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WACO 35

he raised his boots, kicked over the impressive looking Corporation desk re-finished by hours of work, and above Buddie's frightened cry and the noise shouted, W.A.A.KO! The Air Service yell that lasted after the War, whooped from Chicago Bus tops on Michigan Boulevard to those still in khaki.

The boys used lye to bring out the mahogany finish on the Waco-Cootie. Allittle late, I persuade George at least to use a brush after he got some in his eyes,fortunately not injuring his sight.

When the Waco-Cootie was finished the propellor was long overdue. It arrived on a typical Great Lakes gloomy day, so I felt I better keep Buddie in though I wanted to see the test hop.

About five p.m. someone phoned to say "Buck has broken his nose in a forced landing. He'll be home soon." My experience at camp about broken "jennie" noses hel my fears down, must have plenty of nourishing liquids for a while. I sat in the rocker by the front window, Buddie on my lap.

A taxi drove up, Sam got out carrying George's leather coat, someone else his boots, several fellows pilled, out  reached into the cab, "Oh God," "my heart screamed," not his body." The men came in, without George. Sam first, I had jumped up forgetting Buddie not a year old on my lap, dropped him. Sam ran past me, tears streaming, down cellar where he loudly cried his heart out. Someone picked little Buddie up, I could hardly ask, "Is George dead?" I was having a terrible chill, and shivering so uncontrollably someone sat me on the stairs. Clayt said, George wasn't dead, but hurt worse than thought at first. Clayt chalk white picked me up took me up to the