The pilot swings the heavy plane sideways, and then he pulls the nose up again. Then he banks to the side and lifts the nose of the airplane again, and in that way, he manages to fling the men this way and that way so that they are like bullets in a turning vat. They shout, strain, and swear, but the pilot keeps wiggling the plane’s wings until all the men are lying in a heap. Then, finally, he straightens out the plane again, and they fly onwards towards where the Atlas Mountains are rising blue and majestic out of the grey haziness.
Catroux and the Legion men crawl out from under the foreign soldiers and get up, gasping, swearing, and so tired that they can hardly put one foot in front of the other. In the cockpit door, the officer stands with a big Luger revolver and his finger on the
