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By Root 2410 0

side of the pilots. Thenault waited for a long moment, then said, “I am pleased to inform you that the Lafayette Escadrille will very soon be receiving a greater number of the new SPADs. The Aeronautique Militaire has informed me that by July, we will turn over the last of our Nieuports, and will be equipped only with the SPADs. I know that several of you have already made flights in the new aircraft. If you have any useful information to share, please assist whenever you can. Lieutenant DeLaage is currently aloft in his new machine, making some test maneuvers. Upon his return, we will begin final flight preparations so that our patrols may commence as quickly as possible. According to everything I’ve heard about the new aeroplane, the Boches are in for a surprise. The SPAD is a formidable weapon. I do not expect your transition to the new craft to be difficult, but, as you are aware, there are always differences in aircraft, especially ones that have come by a different manufacturer. Are there any questions?”

Lufbery glanced around, saw a hand rising. It was Thaw.

“Captain, what the hell is a SPAD?”

There were a few laughs, and Thenault seemed confused by the question.

“If you mean, the name . . . well, yes, the aeroplane is manufactured by the Société Anonyme pour L’Aviation et ses Derivés. If you prefer, we can refer to the new aeroplane in that manner.”

Thaw nodded, seemed to ponder the decision. “Nope. SPAD will do.”

THEY GATHERED AT THE OPENING OF THE HANGAR, WATCHED AS DELAAGE brought the SPAD down, the wheels settling into the low grass with only a slight bounce. Lufbery smiled, had always been impressed by DeLaage’s talent for a smooth landing. The SPAD circled slowly toward them, the motor clucking unevenly, and Thenault trotted over to the plane, said something to DeLaage. Thenault was back now, said, “He will take it up again. I wish you to observe the SPAD’s angle of ascent, the added power that will help you gain altitude more rapidly than the Nieuport.”

DeLaage waved to them, revved the motor, spun the plane in a tight half circle, rolled out toward the long field. The SPAD was in full throttle now, and Lufbery could hear the low whine of the motor, deep and throaty, different from the Clerget, different from anything he had heard before. The plane left the ground, and Lufbery could tell that DeLaage was pulling the stick back at a steep incline, much steeper than they were accustomed to. But the SPAD rose steadily, its nose up, gaining altitude, a hundred feet, then quickly, two hundred. The plane banked now, turned sharply to the right, DeLaage keeping the nose angle high, and Lufbery focused on the sound of the motor, was surprised to hear a choppy break in the low steady groan. The plane was still in its steep banking turn, the nose still high, and the motor spit again, then suddenly was silent. Lufbery felt an icy burst in his chest, heard voices, the men shouting, “Straighten out . . . put the nose down . . . !”

The SPAD seemed to cling to the air for one silent moment, then slipped sideways, falling. The men were screaming in an awful chorus around him, and Lufbery felt the cold race through him, could only watch the plane fall, helpless, the slow horrible tumble, the plane impacting the ground in a sickening explosion of shattered wood. The men responded with a mad rush, scrambled across the field toward the wreckage. Lufbery did not move, watched them running, the shouts growing quiet as they moved farther away. The sickness rose in him now, and he dropped to one knee, felt a hand on his back, heard the voice of LeBlanc.

“He could have survived. It might be all right.”

There was no feeling in LeBlanc’s words, and Lufbery stared down, could only shake his head.

IT HAD BEEN TWO DREARY DAYS SINCE DELAAGE’S FUNERAL, AND THE rains had come. No one could fly today. When the rains soaked the creek beds and dry streams, the others had come to expect Lufbery’s long walks, his customary search across the muddy ground. He had not asked for company, was relieved that no one volunteered; no