Pursuit — A Reader’s Guide
Edition facts
The source record for Pursuit — A Reader’s Guide measures this digital text at 13,197 words, 58 min estimated reading time, and 2 detected text sections.
The text analysis averages about 15.1 words per sentence, while the detected sections provide another way to judge how the source is divided.
Project Gutenberg metadata also associates the work with “Air pilots, Military -- Fiction,” connecting these edition facts with the source record’s subject description.
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- Title & short description10 pts
- Source metadata20 pts
- Text length15 pts
- Chapters / structure15 pts
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Total of 100 points, scaled to a 2.5-5.0 range. Editions with an empty description or a missing EPUB file are not scored.
Read the Text
what you make it--between drinks. And right now and here--no drinking, boys, except at mess and between meals.
“Look around now. Get to know the mechanics. Treat ’em right--the mechanics--and they’ll treat you right. Don’t ever forget to remember that air battles are won on the ground. You know, they say a celebrity is only a dub to his valet. That’s the way up here. A cocky pilot finishes fast and quick on these strange airways. I know because I’ve lost several pilots in battle who were never game enough to get out of the weeds. Why, to get them, an enemy pilot would have to use telepathy.
“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, boys, and report for mess in clothes. That’s all the orders we have here. If you salute me, I’ll credit you with a gold star. If you don’t salute me, I’ll never hold it against you. This old uniform of mine is a disgraceful affair and by all rights does not rate a salaam. Go; come when you’re in trouble.”
The three saluted us though it were a pleasure, and went out.
“If the Trente-Neuf is like its C.O,” Langdon said to his flying mates, “this dump’s going to be a home. Guess we can work here.”
For anybody looking for work, the place could supply the limit. Having heard that the air branch was the eyes of the Army, the Artillery, Infantry--and even the Medical Corps, through force of bad habit--were incessantly asking for observations. They did not care much what was observed, but they liked to keep the Air Service in hot water. These old line branches know how easy it is to loaf when it rains, or the fog gets too heavy; so they figure that, being the highest branch of the Service, aviation should do its stuff while others sleep. And the young branch, extending itself to the limit, made those observations; flew when flying was out of the question, and sacrificed men when men were scarce.
That evening, by low candles in the Trente-Neuf’s mess, Langdon and his two mates met the outfit. Except for one, it was easy to know. That one, Lieutenant Charles Mudd, F.F.V., A.S., U.S.R., was hard for Langdon to meet because he had met him before.
F.F.V. Mudd and Langdon had both been assigned to the 10th Aero Squadron for shipment overseas. Together, at Mitchel Field, they had reported in to the 10th’s old topkick, Sergeant Benton; and upon reporting, when the 10th’s C.O. was absent, the Old Man had had them sign the register. Langdon had signed first, and in a self-conscious way.
“Put down your rank, Lieutenant,” Sergeant Dad Benton had said. “There’s no misters in this man’s Army. Put down your ‘Lieutenant, First’, and your ‘A.S., U.S.R’.”
Next, Lieutenant Mudd signed. But first he found a resting place for his swagger stick, and deposited his gold tipped cigaret on the edge of Dad’s blotter. And when that baby signed, he signed--and how!
“First Lieutenant Charles Surry Mudd, F.F.V., A.S., U.S.R.”
“What the hell’s all this ‘F.F.V.’ stuff?” the old sergeant quizzed.
“That, suh, is, First Families of Virginia,” Lieutenant Charles Surry Mudd answered.
Of course, his tone of voice was the tone that should be used when a lieutenant speaks to an enlisted man. And it went just about as far as the talk of a lieutenant usually goes with an enlisted man. The old sergeant, with a stroke of the broad pen, struck out the F.F.V.
“There are no F.F.V’s in this man’s Army, Lieutenant Mudd.”
Lieutenant Charles Surry Mudd stepped back. His pale face grew even paler. The sensitive lips and chin quivered, and the flesh above his knees prickled within their well tailored confines. His breath came hard, his eyes flooded, then the proud youth fell to chewing his lower lip. The Army, uncouth thing that it is, had taken him for another ride.
Finally, deciding against mixing with a lowly sergeant, Lieutenant Mudd retrieved his swagger stick and cigaret, and strode to the door. He hesitated upon the threshold long enough to say--
“I’ll report this, Sawgent.”
“Report and be damned,” the old topkick mused, and closed the register.
Jack Langdon, a pursuit pilot at the combat school in Issoudun, is ordered to report for De Havilland training at Romorantin—a transfer he greets with open defiance. “I’m not quitting pursuit,” he insists, vowing to fight “a la chasse—right on the other guy’s tail” no matter where he is assigned. The story’s opening establishes a central tension between the pilot’s identity and his new role, a conflict that drives the narrative forward.
The language of the excerpts is colloquial and period-specific, with terms like “bon school,” “star boner,” and “strafe” grounding the dialogue in the slang of WWI aviators. Caffrey’s prose favors brisk, declarative sentences and vivid similes—comparing a DH plane to a “ten ton truck” and its maneuverability to an “Otis elevator”—that convey the tactile reality of early military aviation.
The Language of the Air Service
The excerpts are rich with the specialized vocabulary of WWI aviation, a lexicon that Caffrey uses to build authenticity and character. Terms like “chasse” (pursuit), “two-seaters,” “observation outfits,” and “De Havilland” are dropped without explanation, assuming a reader familiar with the milieu. The dialogue is peppered with period slang: “she’s a bon school,” “pin this in your hat,” “star boner,” “strafe,” and “the quick are always right in war.” This language does more than flavor the text; it marks characters as insiders—or, in Mudd’s case, as outsiders who reject the pursuit flyer’s ethos.
Caffrey also uses simile to bridge the unfamiliar world of flying with more common experiences. The DH plane handles “like heavy duty trucks on old rubber,” and its maneuverability is compared to an “Otis elevator.” These comparisons ground the technical in the tangible, making the pilot’s frustration palpable. The repeated contrast between “pursuit” and “two-seater” becomes a refrain, reinforcing Langdon’s sense of exile.
Command, Discipline, and the Individual Pilot
The story explores a recurring tension between official orders and the pilot’s instinct for aggressive action. Langdon’s transfer is presented as an impersonal bureaucratic decision: “headquarters—Air Service, S.O.S. Tours—was no respecter of individuals.” Yet Major Mack, when confronted with Langdon’s unauthorized strafing run, offers a nuanced response. He refuses to sanction the action officially—“I am not authorizing, sanctioning or legalizing future side trips”—but acknowledges the “finesse of the thing” and admits that, in Langdon’s place, he would have done the same.
This ambivalence is crystallized in Mack’s maxim: “Orders, the best orders ever made, were only made to be broken. And so long as they are broken without going into the red, when it’s all over, there’s no kick coming.” The passage suggests a command culture that winks at rule-breaking when it produces results. Lieutenant Mudd, by contrast, insists on “unbending discipline,” representing the opposing pole. The story thus sets up a conflict not just between Langdon and his assignment, but between two philosophies of military conduct.
The Observer as Partner or Afterthought
A key thread in the excerpts is Langdon’s difficulty adapting to flying with an observer. His first mission with Bob Akeley ends with Akeley’s death, and Langdon admits, “Observers weren’t in my first schooling, sir.” He acts without consulting Akeley, then reports that Akeley urged him on: “Go back and give ’em hell!” Major Mack’s response—“I thought that was it!”—implies that Akeley was a willing participant, but the incident raises questions about responsibility and teamwork.
The introduction of Lieutenant Samter, an observer who “can do things with that rear machine gun” and who wants to fight rather than merely observe, hints at a possible resolution. Samter is presented as a kindred spirit, one who might bridge the gap between Langdon’s pursuit instincts and the demands of two-seater flying. The excerpts do not reveal whether this partnership succeeds, but they establish that the observer’s role—whether passive or aggressive—is a central concern of the narrative.
Readers should attend to how Caffrey balances technical detail with character-driven conflict. The story’s brevity (under 14,000 words) means that every scene carries weight; the dialogue, in particular, does double duty by advancing plot and revealing personality. Notice how the author uses the friction between Langdon and his superiors to question what makes a good pilot—and what makes a good soldier. The excerpts leave several threads unresolved, including the fate of Langdon’s partnership with Samter, making the full text worth seeking out for its resolution.
I keep coming back to Jack Langdon’s quiet fury in Pursuit, how a man learns that love of the hunt can soften into patience. It reminds me, oddly, of watching a cat—those same fierce, coiled instincts, tamed by habit and hearth. Both stories hold that tender ache of adapting, without ever truly surrendering. The life and adventures of a cat — Themes and Context sits beside it on my shelf, a familiar whisper of that same truth.
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