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The flight surgeon tested whether he could move the throttle. Nobody tested whether he could hold it.
By March Captain Ben Maddox has extended twice. His burned left hand grips at a third of the strength of his right, and Sergeant Kessler has built up the throttle with a block of hardwood so he can still fly. The detachment is down to two airplanes. Minh works a control centre forty-one miles away, and Lieutenant Robert Sloan has stopped sounding like Maddox and started sounding like himself.
Then the haze comes up off the plain and flattens everything, and on the twenty-fourth a district force called Hatchet has a relief column ambushed on the road south-west of its town. By mid-morning the fights do not fit together, and Maddox has to decide what the detachment can still afford to spend.
