Boy's Cinema (1939-40)

\ 2 BOY'S CINEMA Every Tuesday The sensational adventures of a United States Air Corps officer who tries to discover what is behind the wrecking of a new and revolutionary type of bombing plane. In the film the part of the officer is played by Jack Holt A STARTLING INVENTION OUTSIDE the massive granite building of the War Department in Wash- ington, a blight-eyed youth with a bundle of newspapers under his arm stood smartly to attention as a tall, tight-lipped and broad-shouldered oflBcer in the uniform of the U.S. Air Corps approached him. Major John Roston was what the youth would have described as "a regular guy," as well as an oflRcer, and a regular customer into the bargain. " Good-moi-ning, Tommv," said Roston pleasantly, "got my paper?" " Yessir." A copy of the "Washington Signal " was presented with a flourish, and paid for, and officer and newsboy saluted one another. Roston had an appointment that morn- ing with General Wilbur Moody, the elderly, bulky and grey-haired chief of the Intelligence Division, and the general was already at his desk, in a half-panelled room on the first floor of the building, examining a tiny model of a bombing aero- plane with all the delight of a small boy. Roston entered the building, ascended to his own room, deposited his cap and the newspaper there, and proceeded to the Intelligence Division. In an ante-room another officer was waiting—Colonel Whalen, a handsome, middle-aged man of typically military aspect—and the two entered the general's presence together. Greetings were exchanged, and the major became seated at one end of the desk and the colonel at the other. "Major Roston has something here, colonel," said the general, "that I think will interest you." Whalen looked at the miniature bombei', held in his direction, and at a model of a power-house which was standing on the desk. "Don't tell me I have another secret to guard," he said with a grimace. "What is it this time?" "Suppose you explain it to him, major?" Nov.mlMr ^th, 1039. "Very well, general." Roston received the miniature bomber and handled it as though it were some treasure. "This is the model of an electrically driven plane that gets its power from the ground. He pointed to the other model on the desk. "And this," he went on, "is the model of a building which houses a generator that transmits the electrical energy into the air through these two rods." He in- dicated two metal masts above the roof of the little power-house, then pointed to two somewhat similar masts projecting from the cockpit of the bomber. "And the electrical energy is picked up by the plane through these two receivers." Colonel Whalen looked suitably im- pressed, but did not open his mouth. "What do you think of the idea, colonel?" General Moody inquired. "Why, it sounds fine," was the slow response, " but can the principle be applied to a full-sized plane?" "That's exactly what's being done!" the general Informed him with enthusiasm. "The War Department has financed the development of the invention in return for an option to purchase. Major Roston and the inventor, Walter Fielding, have spent several months perfecting a full-sized plane." "Excellent," said the colonel. "Then it is another secret for me to guard." He looked at the models and then he looked at Roston. "But is it practical, major?" he asked. "For instance, how far can power be transmitted from th6 ground station?" Roston put down the miniature bomber. "From the plant we've built," he stated, "we should be able to send power to a plane within a radius of five hundred miles." "And with power-stations installed at five hundred mile intervals," added the general, "the plane's cniising range will be practically unlimited." "If it works, colonel," said Roston, "it will revolutionise aviation. No more heavy loads of petrol to lift—which means no more fife hazard, or danger of ex- plosions. But the most important point of all is silence. From an altitude as low as a thousand feet the plane can't be heard from the ground." " It would be to your advantage to come to Clayburn Field in the morning and see us make our first test." "Very well, sir." Whalen rose to his feet. "Oh—er—how many people know the details of this invention?" "Only three," the general replied. "The inventor. Major Roston and myself. Of course, we all understand that no one must learn how it is constructed." "Certainly, general." Whalen was emphatic. "Major, my best wishes." The three shook hands, and they parted company after arranging to meet at the flying field on Long Island at seven o'clock on the following morning. But If only three people were acquainted with the de- tails of the invention there were others whoTcnew of the test flight. Within an hour of the conversation just recorded a long black saloon car drew up outside the front door of a fine old stone- built mansion in Westchester County, and a man with piercing dark eyes, a hawk-like nose, and a little dark moustache got out from it and rang the bell. His name was William Foniay, his appearance was dis tinctly that of a foreigner. A white-haired butler admitted him. "Thank you, Henry," he said. "Any messages?" "Mr. Mann is waiting," the butler In- formed him. "Ah, that's fine!" Fornay handed over hat. gloves and stick, crossed the hall, and entered a study elaborately fitted and furnished. "Hallo, Jules!" Jules Mann, who rose up fi'om a capacious leather-covered chair, was a powerfully built fellow of about forty. " Hallo, he returned. " I've good news," said Fornay.