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Show Flying - 92 CHAPTER VII Weary after a week on the road, John Henry unrolls his sleeping bag on the hardwood floor of the gymnasium at Edwards Air Force Base. All about him lies the Fifty-third, spread from basket to basket and bleacher to bleacher on the basketball court, lying on wrestling mats in one corner, curled up under the vaulting horses and parallel bars in another. John Henry shakes the sand out of his clothes and folds them under his head for a pillow, empties more sand out of his boots and lines them up neatly beside him. A magic place, Edwards Air Base. Home of all the Jimmy Stewart Air Force films. Muroc dry lake and the far up flights of the X-15. Jimmy Stewart always winds up dead and the fighter planes come over the little white cottage in the missing-man formation. June Allyson stands crying quietly in the doorway. Lined up in the picture window are the weeping faces of blond children. He gave his life for God and Country. An arm across his eyes to shut out the sports-bright lights, John Henry looks down the paths of glory. All around him the Fifty-third settles down to sleep in even rows, five hundred olive-green pods lying dormant, ready to blossom into life at a single gesture. An obedient crop. |