To the Last Man - Jeff Shaara [206]
Lufbery was all knots inside, his hands curled into tight fists, his brain screaming at him to kill this man.
“What do you want me to do, Major?”
“Didn’t I say? I should like you to prepare some sort of instruction booklet, something that draws on whatever form of experience you had in the air. I am told that you actually engaged the enemy with some success. Since the Air Service has seen fit to grant you the rank of major, you will have the opportunity to perform a task befitting that level of responsibility. If indeed you have bested the deadly Hun, then surely you can assist our efforts in training the new pilots by authoring a training manual detailing the proper technique.”
Lufbery’s eyes were closed, his chin pulled down to his chest. “The proper technique for what?”
“Why, for killing Germans, of course!”
FEBRUARY 18, 1918
He moved past the low buildings, glanced at his watch, annoyed that Major Gray held so much power over him, the little man who so enjoyed keeping this former pilot in a cage. He climbed the short steps, heard low voices in distant offices, saw no one in the main office. He let out a breath of relief, slipped quickly toward his own dismal space, pushed the door open, was surprised to smell the hard stench of a cigar. The door swung wide, and he saw a man seated behind his desk, feet up, his hat low on his face. The man peered up at him, raised the hat, said, “About time you got here. How in hell have you survived this godforsaken place?”
It was Bill Thaw.
Lufbery smiled, felt a bright beam of sunlight flowing through his mind, watched as Thaw straightened himself in the chair, the cigar clamped tightly between his teeth.
“Bill . . . what are you doing here? When did you get here?”
“Whoa there, soldier. That’s Major Thaw to you. Oh, well, hell, you’re a major too. Looks like everybody around this place is a major. Found any mushrooms around here? I could use a good French meal.”
Lufbery was still smiling, said, “No mushrooms. No good ground here.”
“And I bet you searched your ass off, too.”
Lufbery laughed, moved around the side of the desk, and Thaw stood, put a hand on his shoulder, said, “Good to see you, Luf. You making out okay?”
Voices flowed into the office, and Lufbery turned, saw Major Gray.
“Oh, you’re back. Good. I’ve been working on some new ideas for incorporating the infantry’s marching drills into our pilot training. Thought it would be . . . oh.” Gray noticed Thaw now, said, “Who are you? Haven’t seen you here before. Did Colonel Mitchell send you down here? I told them we would get the supply forms completed by the end of the day.”
Lufbery made no attempt to hide the smile, said, “Major Gray, this is Bill Thaw. He’s from the Lafayette Escadrille.”
Gray seemed to wince, said, “Pilot, eh? Just what I need. Look, Thaw, I only have a limited amount of office space. You can share this one for now. Since you and Loverbee are acquainted, shouldn’t be a problem. You should know that I don’t have much patience for junior officers who think they’re still in France.”
Thaw looked at Lufbery, said, “We’re not in France? Who is this jackass?”
Gray puffed up, said, “Watch your mouth, Thaw. My commission dates from January first. In case you aren’t aware of protocol and rank in this army, that places me in command of this department.”
Thaw laughed, said, “Really? Hadn’t thought of that. Well then, I suggest you watch your mouth, Major. I got my commission on December tenth. I guess that means I outrank your scrawny little ass. And one more thing . . .” He reached into his jacket pocket, pulled out a piece of paper. “Here’s some more protocol for you. I have orders here relieving Major Lufbery of his responsibilities to your department. He has been assigned to the Ninety-fourth Aero Squadron, effective right now.”
Lufbery felt numbed by the words, realized that Thaw was serious. He felt Thaw tugging at his arm.
“Let’s go, Luf. This place is giving me a bellyache.” He pulled Lufbery toward the