Description
Ditch!” He lit a cigarette and thought: “Nerves, my eye. I’ll go nuts away from here.”
Major Lester Harrison, Jerry’s idol and commander of his wing, was feeding shillings into a slot machine near the door, his cap suspended miraculously, apparently by one blond tuft of hair at the back of his head, an expression of deep concentration on his face. He was a big man, too handsome, square-jawed, with pale, deep-set flier’s eyes. and a close-clipped light mustache. Jerry had not dared to raise one like it, but he tried to copy the major in every- thing else. At twenty-three, Jerry Wright was an enchanting ado- pescent whose most serious contact with life up to that point had occurred in an airplane flying over enemy-held territory.
Reviews
There are no reviews yet.