The Last Heroes (Men at War 1)

‘‘I didn’t know him.’’

‘‘He was a flight leader in the First Squadron,’’ Crookshanks said. ‘‘I want you to take his place.’’ When Canidy did not reply, Crookshanks said, ‘‘It’s another seventy-five dollars a month.’’

‘‘OK,’’ Canidy said.

Martin Farmington returned early the next morning to Kunming on the back of a farmer’s cart, in time to be a hero at breakfast. He had crash-landed his plane, demolishing it, but aside from a couple of bruises and a cut on his arm from a sharp piece of canopy Plexiglas, he was unharmed.

Canidy was readying his plane for flight when Crookshanks came out to the line.

‘‘You’re not going,’’ he announced. ‘‘Can Bitter handle it?’’

‘‘Sure. But why not me?’’ Canidy asked.

‘‘Because there was a TWX from Chennault. He’s flying in here with some big shot. They want to talk to you.’’

‘‘He’s not going to make a production about that medal, is he?’’ Canidy asked.

‘‘All I know,’’ Crookshanks said, ‘‘is what the TWX said. And what it said is ‘Ground Canidy until further notice.’ ’’

TEN

Kunming, China 21 December 1941

Dick Canidy watched Brigadier General Claire Chennault walk across the tarmac from his Twin-Beech to where he and Commander Crookshanks stood waiting.

Chennault was wearing a horsehide leather jacket, a leather brimmed cap, from which the crown stiffener had been removed, and sunglasses. He also had a .45 hanging low, like a cowboy’s six-shooter, on his hip; and his feet were in half-Wellington boots. It was the pursuit pilot’s uniform, and Chennault was entitled. He had, literally, written the book. A thousand Army Air Corps, Marine, and Navy fighter pilots—including Ensign Richard Canidy—had been trained according to the theories Chennault had laid down in Pursuit Aviation. Before the war was over, tens of thousands of fighter pilots would be so trained. Chennault was the acknowledged expert.

But Chennault has never shot down an airplane, Canidy thought. I have. If Crookshanks’s spotters are to be believed, I have shot down five of them. I am therefore an ace. Since we have been in the war only two weeks, it is entirely possible that I am the only ace so far.

From everything he had heard, the fighter force in the Philippines and the Hawaiian Islands had been wiped out on the ground.

He wondered what Chennault wanted with him, and for the first time he considered it might very well have something to do with yesterday’s actions. God knows, he thought, the American public needs some good news. That an American had shot down five Japanese on his first sortie was good news. It was therefore possible that he was about to be shown off.

This theory seemed to be confirmed when he saw the briefcase-carrying civilian with Chennault. The man was American; he was clearly not one of the AVG civilians, and he was just as clearly not a soldier in civilian clothing. He looked to Canidy like a bureaucrat. A little overweight, pale, and more than a little self-important.

Crookshanks saluted when Chennault came close, and Canidy followed his example.

‘‘Good morning, General,’’ Crookshanks said. ‘‘This is Wingman Canidy.’’

Chennault offered Canidy his hand.

‘‘Canidy is one I recruited myself,’’ he said. ‘‘How are you, Canidy? How does it feel to be our first ace?’’

‘‘I’m not entirely sure the Chinese know how to count, General,’’ Canidy said.

‘‘They know how to count.’’ Chennault chuckled. ‘‘Damned well done, son.’’

‘‘Thank you, sir,’’ Canidy said.

‘‘This is Mr. Baker,’’ Chennault said. ‘‘Commander Crookshanks and Wingman Canidy.’’

They shook hands.

‘‘We need someplace to talk in private,’’ Chennault said.

"Would my office be all right, General?’’ Crookshanks asked.

‘‘If we can run everybody out and have some coffee,’’ Chennault said.