Air Stories, November 1937 — page 11: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

DUSTMEN DON’T CARE came dropping down from _ upstairs, and——”’ Inwardly he was thinking fast. He could not remember any _ especially heinous crime that any member of the squadron had committed, lately. Then suddenly he thought about the inventive Edison, and an awful fear touched his heart. Surely Edison couldn’t have gone along to Headquarters with any of his brilliant ideas . ‘‘ They’re having a pretty bad time at home with these air raids,’’ said the General, conversationally. ‘‘ The Home Defence Squadrons don’t seem to be able to get to grips with the raiders. It’s having a bad effect, Clarke—a very bad effect, indeed. In a war like this, the morale of the people at home has to be kept up. Most important, that.’’ ‘“Yes, sir, oh certainly, sir,’’? agreed Nobby with complete inattention. Something pretty awful must be com- ing, he was thinking, or the General would not be hedging round the point, and making this aimless small talk, in the manner of a Chinese mandarin diplomatically approaching a bargain. ‘“Well, that’s the point,’’ said the General, tapping the desk with his crop. ‘‘ They’ve been talking the matter over in Whitehall. You’re going home.’’ If the General had suddenly drunk the ink, and then stood on his head on the desk, Major Nobby Clarke could not have been more completely and blankly sur- prised. He opened a dry mouth, but no sound issued forth. He passed a hand over his eyes. ‘‘ Did you say, sir,’’ he asked, ‘‘ that I—I was going “ ‘“The Home Authorities realise that something has got to be done,’’ said the General, heaving himself up. ‘‘ At the moment, the Hun is getting through to London in his Gothas, and dropping his bombs, and going back home again without losing a machine. So the Government have decided that the only thing to do is to put the best men we’ve got on the job—for the time being, anyway. Now, Clarke, the record of your squadron is higher than any in the line.’’ 389 ‘‘Thank you, sir,’’ feebly, ‘‘ but—but a ‘*'You’ll clear out to-night,’’ said the General. ‘‘ Fill up your machines and take your squadron back across the Channel immediately after dark. Land at Northley. Don’t say a word to anybody, of course. Just let your men think that gasped Nobby they are taking-off at full squadron strength for special operations over the line. Can’t have this kind of thing leaking out, you know ! ’’ He moved towards the door. ‘‘Tf we’re careful, it won't leak out,’’ he finished. ‘‘ This aerodrome will still be working full steam by dawn, to- morrow. I’ve got an entirely new personnel arriving here, immediately after you leave. They’ll be flying the same machines, carrying the same badges your squadron have now. Oh, by the way—directly you arrive home you must have all your badges painted out. When you meet the Gothas over London, it’s possible that one or two may escape. And we don’t want them to realise that we’re having to withdraw squad- rons from the line; which tiley will do if they catch sight of that badge of yours in a searchlight beam. Very well, Clarke, carry on.’’ OBBY came back to life with a start. ‘<'Yes, sir,’? he breathed. ‘‘ Yes, sir—but, sir, just one moment, sir.’’ This order, the whole idea, had been so utterly unexpected that it had taken some time to sink fully into his mind. Now that it had done so, however, Major Nobby Clarke, the war-wise veteran, was facing a very big problem. ‘It’s not my place to criticise, sir,’’ he said, as the General hesitated, ‘‘ but— but have the fellows in Whitehall really thought this thing over? The chaps at home are doing their very best. Amongst the London defence squadrons there are lots of men I’d be proud to have here, You see, sir, the point about myself. night air raids is ‘“What’s the matter with you, Clarke?’’ asked the General. ‘‘ After all your experience here in the line I should hardly imagine that you’d hesitate to 99 JOO CONNMUG S C©