, between clearances the width of a gnat’s eyebrow. And, to complete our power-plant picture,” he concluded, “the whole thing would burn out except for the admiral’s other function; he’s the lubricant, a high-grade product of some refinery that created him and then threw away the formula. It all looks a bit hectic and confused but, amazingly enough, it produces results.” “But,” I asked, “what if the Congress is more impressed by the dynamic leader with all the right answers?” “Then,” Leighton replied with finality, “the country will be lost. Lost,” he repeated, quoting the punch line of an old Navy yarn about the sailor man weaving his way back to the boat landing through a line of telephone poles, “lost in an impenetrable forest.” After returning to our hotel that evening, I reviewed the day’s disclosures with my wife. We had both found that this was beneficial, on general principles, and besides, since a Navy wife is nearly as much subject to Navy Regulations as her husband, it seemed no more than fair. Apparently this Army-Navy dogfight absorbed every waking hour of the combatants. Since the power plant is clearly the heart of the airplane, then it followed that the Engine Section was a decisive front in a major campaign. The technical issue of air-cooled versus liquid-cooled involved the ancient conflict of government monopoly versus private industry. And there was no question where Admiral Moffett might stand on that. Though armed with authority, he showed the wisdom to use it sparingly. With faith in the processes of nature, he had the guts to let nature take her course. In this respect he was the direct opposite of General Mitchell. Their conflict went right down to bedrock. As my job in the struggle, the admiral had assigned me the task of creating a new line of engines. This I would do through fair competition and in private industry. The problem was tough because the industry was flat on its back. On the other hand, it was exciting because the admiral’s convictions were my convictions, and well worth fighting for. Maybe that was the reason he had reached down into the Caribbean for me. CHAPTER FOUR A Backward Art