MEN WITH WINGS

Radio Record, Volume XII, Issue 33, 27 January 1939, Page 21

MEN WITH WINGS

ThE_ TEcHNIcaLor QF The BASED On E5a8 PASEROUMT 5 E SAME

SYNOPSIS. Peggy Ranson, 8, and her two friends, Scott Barnes, nephew of Hiram FF. Jenkins, newspaper editor, and. Pat Falconer, son of a wealthy banker, both 10, have a mutual inter est-aviation. When . her father, Nick Ranson, quits his job on the newspaper after the Wright brothers have flown for the first time on December 17, 1908, to build his own aeroplane, their enthusiasm mouuts. They build a kite in which Peggy flies and crashes. This is a small setback to their dreams, dwarfed even more when Peggy's father is killed when his plane dives to the ground. Scott and Pat console Peggy. CHAPTER II. N spite of the death. of Nick Ranson,-the enthusiasm which ‘Pezgy, Seott. and Pat. had . for flying _ continued to grow. ‘The years ‘from 1904 until: 1914° were "eventful ones in aviation. © At. Los Angeles, the first successful: meet was held. Bleriot flew" the English ‘Channel. Galbraith P. Rodgers crossed the United States. Eugene Ely landed and took off from a battleship. Louis Paulhan flew. cross-country from London to Manchester, in England. Aeroplane speed approached one hundred miles an hour. ‘Everyone, everywhere, was discussing the fact that man had wings-and was wondering how good they were. In fact, aeroplanes had become so practical that they were being considered as implements of war. Several of the larger countries of ‘the world had a hundred or more ships, while the United States had but twenty-five. A drive was made in Congress to secure the princely sum of 300,000 dollars to buy more equipment, the plea being made that in America, where the first powered flight by man in a heavier-than-air machine had been made, the pioneering spirit was being lost and that interest was lagging. Peggy, Scott and Pat were not among the laggards. As Congress considered vast expenditures, they were scraping ‘together small sums to buy material for their latest ship, a trim monoplane designed by Scott, and were working on it night and day. The trio still worked in the Ranson shed, with the models which Nick Ranson had left behind him to inspire them and guide them. There were a few added gadgets, including a wind tunnel in which they tested models to see how airworthy they were. The new plane was

nearly completed one night. Pegg sewed ‘wings while Scott urged Pat to keep turning the fan at the end of the tunnel as he tested a small model. 7 "She'll be assembled tomorrow," said Scott, finally, indicating the sleek little ship. , "And I’ll fly her day after tomor-row-if it’ll fly," said Pat, brightening at the news. "Don’t worry ubout ‘that," Scott told him. "I’ve failed twice-but I’ve quit guessing. ° I know what itll do." ot "Don’t tell us," admonished Peggy. "Let us see for ourselves." "T wish your father. could be here to see it," Pat said. "He’d be having more fun than any.of-us. If he hadn’t had to. pioneer-to die---if, he could have had that wind tunnel to show him what it’s showing: us, he would. be here." They worked silently. after. ‘that, unmindful that Martha Ranson; Peggy’s mother, listened at the door with mingled emotions-the thrill of their enthusiasm and their accomplishments and. the apprehension she felt when memory brought back to her the picture of Nick Ranson’s tragic death. They were unmindful, too, of time. They were feverishly excited as they worked far into the night, started again early the next morning, and that day hurried into the next. Finally they got the white monoplane to a field, on the outskirts of Underwood. Scott, true to his promise, let Pat taxi about the plain, get the feel of the ship and its controls, finally rise into the air. Then Scott took them. Slowly but surely they mastered the bird of their creation. Finally, they were ready for the most important thing of all-the speed tests. Their control of the ship perfected, they marked off a course, measured it. Pat got into the ship, checked the motor and warmed it thoroughly. He made sure that the stop watch, hung around his neck on a chain, was in proper working order. Then he took off gracefully. He climb-rd for some distance, banked to put himself into position for the course, dived, levelled off at a hundred feet. Frightened cattle raced for cover. On a nearby road horses drawing a surrey bolted. Peggy and Scott stood on the ground near the first course marker, their heads up, their eyes shining. -Peggy’s hands, scarred from sewing on the wing. covers, were clasped as if in ‘prayet: So fascinated were

they in the performance of the little craft that they were unmindful of the automobile that skidded to a stop on the road. which ran beside the field. They didn’t see that almost before it stopped rolling the driver was out of his seat and that he hurried across the field to them. The man stumbled, bumped against Peggy. "’Seuse me," he mumbled, abgently. Peggy didn’t look at him. Pat raced off the course, banked, returned to his original position, repeated his level dash over the field. Then he turned once more, idled his motor and flew in for a perfect landing on- the rough, bumpy pasture, Peggy and Scott ran to the plane as fast as they could go. .Each grabbed a wing tip and helped steer the little ship to a Stop. The stranger joined in, helping to swing the tail, but still wasn’t noticed. "She flew like a dream!" Pat yelled from the cockpit. "When you see it in the air," Peggy called, "you. realise how pretty it is!" "Does the tail assembly still flutter when she’s wide open?" asked Scott tensely. . Pat leaped to the ground. "Nope-she’s tight as a drum

now," he reported. He passed the stop watch to Scott, who calculated rapidly with pencil and paper. The others waited breathlessly as he stared at his figures. "Ninety-six miles an hour!" he gasped. "We can break the world’s speed record! We've broken it!" He looked up, and for the first time saw the stranger, who was now climbing into the cockpit of the plane. He nudged Pat, who, in turn, nudged Peggy. All: looked, puzzled, at the interloper. Suddenly, as if conscious of what he was doing and their scrutiny, he turned. He jumped down, hurried to them, his face red with embarrassment. "J-beg your pardon," he faltered. "I should have introduced myself. I’m J. A. Nolan. TI build planes." , "Not the Nolan!" exclaimed Scott, awe in his voice. He immediately introduced the others and himself. "Where’d you get the idea for that fuselage-that cantilever wing -that motor cowling?" Nolan asked Scott, "He thought them up," Peggy replied, proudly. "He had a year at Massachusetts Institute of Technology." Nolan turned to Scott. "Look here, Barnes!’ he snapped.

"How'd. you like to go to work for me-designing aeroplanes?" .- . "Will’ you hire. PatMy.. -Falconer?" Scott asked. "Yes," Nolan agreed. "Then I’d like the job," Scott decided. Nolan asked to fly the monoplane. Pat and Scott gave him permission. When he landed he reported that he had confirmed his snap judgment made when driving by the field quite by chance-that it was the fastest and most practical thing with wings he had ever seen. Then, after making arrangements for Pat and Scott to come to work, he left the field. Seott, now a newspaper reporter, Pat .and Peggy hurried ‘to the offices of the Underwood Daily Record and informed Hiram Jenkins that Underwood now was the home of the fastest aeroplane in the world. They told him, also, that Nolan had given Pat and Scott jobs, and that Seott was resigning his position with the newspaper. , "ll not stand in your. way," Hiram said. "How-about you?" he demanded, eyeing Peggy. . "My ‘part of it is over, I guess,", she answered. "You can start learnin’ to cook, now," Hiram suggested. "I’m afraid so," she said, glumly. Hank Rinebow, the city editor, entered Hiram’s office and blurted something about a Huropean \ war story. . "Shut up!" Hiram stormed. "Scott has the world’s fastest aeroplane, he quits, Scot: and Pat have jobs, and I’ve got to write the story." He began scrawling on a piece of _ paper, looked up, saw, the trio ‘standing awkwardly watching him. He stopped writing. A soft, rather shy expression crossed his face. Then, abruptly, he stiffened, banged his fist’ down on his desk, demanded: "Well — what’re you hangin’ around here for? You ain’t in the newspaper business!" Slightly abashed, Scott looked at Pat, signalled toward the door. The trio filed out, leaving Hiram with Rinebow. Hiram paid no attention to his city editor for a while, continuing to write... Then he looked up. "How much time have we got -before we go to press?" he de. manded. "Twenty minutes," Hank replied. . "But we got to bust up. the front ‘ page?’?+* "Why?" asked Hiram, im , (Continued on next page.) ‘

"MEN WITH WINGS’

(Continued from previous page.)

"Because the Archduke Ferdinand has been assasinated at Sara-jevo-that’s why! I’ve been trying to tell you." Hiram turned again to his work of writing the story about Scott and Pat. He asked, absently, as he made a clucking sound with his tongue and the roof of his mouth: "Did he have a family?" Rinebow leaned over the desk. "This may mean war,’ he predicted. Hiram tried to concentrate, "Get out of here!" he ordered. Rinebow slowly began to lose his temper. "You mean you’re not going to print it?" he asked. *That’s exactly what | mean," said Hiram, slapping his hand on ‘the desk. "The Record circulates in Underwood, not Serbia! ’'m writin’ the story of the fastest aeroplane in the woridmade by three Underwoc" citizens. That’s news. He clapped a hand to his head dramatically, closed his eyes. "Wait-I’m gettin’ the headline!" Hank Rinebow’s glare at his employer revealed his complete disgust. He turned, stalked out of the room. Hiram, not knowing he had gone, yelled: "Wait! Wait! I got it! LOCAL BOY BREAKS SPEED RECORD IN AEROPLANE BUILT BY LOCAL BOY!" He uncovered his eyes, expepcting the applause of Rinebow. He was surprised that Hank had left him in this moment of inspiration’s birth. CHAPTER IV. THE Nolan Aircraft factory was "nothing to write home about, Pat Falconer and Seott Barnes found. But this made no difference to them, nor did the dusty, bumpy field, the ramshackle building, the two canvas hangars. Scott spent all of his time in the drafting room, drawing his plans, building his models and testing them in the wind tunnel. One of the first friends he made was Joe Gibbs, huge, easy-going, able mechanic who had a strange ability to be efficient thaugh awkward. After they had worked together some time, Scott pointed out the features of the new wing he had designed, which was gradually taking shape. "No struts, or wires, or anything to support it," he explained. "Nothing to impede the flow of air over it." -"How’d you get the idea of building a wing like that?" Gibbs asked, wonderingly, his gravelly voice eracking. "Just went out and took a look at a steel bridge," Scott replied. "That’s the kind of construction we need," Joe studied the wing more closely. "Yeah, i guess you're right, " he said, finally. ‘But I ain’t seen anybody flyin’ around here in a bridge lately." At the same time Pat, impeccably attired as usual, was "doping" a wing in another part of the factory -and coming in for a different type of "razzing." Bored and unhappy, he was plying the brush over the wing in slow, fastidious strokes as Baker, the foreman, came up behind him. For several seconds Baker stood watching him, hands on hips, scowl creasing his hard face. Other. workers started grinning as -Baker confronted Pat, reached out for his tie. "Falconer," he said, sarcastically, "T think you’ve got a spot on your tie," At the same instant he grabbed the tie, jerked it, choked Pat. Pat gulped, reached up, loosened it, at the same time leaning forward and peering into the foreman’s face. "Baker," he replied, deliberately, *T think you've got a spot on-your nose," , Gently but effectively he brushed the "dope" loaded

_ bristles over Baker’s face. The foreman spluttered, wiped the sticky compound away, aimed a punch at Pat. Pat was quicker, however, He uncorked a fast, short right and Baker went down. Some of the workmen rushed to his assistance. Pat whirled around, backed against a bench and prepared for action. At that instant, Scott and Joe Gibbs waiked into the big room, saw what was happening, and flanked Pat. Baker rose groggily to his feet. "You’re fired, Falconer!" he rasped, lunging at him. "I’m gonna throw you out myself." Joe Gibbs took a wide-open apportunity to try a backhand, which sent Baker sprawling again, He said, mildly: "Now stop that... ." Nolan, hearing the disturbance, rushed from his office, joined the militant group, demanded to know

what was going on. Baker said that he had criticised Pat’s work and that Pat had struck him. Nolan turned to Pat. "You're through, Faiconer," he said. "That includes me," snapped Scott. "Me, too," Gibbs announced, as he began peeling off his overalls. Nolan took a conciliatory attitude when he saw that Scott was serious. Scott refused to listen to his overtures until Pat said to him: "Listen, Scotty-this is my fight. After we get out of here, you'll be sorry and I won't. I’ve got to have a little excitement in my life-and I can’t get it in an aeroplane factory. I’d rather take ’em apart in the air than put ’em together on the ground." He grinned, gave his pal’s chin a friendly cuff, "T see," said Scott, quietly. He turned te Nolan... .. "He’s right," he said. "I'll stay. % Pat thanked him, thanked Joe, walked out of the factory, across the field. He hurried home, As he reached the palatial Falconer home he picked up the newspaper which. a carrier tossed on to the lawn. He stared at the headlines for a moment, read:

"LUFBERY SCORES FIFTH VICTORY IN AIR! Member of LaFayette Escadrille Becomes an Ace" He clutched the paper tightly in his hand. His eyes narrowed and his face hardened with sudden resolution as he hurried into the house. He found it deserted. He packed his bags quickly, hurried to the street again, noticed for the first time that it was now dark, that a storm was impending. So serious had been his decision, so excited was he over the new world which he had found, that he paid no attention to the rolling thunder, the flashes of lightning. He finally reached the Ranson home, went to the shed, gave a low, peculiar whistle. A moment later he saw Pegay running toward him. She stopped abruptly, stared at the bags he carried. "J-I haven't said good-bye to anyone else," he said. "I don’t know how to say good-bye to you." ‘‘Where-where are you going?" Peggy asked, her hand flying to her throat, covering it apprehensively. "To France," he replied.

"No-don’t go," Peggy gasped, a catch in her voice. Thunder rolled heavily, there was a flash of lightning and the first raindrops began falling. Pat seized Peggy’s arm, dragged her out of the storm into the shed. "Better talk to Scotty first," she pressed. "T’ve got to get out of here," Pat replied, nervously. "This is a funny way te be saying good-bye, isn’t it-hiding and everything, like I was escaping from prison." "Maybe-that’s what it is," said Peggy, biting her lips, Pat broke the silence which fol‘lowed with: "Would you care if I kissed you?" "i'd care if you didn’t" she repiled, quickly. Ciumsily, boyishly, he kissed her. Then he turned quickly away, picked up his bags, turned for a last look at her. "Good-bye," he said softly. "Good-bye, Pat," Peggy whispered. Pat turned, hurried away. Peggy iooked after him, for a moment uncertain what to do. Then she made up her mind, pulled her shawl over her head, dashed out into the storm, going a different direction-to Scott Barnes’s home, She ran to a window on

the first floor where a light burned, saw Scott working over a drafting board, rapped on the glass. Astonished when he saw her white, drawn face, he rose at her summons, met her on the front porch. He asked ner what had happened. "Pat-is-running-away-"’ she gasped. . She managed to tell him that Pat was going to wr and that he probably would be catching the eight-thirty train. He pulled his coat collar around his neck, told her to follow him, and started in the direction of the station. Peggy followed as best she could but fell far behind. Scott reached the station to hear the fading sound of the engine and see the last, dim flicker of the red running lights of the last car. He waited for Peggy. _ When she arrived, she looked after the train, then at Scott. She burst into tears. There was heartbreak in her voice as she said: "He’s been gone five minutesand I’m lonely." Slowly, with infinite gentleness, Scott put his arm around her shoulders, a gesture of understanding, commiseration, protection. Her head dropped on his chest and she sobbed uncontrollably. He fought to keep the Pain he felt from showing on his face, That moment marked a change in three lives. The world suddenly speeded up, leisure hours vanished, as one by one the great nations of the world found themselves embroiled in the greatest conflict the world had ever known. Pat went to France, won his way into a French pursuit squadron, covered himself with glory from the very first with his inherent bravery, his love of danger and thrills. Scott Barnes, just as true to type, gave his entire attentior to designing better, faster, more practical aeroplanes. With production increasing by leaps and bounds at the Nolan factory, and with too few flyers available, he found himself testing his own experimental ships. Typical of the haste of the day was the order that Nolan issued just after Scott had sent the latest test plane through a series of dives and other manoeuvres to learn its airworthiness. "The ship’s okay and you can start production to-morrow," Scott told Nolan when he landed and the factory workers crowded around him. "What do you mean, to-morrow?" Nolan demanded. "We've got two hours yet to-day." He turned to the men surrounding him. "Get back in that factory!" he bellowed. Nolan knew, and Scott knew, and so did millions of others that the United States was going to be forced into the World War. Cn April 6, 1917, black ink smeared over the front pages of every newspaper in the country-even the front page of the Underwood "Daily Record"-announced that the U.S.A. would fight Germany. For once, even Hiram Jenkins recognised news when he saw it, although he was heartbroken at the same time by news that Peggy’s mother, Martha Ransom, had died suddenly of heart disease. That left Peggy alone-an orphan. Only Scott Barnes was at hand to comfort her. After the funeral, Peggy told him: "How frightened I’d be, Scott, if I were ever in trouble or worried and I looked around-and you weren't there." She sat down on a.coucéh in the living-room of her modest home as she spoke. © "T’ll always be around, bothering you," Scott promised. "You don't bother me," Peggy told him. "No-I guess I don’t-" he said. He looked away. "I wish I did." The conversation turned to Pat. Scott said he’d received a letter from him-that he’d shot down his third German. "You're very proud of him, aren’t you?" she said. "Well, I brag a little bit," Scott admitted. "Why don’t you brag about yourself?" Peggy asked. "Because there’s nothing to --" "But there is!" cut in Peggy. "The aeroplane you built for Mr. Nolan-the Government taking you

into the army and making you an officer." "It’s not important-they make nearly everyone who can fly an officer-you see?" "I see a lot of things," Peggy replied. "There are two of you. One stays and does important things and cares. And one goes away-and doesn’t care-and I’m all wrong and 1 can’t help it." "No one’s ever wrong about things like that,’ Scott said, very seriously. Peggy rose. Her voice broke as she said: "Scott-I wish you bothered me -I wish it so much!" "T know, Peggy,’ Scott replied, slowly. "Where we made our mistake was in growing up." (To be continued.)