"Eric Flint & David Weber - 1634 - The Baltic War42" - читать интересную книгу автора (Flint Eric)

Jesse had kept trying, even to the point of resigning as a partner in the aircraft firm, but it hadn't been
enough. The powers-that-be, in their wisdom, had seen fit to authorize assistance to both firms in the
form of "a suitable building, strategic materials, and such labor and facilities as are deemed necessary by
the strategic resources board for aircraft construction." And so, while Hal and his workers had used the
assistance to move construction of the "Gustav" model into high gear, the Kelly Aircraft Company had
moved into their new digs—and, so far at least, had shown precious little for it.
But it was a done deal, so Jesse let it go. He turned his attention to the aircraft shelters he was passing,
five completed now and one in progress. Three had aircraft in them, a Belle and two of the new Gustavs,
low wing, powerful looking birds. Their ground crews were still working on them in the lowering
sunlight, busy, purposeful. The Belle ground crew was fueling their aircraft from a horse drawn fuel
bowser. At the next shelter over, the crewchief of Gustav I, Sergeant Hiram Winters, noticed Jesse and
raised a hand. Jesse smiled and raised his own hand in greeting before he moved on.
Good kids, he smiled. Good aircraft. Thank you, God, for both.
He neared an airman lounging on a small tractor near the landing zone. With two hundred and thirty-five
men and women now on the rolls, he no longer worried about manpower to work on the field, though the

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 - Chapter 1

constant effort required brought to memory the old British secret for a nice lawn: good seed, plenty of
water, and rolled daily for three hundred years. To that end, the tractor had a roller in tow. Filling in and
smoothing out the ruts made in the runway's landing zone was a routine end-of-flying-day chore. He
waved his hand down as the young man made to get off his machine.
"Good evening, Airman . . ." He looked for the airman's nametag.
"Guten abend, Herr Oberst. Mein name ist Fleischer. 'Gus' Fleischer."
"Fleischer." Jesse put his hands in the small of his back and stretched. "Waiting for the last aircraft?"
"Jawohl . . . I mean, 'Yes sir,' " Fleischer replied.
Jesse checked his watch. "Soon, I think. How long have you been with us, Fleischer?"
"Drei, uh, three month, Herr Colonel," Fleischer said slowly.
"And driving already, huh? Very good."
"Yes, sir." The young man lifted his chin. "I will be a pilot, someday." He lifted his arm and pointed.
"Look, Herr Oberst! Er kommt!"
"Yes, he does," said Jesse, watching the Belle III slide over the field boundary and touch down. He
clapped the airman on the shoulder. "Study hard, Gus, eh?"
"Ja, Colonel!" The young German nodded, started the tractor, and drove off proudly to his duty.

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Framed




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- Chapter 2

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