The Last Heroes (Men at War 1)

‘‘Bourbon,’’ Canidy said.

‘‘Give us two of the same,’’ Bitter said to the bartender.

‘‘Hard likker? The next thing you know, you’ll be out wenching!’’

Bitter looked at him uncomfortably for a moment, and then opened the catch of the high-collared blouse before replying. ‘‘I suppose it’s a delayed reaction to what happened this afternoon.’’

‘‘I suppose,’’ Canidy said. ‘‘Well, hell, it’s over. Or did something happen when you reported to the skipper? That is why you’re all dressed up?’’

That innocent question produced another strange look.

‘‘No. I mean to say, he accepted my explanation that it was nothing more than an unscheduled, precautionary landing. ’’

‘‘Lying is like fucking, Eddie,’’ Canidy said. ‘‘The first time is sometimes difficult, but after a while you get used to it.’’

The drinks were served. Canidy downed his and reached for the fresh one.

‘‘Have you ever thought of selling your Ford?’’ Bitter asked.

‘‘What brought that up?’’ Canidy asked.

‘‘Well,’’ Bitter said, uncomfortable, ‘‘when I saw the skipper, he told me I’m being considered for a temporary duty assignment at NAS Anacostia.’’

‘‘And?’’

‘‘I thought I’d sell my car before I went,’’ Bitter said. ‘‘And if you sold your Ford, and needed a car, I could make you a good price.’’

‘‘What are you going to do at NAS Anacostia?’’ Canidy asked innocently.

‘‘I . . . uh . . . really haven’t been told,’’ Bitter said.

‘‘Christ, I hope you were more convincing, not that it really matters, when you lied to the skipper about your altitude when your engine quit,’’ Canidy said.

‘‘What do you mean?’’ Bitter demanded sharply.

Canidy put his fingers to his temples. ‘‘Confucius say,’’ he said, ‘‘ ‘Every man fly P40-B once for first time.’ "

Bitter was genuinely surprised that Canidy knew.

‘‘Keep your voice down. Someone is liable to hear you.’’

‘‘I’ve got bad news for you, Eddie,’’ Canidy said.

‘‘What’s that?’’

‘‘That since I signed on about an hour before you did, I’m going to outrank you in the Chinese Air and Rickshaw Service, too.’’

THREE

Pensacola Naval Air Station Pensacola, Florida 9 June 1941

There was a little slop time written into the primary training program, slack time between the cross-country flight and the graduation ceremony on the last Friday of the training period when the students would get their wings. Things went wrong. Bad weather could delay training flights; students or instructors could become ill. But if everything went according to schedule, there were anywhere from three to four days with nothing for instructor pilots to do.

IPs would check in at 0730 with the primary flight skipper, and he would then tell them to take off. That meant spending the day playing golf, or lying on the incredibly white beaches of the Gulf of Mexico, or just hanging around the BOQ.

Ed Bitter and Dick Canidy reported for duty the day after their meeting with General Chennault fully expecting to be told by the skipper to take off. But that didn’t happen.

‘‘Don’t ask me what it’s all about,’’ the skipper told them, ‘‘because I don’t know. All I know is that your services are required by the admiral for the rest of the week. You’re to call his aide.’’