PARKER'S STORY
This time he had a very fair start, and he made the best of it. Looking
back, he saw that two of the German machines headed after him, but
apparently gave up the chase before it was well begun. Once Jimmy
had a feeling that he ought not to run back to safety before
endeavoring, to see what had happened to Parker, but the flight
sub-commander had been most explicit in his instructions on that
head. "If you by any chance lose Parker," he had said, "come back."
He had lost Parker, right enough. That was about the first thing
he had done, he thought to himself with some feeling of self-condemnation.
All the while he was roaring on, his machine seemingly feeling like
a homing pigeon. He felt a fierce love for that noble hunter. He
felt he could almost talk to it and tell it how proud he was of having
been able to put it through its paces. Never had there been such a
machine before, he thought.
At last the home airdrome came into sight far below. Many a time
thereafter was Jimmy to feel glad he was nearing home, but never
more sincerely than on the afternoon of that first battle. He made
a good landing. His mechanics were waiting for him, and wheeled the
machine toward the hangar, while Jimmy walked off to headquarters
to report. Arrived there, he found that both the flight commander
and sub-commander were out. No one seemed worrying much about him.
He had been so intent on his job and it had meant so much to him
that it took a few minutes for him to get the right perspective, and
see that, after all, he was only one of the pieces in the big game,
and a bit of waiting would not hurt him or make his report any the
less of interest.
Would it be of interest? The thought came to him as he sat there,
quietly. What would he report? The flight commander was a busy
person. He would not, in all probability, have the time to hear a
long report, should he have the inclination to do so. What could
Jimmy report? First that he had lost Parker. Where in the name of
goodness was Parker? Jimmy would have given much to know, but
something kept him from asking. He had been sent out as a sort of
guard for Parker. He had lost him at the very beginning of the fight.
He might report that he had shot down an enemy hunter machine and
killed its pilot, but surely that would sound very bare and very
boastful.
Just as Jimmy was really making himself thoroughly miserable the
door of the rough headquarters shed opened, and who should walk in
but Parker himself! Jimmy felt he could have hugged him.
"I was sitting here wondering where you were," said Jimmy.
"Well, for the most part I have been chasing you," answered the older
pilot. "You certainly can fly that machine you were on to-day, young
fellow! If I were you I would ask the chief to let you stick to
that plane. You put up a swell little exhibition in her to-day."
"Chasing me?" Jimmy gasped. "Chasing me? I don't understand."
"It is simple enough. I suppose you saw me go for that big dray-horse
of a scout machine, didn't you?"
Jimmy nodded.
"I got him, I think," Parker went on. "Anyway, he went down. He
seemed to land pretty well, for a smash, but that sort of plane will
almost land by itself, sometimes. When I was sure he was down, sure
enough, I had come a bit too low, and for a while I was pretty busy
dodging the finest collection of Archies I have yet met with. I got
two fair-sized pieces of shell right through both planes, but they
didn't seem to matter a bit. I got up to a good height before I quit
climbing. So far as I could see, you had by that time managed to get
out of what must have been a bit of a trap, and were heading off
south at a rate of knots, as my sailor brother would say. I hovered,
watching the big hunter that dived on you. He didn't seem to know
quite what to do. He must have missed seeing me, for some reason.
"As I was waiting for him to make up his mind you did that ripping
loop. I saw that. So did the Boche hunter who was onlooking. I knew
you would get that center plane, and thought you would score two of
them, but you were right to take no chances of the number three chap
getting a drop on you. Where I played the goat was letting the
swooper fellow get a start on me. I guess I was too interested
watching your antics."
"Anyway, he got to your area before I did, though I wasn't far back.
Your skid off to the side put them all off, and gave me a fine chance
at Mr. Swooper. He fussed a minute, undecided what to do. That is
a bad fault at this game. I caught him just where I wanted him, and
he did his last swoop, I guess. I piled on home after you, but not
so fast. Anyone would think you were going to a fire, by the way you
came back. What was your desperate hurry?"
Jimmy laughed. He was so glad Parker was home safe and sound that
he did not mind being chaffed. So Parker had accounted for two enemy
machines? And he had been worrying about Parker! Well, he might as
well own up to himself, he thought, that he had been acting like a
very green hand at the game. But never mind! They had done a good
day's work, both of them. No mistake about that. He felt good. The
reaction had set in in earnest. Jimmy was simply happy.
At that moment the flight commander came in. Parker and Jimmy rose,
stepped forward and saluted.
"Back?" said the chief laconically.
"Yes, sir," answered Parker.
"Did you find any of their scouts?"
"Yes, sir. One."
"Get him?"
"Drove him down, sir. I could not tell much about his damage from his
landing, though I think he smashed a bit. I had a good chance at him."
"That all?"
"Yes, sir. Except that four of their hunters attacked Hill. He
side-looped and got free, then looped again and caught one well,
finishing him. He threw one other right into my hands, too."
"Get him?"
"Yes, sir."
"Right." The flight commander turned to go out, then, as if suddenly
remembering that Jimmy was a new hand at the game, he said over his
shoulder: "Very well done. Get Parker to show you how to make out
your report. Very good, both of you."
"H'm," said Parker as the chief stepped out of the door. "He is
getting talkative."
But the flight commander was more voluble when he saw Jimmy's squadron
commander that night. "I think that youngster you brought up with
you---boy by the name of Hill---is made of good stuff," he said. "He
went with Parker to-day, and between them they managed a very pretty
show. I shall read their official reports with interest. It isn't
very often a young fellow gets such a baptism, and it's still more
rare for one to pull it off the way Hill did. Why, those two got
two, if not three Boches. Think of it! If Hill keeps on the way
he has started out he will make a name for himself."
"I picked him as a possible good one," said the squadron commander
proudly. "I think he will keep it up."
Jimmy, though tired, did not go to sleep the minute he went to bed that
night. He lay for ten or fifteen minutes going over what the day had
brought him. Curiously enough, the last thing he said to himself,
before he dropped off to sleep, was very much akin to what his
squadron leader had said.
"It's not a bad start," was his good-night thought, "but I must keep
it up."