mercy, he just
happened to escape by walking between the enemy outposts. Farther
along, he saw the wreck of another of his planes. Then he came to a
third; it was smashed beyond hope. But its crew had already heard from
several other parties. They too had lost their B-25's to the fog, the
night and the crags. Doolittle realized then that everything was gone,
lives saved yes, but otherwise the expedition was a total ruin.

The Commander sat for a long time in the cockpit of the wrecked plane,
terribly depressed, thinking only of how totally he had failed.

At last one of the younger men, Sgt. Paul Leonard walked up to him and
said: "What's the matter, Colonel?"

Doolittle said: "It couldn't be worse. We've lost everything. We've
let the country down."

The kid said: "Why, Colonel, you've got this all wrong. You have no
idea how this looks to the United States. Don't you realize that right
now they're getting ready to make you a general? Why I'll make you a
bet they give you the Congressional Medal."

Doolittle thanked him. He thought it was a nice thing for the boy to
say. That kind of loyalty was worth having in a bad hour. The boy
started to walk away; he could tell that Doolittle didn't believe a
word of it. Then suddenly he turned and came on back.

"Colonel," he said, "I'd like to make a deal with you. Suppose I'm
right about it and you're wrong. So they give you a star and the
Congressional Medal. If that happens, will you agree to take me with
you wherever you go?"

Doolittle made him a solemn promise. Fresh courage came to him out of
the boy's tremendous earnestness.

And of course the boy was right, and the contract was kept, and all
things went well until, by a savage irony, Sgt. Leonard was killed in
the last German raid against Doolittle's headquarters in Europe
shortly before the war ended.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

USING REWARD AND PUNISHMENT

One of the illusions having greatest currency among our people is that
any green member of the fighting establishment is merely an American
civilian in a uniform, and that therefore, his spirit is nourished to
the extent that accommodations and usages of the service most nearly
duplicate what he has known elsewhere.

This belief is especially prevalent during wartime when every mother's
son puts on a new suit; it is natural to think that everything in the
service will better suit the boy if it smells like home. The corollary
of this rather quaint id