Dicky Mann had been selected by the flight commander to work up a
special set of maps---office work that required great care. He had
been absorbed day and night, and had cut down his sleeping hours to
five or six hours instead of the eight or nine he used to indulge in
at Brighton.
It was not so exciting as flying, the commander had told him when
he was selected for the job, "but of equal, if not greater, importance."
At all events, Dicky was at it, heart and soul, and the evening that
Will Corwin made his appearance was the first for some days that
Dicky had joined his messmates for a chat after dinner.
"How do you think we Yanks are making out against the Teutons in the
air, Will?" asked Harry. "Do you think they are beginning to recognize
that we have 'em beaten?"
Will Corwin grinned. "'Beginning to' is good, but that's along way
from the finished realization, and I don't guess that will come for
some little time yet. It's up to America and the Allies to keep on
turning out planes and fliers at top speed.
Pages:
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160