American Front

Flying a combat patrol was nothing like being trained on a new aero plane. Moss had discovered that when he'd made the transition from the Su per Hudson to the Wright 17, and now found out all over again. When you were in training, you were concentrating on your aeroplane and learning its idiosyncrasies. When you were up here on patrol, all you cared about was the other fellow's aeroplane, with your own reduced in your thoughts to a tool you'd use to shoot him down.

He spotted the Avro in that newfangled rear-view mirror. It had probably been flying a reco

Its pilot spotted him and tried to bank away, which also gave the observer a better shot at him. He dove and then climbed rapidly. All he had to do was point his aeroplane's nose at the enemy and squeeze the firing button on his machine gun. He'd practiced shooting during training, but having the bullets miss the prop still seemed half like black magic to him.

The Avro was still trying to manoeuvre into a position from which it could effectively defend itself. He kept firing, playing the stream of bullets as if they were water from a hose. All at once, the Avro stopped dodging and nosed toward the ground. As he had with his first kill, back when the war was young, he must have put the pilot out of action. The observer kept shooting long after he had any hope of scoring a hit. Martin respected his courage and wondered what he was thinking about during the long dive toward death.

He looked around to see if he could spot any more British or Canadian aeroplanes. He saw none, but all his flightmates were close by. He hadn't noticed them coming to his aid; he'd been thinking about the Avro, nothing else.

Dudley, I

The U.S. Army sergeant doing paymaster duty shoved a dollar and a half across the table at Cinci

Don't usually see him give a Negro anything close to an even break, was what he meant. Cinci

"Yeah, that ain't a bad way to look at things," the sergeant agreed. "But you made Ke

"My wife's go

He was about halfway home when it started to rain. Herodotus and a couple of the other Negroes with whom he was walking ducked under an awning for protection. The awning, conveniently for them, was in front of a saloon. They went on inside. Cinci

When he walked past Conroy's general store, he looked in through the window, as he often did. One lone white man was in there with the storekeeper. After a second glance, Cinci

Ke

"Hello, Cinci

But Ke

"Glad you stopped in," Ke

"Is that a fact?" Cinci

Ke

"Not so you'd notice," Cinci

"Nothing like that," Ke

"You already got a wagon and a driver, you don't need me, Mr. Ke

"Get back here," Conroy snapped as Cinci

Cinci

Impasse. Conroy glanced at Cinci

"You can trust me?" Cinci

Conroy looked as if he'd just taken a big bite out of a Florida lemon. Tom Ke