Chapter 6
Chapter 6 of Grace Harlow with the US Troops in the Argonne by Jesse Graham Flower. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Chapter 6. The Sky is the Limit. May I ask who is the lady with the turban? questioned Hippie after he had succeeded in disengaging himself from Nora's strong arms.
Hippie, don't you know? It's Grace. Grace Harlow, you silly boy, spoke up the Overton girl. What, with that turban on? Nothing to it at all. It's Grace, I tell you. She's been wounded, can't you see? Introduce me, urged Tippi with a sly wink at Grace.
I never like to speak to a lady if I am not certain that I know her. You know, I always was a shrinking violet, and I've grown more so since I have been living up aloft with the birds of the air, flitting hither, tither and yon. What?
How do you do, hippie? greeted Grace laughingly. The last time I saw you, you were downing a hun, and after that battle one of your fine fellows came down close to— I remember.
How are you, Grace? How's Tom? Hasn't got himself killed yet, has he? Always did believe in safety first. "'That will do, Hippie.
"'I won't have even Hippie Wingate making light of my husband's courage,' "'rebuke Grace with mock seriousness. "'Yes, you ought to be ashamed of yourself,' added Nora heatedly. "'I am. Let's change the subject. Where are the rest of the girls?' "'You mean the Overton Unit.
"'Anne and Elfrida are down at the field hospital. "'Of course you are going over to see them before you go back. urged Grace. Not today. I'll drop in on them sometime, he added whimsically. Got to go out on a night raid this evening and chase a few huns out of the atmosphere. Nothing a special doing this afternoon, so I got leave to come over to call on my wife. First time I've seen her since
I got into the muss. How about the rest of the outfit? In Paris or near there. Emma Dean has a new sweetheart and I think she is going to marry him. Miriam Southard is with her husband entertaining. Mabel Ash and Arlene Thayer are doing red cross work and, as you know, Jessica Bright is in a base hospital at Vicky. Oh, I never did like that name, Vicky. Mother used to feed it to me to take the taste out of my mouth after I had taken a dose of medicine.
Why couldn't they just as easily have named the town Lemonade or Sweet Cider or Fruit Punch or something of the sort that would bring back pleasant recollections? Grace laughingly agreed with him, then told him to go sit down and talk with Nora while she entertained the doughboys. Nora brought out two camp stalls and for the next half hour
husband and wife were left alone to exchange confidences and talk over other matters that they had had no opportunity to discuss since Hippie went away to the war. Grace finally joined them at a signal from Nora who informed Grace that Hippie was going soon. Want to take a hop with me, Nora? invited the aviator. I do not. I get all the hops I need trying to dodge the box shells, and that's going rather too fast for Nora Wingate.
How about you, Grace? You... you mean... to fly with you? Of course. You didn't think I was inviting you to go out for a walk with me, did you? Grace looked startled. She always had longed to fly,
but she never had been quite certain that she would not be very much afraid. She was no more certain on this point now. is is it safe hippie safe what do you want anyway why this old boat was made by the hunt's corners sash door and blind company guaranteed not to fall to pieces unless you hit the ground too hard come over and i'll show you how it works this is the joystick that you push to the right or the
left to tilt your wings forward to lower the nose of the machine back to pour the nose up On the right side here is the throttle, which we call the gun, and your feet control the rudder, but most of the control is done with the joystick. Simple, isn't it? Very, agreed Grace. However, I... Cold feet, eh?
Hippy Wingate, you know better than that, retorted Grace a little heatedly. Yes, I will go with you. After she had promised, Grace regretted her hastiness, but she was too plucky to let Hippie Wingate see that she was timid about going up. Are you going high? she asked.
No, the sky is the limit, that's all. Oh, very good. I'm ready. Let's go. That's the talk. Get right in here and I'll strap you in. I sit in front and you back here in the fuselage pit. This is a dual control machine which may be operated from either cockpit,
so keep your hands off the machinery unless you are looking for a muss. Hippy, so long as I'm really going with you, I might as well go the whole way as only part of it. Will you take me over the German line so I may have a look? asked Grace. Not a single little thing doing in that direction, young woman, declared the aviator. Fine thing that would be for me to do, wouldn't it
And be tackled by a German flying circus Or even one of them What a pleasant time I should have Explaining to the chief That I had to run because I had a woman up with me
You and I will just float about On the safe side of somewhere And have a real old-time Oakdale joyride, eh? I should prefer to go over the lines If you do, you will fall over
You won't go over with my hand on the stick Grace laughed merrily. You never were stubborn like this back in those days, Hippie. However, go where the wind listeth, and I shall be perfectly satisfied, but I do hope we may have some thrills.
Hippie squinted at her reflectively. So it's thrills you want, is it? Nuff said. Hippie, with the assistance of some doughboys, turned the machine about and started the propeller,
doughboys holding the machine back while Hippie took his seat and belted himself in. He had already placed the observer's helmet on his passenger's head, this helmet being connected by a pipe with his own so that conversation might be held when necessary. All set, Grace, he called back.
Yes, let's go. They were off with a roar. Grace jolted this way and that, for the ground was lumpy and Hippie was driving at a terrific pace. When it seemed to her that he was headed straight to destruction in the shape of a stone wall ahead of them, the jolting ceased and looking over the side she saw that they had left the ground.
The airplane hurdled the wall, dipped a little, then lifted higher and higher as they streaked it across fields parallel with the enemy lines. How do you like it? the pilot called back. Fine, answered Grace with all the courage she was able to summon. How high are we? Do you know? Of course I know. Thousand feet and going up. I'm going to bank sharply now. Watch the stick and see how it works. The Overton girl did not know what a bank was, but she discovered almost instantly when the joystick gave her left leg a
wrap and the machine was stood on the tip of its left wing. She thought they were going over and grasped the edges of the cockpit nervously. Then the machine straightened out and went soaring along at an even keel. We nearly tipped over, didn't we? she gasped. What? That was a bank. We always do a sharp bank when we make a turn. That prevents drifting and, what is worse, skidding. A flat turn will make an airship skid like an automobile on a greasy pavement.
Argon forest over yonder to the right. See it? Grace, in her interest, had forgotten to be afraid and was now studying the landscape with eager eyes. The air from the propeller rushed past her in a perfect gale, and the fumes from the exhaust choked and made her cough, which caused the pilot up forward to grin. Just coming up on the field hospital, announced the pilot. It did not look like the field hospital that Grace had left earlier in the day and the tents were mere patches on the
landscape. Before she had time to fix the location of the tents in her mind, the plane was well beyond the field hospital, streaking it across the sky. The earth had by now flattened out. Human beings were mere dots and buildings were so foreshortened as to make them appear as if their roofs were flat on the ground. Want to take the stick? came the voice of the pilot in her ear. What do you mean, Hippy? Fly the machine. No, no, no, protested the passenger. Try it and see how easy it is.
I'll take it away if I find you are getting nervous. Hippy, I didn't come up here with the intention of committing suicide, nor of putting out one of my best friends. Sure, I know that. You came up for a jazz and you're going to have it. Grace felt of the stick gingerly, but light as was her touch, the pilot felt it. That's right. Handle the stick lightly and remember that you aren't driving a team of old skates. This is a flying machine, sensitive as a yearling colt.
Right, a little forward on the stick. Your nose is in the air too far. If she tips, throw the stick very gently in the opposite direction, but not too far. When am I to know that I've pushed it far enough? shouted Grace. You don't have to yell. I can hear you in an ordinary tone. If you tip over, you have pushed the stick too far.
There, isn't it easy? Much less bother than driving a horse. I think... A gust of wind jerked the right wing into the air, the left wing going down. Her heart in her mouth, Grace gave the joystick a violent shove to the right. For the next few seconds the Overton girl was too confused to know what was occurring.
She did know that the ship lay on its right side and was plunging and jolting dizzily. Her next conscious impression was that once more she was right side up and the airplane rushing through the air on a keen level. What in Sam Hill are you trying to do with this bus? demanded a voice in her ear. I did what you told me to do, gasped Grace.
Yes, but I didn't tell you to pull the stick out by the roots. If you turned the steering wheel of your automobile that way, you would land in somebody's field, provided the ditch wasn't too wide. Now try it again. I think I've done quite enough as it is, Hippy, called back the passenger.
Nonsense. You did well for the first time. I could make a flyer of you in no time. Hippy Wingate, I have no desire to be a flyer. I am quite content to leave that to those who feel the call to soar on high. Take the stick and look alive, commanded the pilot sharply, whereat Grace sighed and again grasped the joystick.
"'Keep that nose of yours down,' shouted the aviator. "'Keep your wings level.' "'How am I going to know when the nose is right and when the wings are level?' demanded Grace, now thoroughly exasperated with herself, as well as with that insistent voice in her ear.
"'Keep those little moving arms on the engine, the rocker arms, right on the horizon all the time, and you will have your nose in the right place, and watch the wings, that's all you have to do.' Only. In a few moments she began to take a real interest in handling the controls, and a feeling of exhilaration took possession of her. The joy of flying, free as the birds of the
air, came home to her and Grace Harlow began to feel a confidence in herself as well as in the machine, a confidence that in the novice always is a dangerous thing. Fine, you're doing great, encouraged Hippie. Suppose you wish to go down, what would you do? This, answered Grace promptly, at the same time shoving the joystick forward as far as it would go. Afterwards, Grace recalled hearing a voice yell in her ear, cut the gun and pull her up, you fool. They were plunging straight
toward the earth, not in a gentle glide, but in a straight nosedive that in a few seconds would land them in a crashing wreck. Hippie had cut the gun, closed the throttle, snatched the stick, and was slowly bringing the machine back to a level after making a long carving sweep in the air and again putting on the power. You surely did it that time, growled the voice in her ear. I may have said something rough to you, but what you proposed to do to this old bus was rougher.
He added in an apologetic tone, You had the theory all right. You know what to do when you wish to go down, but ordinarily we don't go down quite so violently unless a box circus gets after us rather unexpectedly.
Now try a left bank. I will handle the rudder. Shove it over gently. That's the idea. More, you're drifting.
Level off, stick up straight. There, didn't I tell you you could do it? I wish Nora could have seen you do that. Perhaps she did, cried Grace, in a tone that carried with it the suggestion of repressed excitement. And perhaps she did not.
Know where we are? I haven't the least idea. Only about sixty miles from that glory hut where Nora sings her lullabies to admiring doughboys, and we are still going. I'm going to steer you over that big cloud bank that you see beyond us.
no you do it pull back gently on the stick don't jerk it the way you pushed it we will be doing a loop before you know it and then perhaps go into a tailspin take it easy you have plenty of time grace did not feel that she had any time at all for that huge bank of clouds extending off for what seemed miles in three directions was rushing at her with express train speed that was as it seemed to her. As a matter of fact, the cloud bank was barely moving. It was the machine itself that
was in motion, in rapid motion. But now, handling the stick gingerly, she saw that they were gaining altitude, going up. I wished you to enjoy the sensation of being above the clouds, explained the pilot, and it will make it more interesting to you to drive the machine up there yourself. As soon as we are clear of them, level off and shoot ahead. The secret of flying is to be on the alert and do the right thing in the right way at the right time.
That's all there is to it. What do you do when you can't think of the right thing at the right time? demanded Grace. Our friends at home get a telegram from the War Department. Then they begin to make inquiries as to how to proceed to collect the insurance, was the answer that Grace heard through the tube.
Oh, it isn't the subject to make a joke of, rebuked Grace. Keep your eyes on the cloud, up a bit. Right, you'll clear it. I'm rather curious myself to see the silver lining of that cloud, she heard him mutter in her ear.
Grace just skimmed the top of the cloud bank, the wheels of the machine being hidden in the huge bank of vapour, Then, with a suddenness that left her powerless, the controls were jerked from her hands, and the battle-plane dove headfirst through the cloud. "'Botches!' yelled Hippie, as the earth came shooting up toward them.
End of chapter 6
