Freddy said slowly, "Why can't you have some blood and guts combat,
right up there in that glider?"
"Have you gone drivel-happy?"
But the little man was on his feet, pacing the floor quickly,
irritably, but still happily. "A dogfight. A natural. Listen, you ever
heard about dogfights, major?"
"You mean pitdogs, like in Wales, in the old days?"
"No, no. In the First War. All those early fighters. Baron Von
Richthofen, the German, Albert Ball, the Englishman, Rene Fonck, the
Frenchman. And all the rest. Werner Voss and Ernst Udet, and
Rickenbacker and Luke Short."
Joe nodded at last. "I remember now. They'd have a Vickers or Spandau
mounted so as to fire between the propeller blades. As I recall, that
German, Richthofen, had some eighty victories to his credit."
"O.K. They called them dogfights. One aircraft against another. You're
going to reintroduce the whole thing."
Joe was staring at him. Once again the Telly reporter sounded
completely around the bend.
Freddy was impatiently patient. "We'll mount a gun on your sailplane
and you'll attack those two gliders Cogswell says General McCord has."
Joe said, "The Sov-world observers would never stand still for it. In
fact, there's a good chance that using gliders at all will be
forbidden when the International Disarmament Commission convenes next
month. If the Sov-world delegates vote against use of gliders as
reconnaissance craft, the Neut-world will vote with them. Those
Neut-world delegates vote against everything." Joe grunted. "It's true
enough gliders were flown before the year 1900, but not the kind of
advanced sailplanes you have to utilize for them to be practical.
Certainly there were no gliders in use capable of carrying a machine
gun."
Freddy demanded, "Look, what was the smallest machine gun in use in
1900?"
Joe considered. "Probably the little French Chaut-Chaut gun. It was
portable by one man, the rounds were carried in a flat, circular pan.
I think it goes back that far. They used them in the First War."
"Right! O.K., you had gliders. You had eight portable machine guns.
All we're doing is combining them. It'll be spectacular. You'll be the
most famous mercenary in Category Military and it'll be impossible for
the Department not to bounce you to colonel and Low-Upper. Especially
with me and every Telly reporter and fracas-buff magazine we've bribed
yelling for it."
Joe's mouth manifested its tic, but he was shaking his head. "It
wouldn't go, anyway. Suppose I caught one, or both, of those other
gliders, busy at their reconnaissance and shot their tails off. So
what? The fans still wouldn't have their blood and gore. We'd be so
high they couldn't see the action. All they would be able to see would
be the other glider falling."
Freddy stopped dramatically and pointed a finger at him in triumph.
"That's where you're wrong. I'll be in the back seat of your
sailplane with a portable camera. Get it! And every reporter on the
ground will have the word, and his most powerful telescopic lens at
the ready. Man, it'll be the most televized bit of fracas of this half
of the century!"