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By Root 2280 0

he and his plane had been captured. His secret had been revealed, but to the German engineers, his plane’s odd technology caused more amusement than concern. While the two-seater planes had a machine gun mounted in the back, no danger to the prop, if the single-seat aeroplane was to become an effective fighter, something more sophisticated was required. The concept of the interrupter gear had been available to both sides at the start of the war, but only the Germans had accurately predicted how valuable a weapon the single-seat aeroplanes might become. The Fokkers had the gear now, which connected the motor to the mechanism of the machine gun, interrupting the firing of the gun when the blade of the prop was in the bullet’s path. German pilots could aim their guns by aiming the nose of their plane. A skilled pilot was automatically becoming a skilled marksman.

The Nieuport’s one Lewis machine gun was mounted on the plane’s top wing, so as to fire above the blades of the prop. In an engagement, the pilot had to concentrate on flying the plane while reaching up over his head to fire the gun, two distinctly separate skills. Worse, the Lewis guns carried their ammunition in a round drum that fastened directly to the gun itself. The drum held exactly forty-seven bullets, which could be exhausted in a few seconds. Each pilot carried spare drums, fastened to the inside of the cockpit. But changing the drum while being pursued by an enemy aircraft could be a nightmare. The pilot usually had to stand up, holding the plane’s stick between his knees. The mechanism for freeing the drum was clumsy and awkward, often too difficult to manage for stiff fingers and gloved hands. Worse still, the Lewis gun jammed so easily that often it wouldn’t fire at all.

THE SECOND PATROL WAS ON THE MOVE, AND LUFBERY STOOD AT the entrance to the hangar, watched as Thenault led Prince and Rockwell, and another new man, Clyde Balsley, out onto the grassy plain. Balsley was young, barely twenty-three, had arrived at the end of May. He was said to be a Texan, and the jokes had begun immediately, that the squadron’s Confederate forces had doubled. Kiffin Rockwell had returned to the squadron after a week’s recuperation, his face still scarred and bruised from the destruction of his windscreen. Rockwell learned immediately that he had no ally after all. Though Balsley had grown up in San Antonio, he was in fact from Pennsylvania, much to the delight of the squadron’s other Pennsylvanian, Bill Thaw.

Balsley had yet to fly, had been forced to wait on the arrival of new aircraft, a delay that had driven Captain Thenault to red-eyed fury. Finally, Thenault decided Balsley had waited long enough, and had assigned him to a patrol. Lufbery had watched Balsley scramble up into the Nieuport with undisguised glee. Thenault had seen it as well, had waited until Balsley was tight in his plane before walking up to the Nieuport, saying something to Balsley that no one else could hear. Lufbery knew what was said, had heard the same thing on his first patrol, knew the order by heart. Do not break formation unless I give the signal. Every new man was given the lecture the first day at the field, the same lesson Lufbery had witnessed being drilled into Victor Chapman.

THE NIEUPORTS WERE GONE NOW, DISAPPEARING INTO THE MORNING sun. Lufbery could still hear the drone of the motors, turned, saw Bill Thaw, and Thaw said, “Coffee? I fired up the cooker in the hangar. The mechanics’ll polish it off pretty quick. I saved you a cup.”

Lufbery flexed his toes, could still feel the cold stiffness, moved toward Thaw, said, “Thanks, yes. Chilly this morning.”

Thaw laughed, said, “It’s June, Luf. Has to be eighty degrees. Problems with your feet again?”

He saw the smile, understood now why Thaw was so popular with the others. There was no sarcasm in the man’s voice, nothing to embarrass Lufbery.

“Didn’t think anyone knew. I’ll get used to it. Maybe thicker socks.”

They moved into the hangar, and Lufbery saw the mechanics gathered around the naked fuselage of a Nieuport, propped