A scrawny, gamely boy with a monocle struggled under the weight of his luggage into his room. Another young man sitting on his bed watched the efforts of his new roommate. Sighing the younger boy dropped his load.
"Well," he said happily. "This is it." Turning to the room's other occupant he stuck out his hand. "I'm Private Klink, I suppose we'll be roommates."
"I'm Sergeant Von Reichter," the other boy said amiably. He turned back to the book he was reading ignoring Klink's efforts of friendship.
"Ha-ha!" Klink laughed. "It's nice to meet you!" He took a step toward his new found friend, hooking his foot on his suitcase and crashing down to the floor. "Oh my!" Klink started hauling himself up again. "I'm terribly sorry I-"
"It's fine," Reichter cut him off.
"Oh I see," Klink lay down on his cot, the bed sagging in the middle due to lost springs. He struggled a little to find a more comfortable position. "So what got you into piloting school?" he asked, rolling around on the bunk.
Von Reichter watched Klink's efforts with disgust, but decided to join him in conversation. "My family comes from a long line of army men. My father and the father before him were soldiers."
"I see," Klink nodded, his head bobbing like a rooster. "My family is of old Prussian military descent, too. At first I wasn't going to join, I tried medicine and law. I unfortunately failed both these tests. I think it had to do with the teachers. They avoided me whenever I was around, obvious sign of jealousy. My father convinced me to go to into the military. My uncle helped, he's the Burgermeister's barber you know. I have so many family connections you wouldn't believe it."
Von Reichter listened a little to the boy's tale but, loosing interest turned back to his book. Klink, ignorant of his friend's actions babbled on happily.
Von Reichter began to despise Wilhelm Klink and so did most of the people in their class. As it was, Klink usually was put in charge of the control tower. The men convinced Klink that he had a rich baritone that echoed beautifully through the radio. So he would sit in the tower most days enunciating every word as best as he could, "Calling Messerschmitt 112, over."
One day, their instructors decided Klink needed a go at flying a plane. Reluctant Von Reichter was but into the plane behind Klink and was to instruct him. Being the best in the class Reichter was expected to help the other students.
"Ok Klink," Reichter patted his classmate on the back. "Let's go."
"Are you sure?" Klink asked nervously wishing he was back in the control tower. "I'm content to just sit here."
"Now Klink!" Reichter shouted.
"Ok," Klink scanned the controls looking for the right one. Finding it he gave the plane some gas and they sped up.
Faster and faster they went until Reichter tapped Klink on the back again. "We can take off now Klink."
"I'd really rather stay at the base and have a cup of cocoa." Klink slowly pushed the plane upwards. It tottered, not having enough power to lift off.
"Give it more power!" Reichter ordered.
The end of the runway was coming up. Klink again timidly gave more throttle, though not nearly enough for takeoff.
"Look out!" Reichter yelled, seeing the end of the run way in sight.
Klink, instead of taking off, veered the plane to the left. The plane skidde through the turn crashed into a large tree by the runway. The plane lay there smoking until help could come. Klink was pulled out of the pilot's seat uninjured but Von Reichter had injured his knee. "Klink," he gasped wincing in pain as medics wheeled him to the hospital. "You have better watch yourself tonight. I might finish what the crash didn't."