To the Last Man - Jeff Shaara [38]
Thaw dumped the contents of the box on the ground, and Chapman sniffed, turned, moved back toward the door, said, “Fishing? In a war?”
Thaw ignored him, and Chapman was back inside the house now. Lufbery moved closer, saw strange pieces of wood, some carved and painted, and Thaw held one up, said, “See? Looks damned near like a Johnstown mule-bug. Caught a pile of trout on one just like it.”
Lufbery studied the jumble of assorted tackle, said, “Where would you fish around here?”
“Hah! Plenty of streams a little west of here. One good-sized one, empties into a swamp, small ponds all over the place. I could see the damned fish in every hole.”
Lufbery felt his own enthusiasm building, said, “A swamp? Muddy ground?”
“Not too bad. The woods are pretty thick, but there’s trails, probably made by farmers. You fish? You’re welcome to come along.”
“No, I don’t fish. But, thank you, yes, I would like to come along. It sounds like the perfect place to pick mushrooms.”
HE HAD RETURNED TO THE AIRFIELD WITH THAW AND CHAPMAN, watched as Thenault brought the patrol home. But Thenault did not make his usual slow circle around the field, brought his Nieuport straight in, a hot, fast landing. He taxied quickly toward the hangar, and the others landed behind him. Lufbery knew now what they all knew. There were only three of them. The mechanics were out quickly, the usual routine, and Lufbery saw Thenault rip off his goggles, toss the helmet to the ground. He pulled himself up and out of the plane, jumped to the ground, shouted, “Balsley is down!” He pounded his fists into his thighs. “I should not have allowed him . . . it was too soon!”
Chapman was close to him now, said, “What happened? Is he alive?”
Thenault shook his head. “Don’t know yet. He was being pursued, but he was staying ahead of them. We dove into an attack. . . . I think his gun jammed.”
Thenault was pacing now, and Lufbery could see the man was furious with himself.
Chapman was close to Thenault, his voice rising as well. “Where? Verdun?”
Thenault tried to get control of himself, seemed to calm in the presence of the tall man. “Verdun, yes. He was headed back this way. I lost sight of him south of the fortress.”
“Then he could be on our side of the lines. I’ll telephone the infantry outposts. They must know something.”
Thenault nodded silently, stared at the ground. Chapman was gone quickly, jogged toward the rear of the hangar, toward the telephone station. Thaw moved out past Thenault, waited for Rockwell and Prince to climb out of their planes. Both men were talking to Thaw in low voices, and Lufbery saw heads shaking. Thenault looked at Lufbery, said, “His first patrol. How can that be?”
Lufbery had never seen Thenault show this kind of emotion.
“Captain, he was trained as well as any of us. Did he break formation?”
Thenault shook his head.
“No. We all made the attack together. He was close to a two-seater, and I thought the Boche was finished, but then, Balsley spun away. It must have been his gun. Once the Boche knew that he was vulnerable . . . there was nothing we could do about it.”
There was a shout, from the rear of the hangar, and they all turned, saw Chapman waving. “They have him! He crashed in between the lines! They’re taking him to the evacuation hospital! He’s alive!”
Thenault rushed past Lufbery, everyone in the hangar now letting go of his own emotion, shouts of relief. Lufbery followed Thenault, and Chapman put down the telephone, said, “Let me go to him! I’ll find him!”
Lufbery could see Thenault hesitating, and Chapman leaned close to Thenault now. “Dammit, Captain, if you won’t let me fight, at least let me go to him!”
Thenault was surrounded by the pilots now, and Lufbery saw the calm returning to the captain’s face.
“We can do no good for him today. We must allow the hospital to do their work. Tomorrow, Mr. Chapman, you may find the location. You may offer our profound relief at his survival.”
CHAPMAN HAD FOUND BALSLEY, CAME BACK TO BEHONNE WITH word that Balsley’s wounds were serious enough that the young man would