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+The Project Gutenberg eBook of Aces Up
+    
+This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
+most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
+whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
+of the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online
+at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States,
+you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located
+before using this eBook.
+
+Title: Aces Up
+
+
+Author: Covington Clarke
+
+Release date: December 17, 2009 [eBook #30698]
+                Most recently updated: January 5, 2021
+
+Language: English
+
+Credits: Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed
+        Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ACES UP ***
+
+
+
+Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+ACES UP
+
+By
+
+Covington Clarke
+
+THE REILLY & LEE CO.
+
+CHICAGO--NEW YORK
+
+
+
+
+ACES UP
+
+COPYRIGHT 1929 BY THE REILLY & LEE CO.
+
+PRINTED IN THE U.S.A.
+
+
+
+
+  "By the shore of life and the
+    gate of breath,
+  There are more things waiting
+    for men than death."
+
+
+
+
+ACES UP
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+The New Instructor
+
+
+1
+
+Tex Yancey, called "The Flying Fool" by his comrades in the --th Pursuit
+Squadron of the American Expeditionary Force, entered the mess hall with
+lips pressed into a thin, mirthless grin that seemed entirely
+inappropriate in one who was thirty minutes late to mess and must
+therefore make out with what was left. The other members of the squadron
+had finished their meal and were now engaged in the usual after-dinner
+practice of spinning some tall yarns.
+
+Yancey stalked slowly to his place at the long table, but instead of
+seating himself stood with hands thrust deep into his pockets and with
+his long, thin legs spread wide apart. For a full minute he stood there,
+seeming to be mildly interested in the tale that Hank Porter was
+telling. But those who knew Tex, as did the members of this squadron,
+knew that the cynical smile on his thin lips was but the forerunner of
+some mirthless thing from which only "The Flying Fool" would be able to
+wring a laugh. His was such a grotesque sense of humor; a highly
+impractical practical joke was his idea of a riotous time. Someone in
+the squadron, who had once felt the sting of one of his pranks, had
+called him a fool, and another member had responded, "Yeah, he's a fool,
+all right--but a flyin' fool!" The tribute had become a nickname, and
+Yancey rather reveled in it.
+
+Just now his smile was masking some grim joke and his eyes held the mild
+light of pity.
+
+"Well, Hank," he drawled at last, when Porter had wound up his story,
+"that yarn, as much as I get of it, would lead the average _hombre_
+to pick you out as a sho' 'nuff flyer. I would myself. Me, I'm easy
+fooled that way. I reckon all you buckaroos think you know somethin'
+about flyin', eh?"
+
+Standing a full six feet two, he looked down upon them, the look of pity
+still in his eyes in strange conflict with the mirthless smile still on
+his lips.
+
+"What's eatin' you?" Porter growled. "We can't help it because you're
+late for mess. Where've you been?"
+
+Siddons and Hampden, not greatly interested in what they felt was some
+new strained humor on Yancey's part, pushed back from the table and
+started for the door, their objective being the French town of Is Sur
+Tille.
+
+Yancey waited until they were near the door before he answered Porter.
+
+"Oh, I've just been over to Is Sur Tille havin' a look-see at this new
+instructor that's comin' down here to teach us how to fly."
+
+Siddons, with his hand upon the door, wheeled abruptly and studied
+Yancey's face, trying to discover the jest hidden behind that baffling,
+masking smile.
+
+"Are you joking us?" he demanded from the doorway, but sufficiently
+convinced to turn back.
+
+The "Flying Fool" smiled sweetly. "Why, Siddons, I wouldn't kid you-all
+about that sort o' thing," he drawled. "I saw him myself, in town,
+ridin' in a car with the C.O.[A] Like as not the Major will bring him
+in here this evenin' for a little chin-chin."
+
+A suppressed growl arose from the other pilots.
+
+"What is he coming here for?" young Edouard Fouche demanded, knowing the
+answer but anxious to have it brought out in the open where it could be
+attacked and vilified by all.
+
+Yancey seated himself, tilted his chair back from the table and bestowed
+another sweet smile upon a room filled with scowling faces. It was a
+delicious moment--for Tex.
+
+"Why, he's comin' here to teach you poor worms how to fly. It seems
+that someone back in the States made a mistake in thinkin' we were
+pilots. We're here by accident. Ha! Ha! That's what we are--just
+accidents. Did you boys think we were sent over here to get all
+messed up in this little old war? Tut, tut! We're here just to add
+grandeur to the colorless scenery. Now be nice to this fellow when
+he comes. Maybe after he has labored with us for a while we'll be
+turned into ferry pilots and be sent to ferryin' planes up to the
+regular guys. I'm so glad I horned in on this scrap; it's so well
+planned and--and thrillin'."
+
+More growls. Tex wasn't being at all funny. Indeed, if this ridiculous
+story were true, then it was the last straw on the camel's back. Had
+they not already suffered enough?
+
+The squadron had been in France for two weeks, an interminable time to
+the restless group of young airmen who, booted and belted and ready for
+the fray, now found themselves suddenly faced with the prospect of still
+more training and when as yet they had not the haziest notion of the
+type of ship that was to be given them for mounts. One rumor had it that
+they were to get American ships powered by a much-talked-of mystery
+motor. Very well, but where were those ships? Another rumor, equally
+persistent, was to the effect that they were to draw French Spads. Very
+well again, but where were the Spads? Still other rumors included
+Camels, Sopwiths, Nieuports and Pups. One rumor, uglier and more
+maddening than all the others, was to the effect that the entire
+squadron was to be used in observation work. Fancy that! A pursuit pilot
+being given a slow-moving observation crate with a one-winged,
+half-baked observer giving orders from the rear cockpit! It was enough
+to make a man wish he had joined the Marines. What was the good of all
+their combat training if they were to poke around over the front in
+busses that were meat for any enemy plane that chanced to sight them? It
+was enough to make a sane squadron go crazy, and the --th Pursuit
+Squadron was known throughout the service as the wildest bunch of thrill
+chasers ever collected and turned over to a distressed and despairing
+squadron commander.
+
+Some swivel-chair expert must have been dozing when the order went
+through sending them to France. In wash-out records they were the grand
+champions. They had left behind them a long train of cracked props,
+broken wings, stripped landing gears--and a few wrecks so complete that
+the drivers thereof had been sent home in six foot boxes draped with
+flags. But whatever may be said against them, one thing was certain in
+their minds and in the minds of all who knew them: They could fly! To
+them, any old crate that could be influenced to leave the ground was a
+ship, and they were willing to take it up at any time, at any place, and
+regardless of air conditions. Perhaps their record had been less black
+had they been given better ships.
+
+A student, seeking a perfect cross-section of American youth, would have
+found this squadron an interesting specimen. War drums, beating
+throughout the land, had summoned them from the four points of the
+compass. How they had ever been assembled at one field is a problem
+known only to the white-collared dignitaries who sat in swivel chairs
+and shuffled their service cards. The result of the shuffle caused many
+a commander to tear his hair and declare that the cards had been stacked
+against him.
+
+No two members of the squadron came from the same town or city; no two
+of them had the same outlook on life; no two members thoroughly
+understood one another. A Texan, such as Yancey, from the wind-swept
+Panhandle, may bunk with a world-travelled, well educated linguist, such
+as Siddons, and may even learn to call him Wart, but he never thoroughly
+understands him. A tide-water Virginian, such as Randolph Hampden, of
+the bluest of blue blood, may sit at mess by the side of a Californian,
+such as Hank Porter, but he will show no real interest in California
+climate and will never be able to make the westerner understand that
+Virginia is American history and not just a state. A nasal-voiced
+Vermonter, such as Nathan Rodd, brought up among stern hills and by
+sterner parents, will never fully understand a soft-voiced Louisianian,
+such as Edouard Fouche, who has found the world a very pleasant place
+with but few restrictions.
+
+Leaving out the question of patriotism, the members had but three common
+attributes: They had scornful disregard for any officer in the air
+service who knew less of flying than they had learned through the medium
+of hard knocks; they were determined from the very beginning to get to
+France; and they were the most care-free, reckless, adventurous,
+devil-may-care bunch of stem-winders that had ever plagued and
+embarrassed the service by the simple procedure of being gathered into
+one group.
+
+It may be that the War Department, in despair, at last thought to be rid
+of them by sending them overseas where their ability and proclivity for
+stirring up trouble could be turned to good account against the enemy.
+In any case, they were at last in France and from the moment of their
+landing had been exceedingly voluble in their demands for planes. They
+wanted action, not delay. And now that Yancey had brought word of this
+last crushing indignity, they opened wide the spigots of wrath, all
+talked at once, and the sum total of their comments contained no single
+word that could be considered as complimentary to management of the war.
+More instruction in flying! It was unthinkable. But then, perhaps this
+grim joker, Yancey, was spoofing a bit.
+
+"Come on, Wart," Hampden called to Siddons from the doorway. "Tex has
+just been listening to old General Rumor. I'd like right much to see
+this instructor before I get excited about it. Come on, let's go into
+town. The night's young--and so am I."
+
+"You'll get excited when you see him," Tex responded, sagely.
+
+"Who is he?" Nathan Rodd asked, which was about as long a sentence as
+Rodd ever spoke. He saved words as though they were so much gold.
+
+"He's an English lieutenant," Tex answered. "Red-headed, freckle-faced,
+and so runty that he'd have to set on a stepladder to see out of a
+cockpit."
+
+"A Limey!" chorused half a dozen incredulous, angry voices. "Whatdya
+know about that!"
+
+Tex nodded solemnly. He was enjoying the situation. Inwardly, he was as
+furious as any of the others, but he had the happy faculty of being able
+to enjoy mob distress. "Yeah, a Limey! Some gink in town told me he was
+a famous ace. I forget his name. Never could remember names. But you
+boys'll love him. Like as not he'll let some of us solo after a month or
+so. Ain't the air service wonderful?"
+
+More growls, and a half dozen muttered threats.
+
+"Now boys, you-all be good, or Uncle Samuel'll send you back home and
+let you work in the shipyards at twenty per day. I'm surprised and hurt
+that you take this good news in this fashion. I should think you'd be
+delighted to have a Limey show you how he shot down a few of--"
+
+"Attention!" Hampden called from the doorway, a warning quality in his
+voice.
+
+The men looked up. There in the doorway stood Major Cowan, and by his
+side was a neatly uniformed, diminutive member of the Royal Flying
+Corps. The men scrambled hastily to their feet. Yancey upset his chair
+with a clatter as he unwound his long, thin legs from around the rungs.
+
+Major Cowan, always maddeningly correct in military courtesies, turned
+upon Hampden with a withering look.
+
+"Lieutenant," his voice had the edge of a razor but its cut was not so
+smooth, "do you not know that attention is not called when at mess?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"You do, or you do not?"
+
+"Double negatives bother me right much," Hampden replied, his eyes on
+the English pilot and caring not a whit for court-martial now that he
+saw in the flesh the proof of Yancey's report, "but I do know the rule."
+
+"Then observe it," Major Cowan responded, testily. "Gentlemen, this is
+Lieutenant McGee, of the British Royal Flying Corps, who has been
+assigned to us as flying instructor."
+
+Lieutenant McGee felt that the room was surcharged with hostility, and
+he found himself in the position of one who is ashamed of the acts of
+another. Major Cowan, altogether too brusque, failed utterly to impress
+McGee, whose service in the Royal Flying Corps had been with a class of
+men who thought more of deeds than of rank and who could enjoy a
+care-free camaraderie without becoming careless of discipline.
+Discipline, after all, is never deeper than love and respect, and McGee
+felt somehow that Cowan was not a man to command either. McGee felt his
+face coloring, and tried to dispel it with a smile.
+
+"I am glad to meet you, gentlemen," he said, "and I want to correct the
+Major's statement. I am not here as a flying instructor, in the strict
+sense of the word, but to give you, first hand, some of our experiences
+in formation flying, combat, and patrol work. I dare say you are all
+well trained. In fact, I have heard some rather flattering reports
+concerning you."
+
+Yancey cast a sidelong glance at his neighbor; Siddons nudged Hank
+Porter. Porter pressed his foot against Fouche's boot. Not a bad fellow,
+this. Something like, eh?
+
+Major Cowan was not one who could permit others to roll the sweets of
+flattery under their tongues. He must qualify it with a touch of
+vinegar.
+
+"Lieutenant McGee is modest concerning his duties," he said. "In fact,
+you will find all English officers becomingly modest."
+
+"But I am not English!" McGee corrected. "I am an American--born in
+America, and that's why I have been so happy about this assignment."
+
+Several members of the squadron began edging nearer. Perhaps things were
+not going to be so dreadful after all.
+
+"Indeed?" Major Cowan lifted his eyebrows in surprise. The points of his
+nicely trimmed moustache twitched nervously as he began to wonder just
+how he should treat an American who happened to be wearing the uniform
+and insignia of a lieutenant in the R.F.C.
+
+"My parents were English," McGee decided to explain, "but I was born in
+the States. When the war broke out, my brother, who was older by a few
+years, came over and joined the balloon corps. I was too young to
+enlist, but my parents were both dead and I came along with my brother,
+remaining in London until--" he hesitated and cleared his voice of a
+sudden huskiness, "until word came that my brother had been killed. His
+balloon was shot down while he was up spotting artillery fire.
+Naturally, I began to try to get in. I had to put over a fast one on the
+examining board, but I made it. And here I am at last, with my own
+countrymen. Top hole, isn't it?" His smile was so genuine and compelling
+that none could doubt the sincerity of his pleasure. All barriers of
+restraint were broken down. This chap actually courted conversation.
+
+"Why don't you get repatriated, Lieutenant?" Yancey asked.
+
+"The tactless fool!" Hampden thought, but dared not say. Of course the
+Texas clown would rush in where angels feared to tread. Didn't the
+fathead have any conception of pride of uniform and pride in a nation's
+accomplishments? Hampden felt that he would like to hit Yancey with one
+of the water carafes.
+
+"What's that? Repatriated?" McGee repeated. "How can that be done?"
+
+"Haven't you seen the General Order providing for it?" Tex continued,
+despite Major Cowan's silencing frown.
+
+"I'm afraid not," McGee replied. "I've been pretty busy--and I don't get
+a great thrill out of G.O's. Tell me about it."
+
+"Well--" Yancey began slowly, enjoying to the fullest the opportunity to
+provide information uninterrupted, "as you know, a lot of Americans
+joined the English and French air forces before we came in. Some of 'em,
+just like you, maybe, had a sort of score to settle. But I reckon most
+of 'em went in because it offered something unusual and a lot of
+thrills. Huh! You tell 'em! Then when Uncle Sam got warm under the saddle
+and came hornin' in, a lot of the boys who'd come over and joined up
+began castin' homesick glances back in a westerly direction.
+Natural-like, Uncle Samuel is willin' to welcome home all his prodigal
+sons, if he can get 'em back, and he's specially forgivin' considerin'
+that his army at the beginnin' of hostilities is just about one day's
+bait on a real war-like front. As for flyers, he hasn't got enough of
+'em, trained, to do observation work for an energetic battery of
+heavies. So he makes medicine talk with Johnny Bull and with France, and
+for once he comes out with all the buttons on his trousers. They agree
+to release all the Americans servin' under their colors who express a
+desire to get into O.D. under the Stars and Stripes. 'Repatriation' was
+the flossy name they gave it, but I call it homesickness. A lot of the
+wayward sons jumped at it quick, and we're 'way ahead on the game, any
+way you look at it. Now take some of those boys in the Lafayette
+Escadrille. Why, if they--"
+
+Yancey's voice droned on, but McGee no longer heard what he was saying,
+though to all appearances he was paying courteous attention. But as a
+matter of fact his eyes were resting upon Lieutenant Siddons, and he was
+cudgelling his brain in an effort to remember where he had seen him
+before. The blond, curly hair; the rather square face and brow; the thin
+lips, the calm, cold grey eyes; and the air of self-satisfied assurance,
+all were part of a memory which was vivid enough but which refused to
+come out of the back of the mind and associate itself with identifying
+surroundings. Where had he seen that face? New York? No, not there. He
+knew very few people in New York. Well, after all, perhaps it was only a
+strong resemblance. But resembling whom? Surely no one of his
+acquaintances looked like Siddons, at least none that he could remember.
+
+McGee's gaze must have been a little too steady, at least enough to
+prove discomfiting, for Siddons half turned away and began speaking in
+whispers to Hampden. He talked out of the corner of his mouth, as one
+who is ashamed of the words he utters, and McGee felt the stirrings of a
+faint dislike for him.
+
+Yancey reached the end of his monologue. The moment of silence that
+followed brought McGee sharply back to the present. He smiled graciously
+at the Texan.
+
+"That's quite interesting," he said. "Strange I missed that order, and
+stranger still that no one mentioned it to me. But we've been pretty
+busy up in the Ypres salient--too busy to think much about what flag we
+were fighting under. I've enjoyed being with the English, but of course
+'there's no place like home'. I'm very happy to be assigned here, and I
+am glad Major Cowan gave me this chance to meet you. The Major tells me
+that you are to get several new Spads in the next two or three days.
+Until that time, I won't disturb you. I'm driving back into town. Anyone
+want a lift?"
+
+"Thank you, Lieutenant," Hampden spoke up, "Siddons and I are going in.
+Have you room?"
+
+"Certainly. Glad to have you along. Major Cowan, how about you?"
+
+"Sorry," the Major replied, dourly, "but I have to pay the price of
+command by poring over a lot of detail work which would be spared me if
+I had a more efficient staff."
+
+Mullins, the peppery little Operations Officer, felt the full force of
+the sting but he passed it off by winking wisely at Yancey. Why worry?
+Cowan was always looking for work and for trouble. He was never so happy
+as when bawling someone out.
+
+McGee felt sorry for Mullins and sorrier still for Cowan. One with half
+an eye could see that Cowan was about as popular with his command as
+would be a case of smallpox. McGee had been trained in an atmosphere
+where discipline was a matter of example rather than a matter of fear,
+and as a result had always known a sort of good-fellowship which he felt
+instinctively would be impossible with such a commander as Cowan.
+
+"I'm sorry you can't come with us, Major," McGee said in a voice that
+carried no conviction. "However, I must toddle along." He turned to
+Siddons and Hampden. "Ready? Right-O!"
+
+During the short motor trip into Is Sur Tille, McGee's curiosity finally
+got the better of his natural dislike for admitting that his memory had
+failed him. "I think I have met you somewhere before, Lieutenant," he
+said to Siddons.
+
+"Yes? I do not remember it," Siddons replied, with the air of one who is
+making no great draft upon his own memory. He himself evidently sensed
+the lack of courtesy, for he added, "New York, perhaps. Have you been
+around New York much?"
+
+"No, I haven't. Somewhere else--"
+
+Lieutenant Hampden's mellow laugh interrupted.
+
+"Siddons has the idea that one never meets anyone outside of New York,"
+he said. "He's terribly provincial, Lieutenant. He thinks there are only
+two places in the world--New York and everywhere else."
+
+Siddons displayed no resentment at the taunt; he seemed quite well
+satisfied with the opinion expressed. In fact, he appeared quite
+satisfied with everything--especially with himself.
+
+McGee wondered how a likeable chap, such as Hampden, could choose as
+companion one so utterly different in manner, in ideas, and in speech.
+But then, war brings together strange bedfellows and establishes new
+standards. McGee dismissed the matter from his mind as the car swung
+into the narrow streets of the darkened town.
+
+"Where can I drop you?" he asked.
+
+"Going by the café down on the main drag?" Hampden asked.
+
+"Right."
+
+"That will be fine. I hope to see you again soon, Lieutenant."
+
+"Thanks. The Spads are due to arrive on Monday. That's three days. See
+you then. Well, here we are," as the car swung in to the curb in front
+of the café. The shutters were closed, no light came from any of the
+stores or houses along the street, but from behind the closed door of
+the café came the sound of voices and laughter mixed with the metallic
+banging of a very old piano beating out tuneless accompaniment to a
+bull-voiced singer roaring through the many verses of "Hinkey Dinkey
+Parlez Vous".
+
+    "The Yank Marine went over the top,
+      _Parlez Vous_,
+    The Yank Marine went over the top,
+      _Parlez Vous_,
+    The Yank Marine went over the top
+    And gave old Fritz a whale of a pop,
+      Hinkey Dinkey, _Parlez Vous_."
+
+McGee smiled as he sat for a moment listening to the words. All his
+service had been with the English, who of course had composed many songs
+highly complimentary to themselves, and only in the last few days had he
+come in contact with the forerunners of the mighty American army now
+pouring into French harbors from every arriving boat.
+
+"Quite a fellow--this Yank Marine," he said to Siddons.
+
+Siddons nodded, rather stiffly. "So it seems. Though he hasn't been over
+the top yet. Prophecy, I suppose." He stepped from the car to the curb
+with the bearing of one accustomed to being delivered in a
+chauffeur-driven car.
+
+McGee was on the point of calling out, "When shall I call, sir?" but at
+that moment noticed young Hampden's genuine smile and heard him voicing
+words of appreciation for the lift.
+
+"Don't mention it," McGee said. "It was a pleasure. Cheerio! old man!"
+
+"There," he thought, sinking back in the tonneau. "I said 'old man'.
+Singular case, and that lets Siddons out rather neatly. Hum. I'll bet a
+cookie he knows more about flying than I do--or anyone else, for that
+matter. Well, we'll see. I wonder what sort of outfit Buzz drew."
+
+Lieutenant "Buzz" Larkin was closer to McGee than any person in the
+world. Close bonds of friendship had been formed while they were in
+training in Cadet Brigade Headquarters, at Hastings, England. During
+their months of service together in the Royal Air Force, on exceedingly
+hot fronts, those bonds of friendship had become bands of steel, holding
+them together almost as firmly as blood ties. Both were Americans, but
+the motives back of their entrance into the R.F.C. were as widely
+divergent as possible. Larkin, the son of a wealthy manufacturer, had
+never disclosed the real reason for his entrance into a foreign service.
+Perhaps he sought adventure. McGee, however, made no secret of the
+motives back of his entrance. When word reached him that his brother had
+been killed while doing observation work in a captive balloon, young
+McGee, not yet eighteen, employed a trick (which he thought justified)
+to gain entrance to the Air Force. He felt that he must carry on an
+unfinished work, and few will find fault with him if his actions were
+motivated by a slight spirit of revenge. After all, blood is thicker
+than water.
+
+Whatever the motives of the two youths, once in the uniform of cadet
+flyers, the spirit of service seized them. Side by side, encouraging,
+entreating, helping and driving one another they plugged through their
+training with their eyes fixed upon the coveted reward of every air
+service cadet--a pair of silvered wings!
+
+Together they had won their wings; together they had gone to the front;
+together they had gone out on patrol, high above the lines, and met the
+enemy. Thereafter, the fortune of one was the fortune of both. Each had
+saved the other's life, the culminating tie in their friendship, if
+indeed their friendship needed any further tie.
+
+Both had become aces, though in combat work McGee was easily the
+superior. This, however, he constantly denied and was forever admiring
+Larkin's work. Larkin, if inferior to McGee in a dog fight, was better
+disciplined. He could go up in formation, keep his eye on his flight
+commander, obey orders, and keep his head when he saw an enemy plane.
+McGee, on the contrary, went as wild as a berserker the moment he laid
+eyes on a plane bearing the black cross. Orders were forgotten and he
+dived, throttle wide open, stick far forward, every thought gone from
+his mind but the one compelling urge to get that other plane on the
+inside of his ring sight. McGee had his personal faults, but he was a
+faultless flyer. The same may be said of Larkin, for men in aerial
+combat never make but one vital mistake. Those who become aces have no
+great faults; those with great faults become mere tallies for the aces.
+Now and then, of course, the grim scorer nods during the game and a
+fault goes unpenalized, but as a rule it can be said that a man who can
+become an ace may well be called a faultless flyer, for an ace is one
+who has rolled up a score of five victories against those whose skill
+was less than his own. Of course, there is the element of luck to be
+considered, for luck and skill must go hand in hand when youths go
+jousting in the clouds. But luck can only attend the skillful. With
+skill wanting, luck soon deserts.
+
+Beyond doubt both McGee and Larkin had enjoyed a full measure of luck,
+and were still enjoying it. For example, wasn't it luck that had sent
+them both down here on the French front to act as instructors to newly
+arriving American squadrons? Wasn't it luck that they were still
+billeted together in the lovely old chateau at the edge of town, and
+could look forward to many, many more days together?
+
+These latter thoughts were running through McGee's mind as his car swung
+under the trees lining the drive that led up to the chateau. Why, but
+for luck both of them might now be pushing up the daisies instead of
+being happily, and comparatively safely ensconced in such comfortable
+quarters. No more dawn patrols--for a while at least; no more soggy
+breakfasts--with comrades missing who banteringly breakfasted with you
+twenty-four short hours ago.
+
+McGee's thoughts took unconscious vocal form as he stepped from the car.
+"Lucky? I'll say we are!"
+
+"What did you say, sir?" asked the driver.
+
+The question snapped McGee back to earth.
+
+"I was complimenting myself upon some very narrow escapes, Martins, but
+I'll repeat--for your benefit. You are a very lucky boy."
+
+Martins blinked. He held opposite views. "You think so, sir? I've gotta
+different idea. I wanted to be a pilot, like you, sir, and here I am
+toolin' this old bus around France with never a chance to get off the
+ground unless I run off an embankment. And this old wreck is no bird."
+
+"So you really wanted to be a pilot, Martins?"
+
+"I sure did, sir."
+
+"Um-m. That's why I said you were a very lucky young man. I know the
+names of a lot of young fellows who wanted to become pilots--and did.
+But they've gone West now and their names are on wooden crosses. Hoe
+your own row, Martins, and thank the Lord for small favors."
+
+"Yes, sir," aloud, and under his breath, "It's easy enough for them that
+has wings."
+
+"How's that, Martins?" McGee asked, rather enjoying himself.
+
+Martins fidgeted with the gear shift. "I said I had always wanted a pair
+of wings, sir."
+
+"Well, be a good boy and maybe you'll get them--in the next world. Good
+night, Martins."
+
+"'Night--sir." Gurrr! went the clashing gears as the car got under way
+with a lurch that spoke volumes for the driver. It was tough to be held
+to the ground by a wingless motor.
+
+McGee caught a gleam of light through the shutters of the upstairs
+windows. So Larkin was back already? He took the front steps in a jump
+and raced up the stairs in a manner most unbecoming to a First
+Lieutenant with a score of victories to his credit.
+
+"What kind of an outfit did you draw, Buzz?" he demanded as he burst
+into the room.
+
+Larkin was buried behind a Paris edition of the _Tribune_, his legs
+sprawled out into the middle of the floor where the heel of one boot
+balanced precariously on the toe of the other.
+
+"Oh, so-so," never bothering to look from behind his paper. Phlegmatic
+old Buzz, McGee thought, what was the use of getting excited over an
+instructor's job?
+
+"Are they good?" McGee asked.
+
+"Um. Dunno." Still reading.
+
+"Mine are great!" McGee enthused. "Stiff, crusty young C.O., who needs a
+couple of crashes--one fatal, maybe--but the rest of them are fine.
+Great bunch of pilots."
+
+"Yeah?" Still reading, but doubtful. "See any of 'em fly?"
+
+"No-o," slowly, "of course not."
+
+"Um-m. Well, wait until they begin sticking the noses of those new Spads
+in the ground, and then tell me about 'em. They've been trained on
+settin' hens. Wait until they mount a hawk."
+
+McGee jerked a pillow from the bed and sent it crashing through the
+concealing paper. "Old killjoy! If a man gave you a diamond you'd try it
+on glass to see if it was real."
+
+Larkin began rearranging his crumpled paper. "Well, why not? If it
+wasn't real I wouldn't want it. And I wish you'd keep your pillows out
+of my theatrical news. I was just reading about a play at the _Folies
+Bergeres_, called 'Zig Zag'. They say it's a scream. By the way,
+Shrimp, how'd you like to fly to Paris to-morrow morning and give it the
+once over?"
+
+"Fine, but--"
+
+"But nothing! We can see it to-morrow night and be back the next day.
+That fine bunch of pilots of yours can't get off the ground until the
+Spads get here--and maybe not then."
+
+"See here!" McGee challenged stoutly. "I'll bet you anything you like
+that those boys--"
+
+"Will all be aces in a month," Larkin completed, knowing the extent and
+warmth of McGee's habitual enthusiasm. "All right, Shrimp, so be it. But
+what has that to do with the show? Want to go?"
+
+"Sure. But what about passes? I don't know just who we are answerable to
+down here, in the matter of privileges and so forth. I've been sort of
+lost for the last few days."
+
+Larkin shoved his hand into his inside blouse pocket and brought forth
+two folded papers which he displayed proudly.
+
+"Here are the passes--all jake! Marked official business and authorizing
+fuel and supplies, if needed. I'm a great little fixer. And about that
+question of not knowing who you are answerable to, don't forget that
+it's little Johnny Bull--capital J and B. You're liable to get jerked
+off this detail so quick you'll leave toothbrush and pajamas behind.
+Every morning now when I wake up and remember that I don't have to go
+out on dawn patrol I start pinching myself to see if I'm awake. Boy, in
+this game it's here to-day and gone to-morrow. Wasn't it old Omar who
+handed out that gag, 'Ah, make the most of what we yet may spend, before
+we too into the dust descend'?... Yeah? Well, he must have written that
+for war pilots. The minute J.B. finds out how comfortable we are down
+here we'll be recalled and sent to chasing Huns back across the line. In
+fact, I think we're both asleep and having nice dreams."
+
+"That reminds me," McGee said, drawing up a chair and sitting gingerly
+on the edge after the manner of one about to indulge in confidential
+disclosures. "Have you heard anything of this repatriation business?"
+
+"Sure. Haven't you?"
+
+"Not a word."
+
+"Where have you been? It came down in a G.O."
+
+McGee scratched his head. "So I've just learned, but it's the first I've
+heard of it. Funny you didn't mention it to me."
+
+Larkin eyed him curiously. "Well," slowly, "I knew you were English
+and--"
+
+"But I'm not, and you know it!" McGee flared.
+
+"Calm, brother, calm! I mean, I knew your father and mother were
+English, and so was your brother."
+
+"But I was born in America. I'm just as much of an American as you are!"
+
+"Calm, brother, calm! No one says you are not. But because of your
+family nationality, I supposed you would want to finish out the string
+with the R.F.C. and," he reached over and tousled McGee's mop of flaming
+red hair, "I'm just fool enough to want to stick around where you
+are--you little shrimp! So I thought I wouldn't bring up the subject."
+
+McGee gave him a look of deep understanding and appreciation.
+
+"Fact is," Larkin went on, "I just got a letter from Dad the other day
+and he seems to be pretty hot under the collar because I haven't made
+any move to get repatriated."
+
+"Why haven't you?"
+
+"You poor nut! I've just told you."
+
+"No you haven't, Buzz. There is some reason deeper than that."
+
+Larkin fingered his newspaper nervously and tried to simulate an
+interest in some news note. He hated to display sentiment, yet the fates
+had given him a double burden of it. As a matter of honest fact, he was
+as sentimental as a woman, and was forever trying to hide the fact
+behind a thin veneer of nonchalance and bluster.
+
+"Did you see this communique from our old front?" he asked, trying to
+shift the subject. "They're having some hot fighting up there."
+
+"Yes, I know. Things look pretty dark for the English. But answer my
+question: What is the real reason why you haven't thought of getting
+transferred into the United States forces?"
+
+"I didn't say I hadn't thought of it," Larkin avoided. "Maybe I didn't
+want to trade horses in the middle of the stream."
+
+"Any other reason?"
+
+"Well, hang it all! a fellow builds up some pride in the uniform he
+wears. A good many of our buddies have gone out for their last ride in
+this uniform and--and it stands for a lot. Of course I am proud of my
+own country, and sometimes I feel a little strange in this uniform now
+that my own country is in the war, but it isn't a thing you can put on
+or take off just as the spirit moves you. It becomes a part of you. Say!
+What's eatin' you, anyway? Are you anxious to change uniforms?"
+
+"Um-m. I'm not so sure. I like that bunch I met over there to-night."
+
+"Yes, and they are all afoot. The truth is, our own country hasn't
+enough combat planes to send out a patrol. They are developing some
+mystery motor, I hear, but I'm not very keen about trying out any
+mystery motors. Our Camels are mystery enough to suit me. When I'm up
+against the ceiling with a fast flying Albatross or tri-plane Fokker on
+my tail, I don't want any mysteries to handle. No, Red, for the time
+being I guess I'm satisfied. Besides, they might chuck me in the
+infantry, and I have a horror of having things drop on me from overhead.
+Let's to bed, old topper, so we can hop off early in the morning. The
+sooner we start the sooner we get to 'Gay Paree'. Besides, early to bed
+and early to rise makes a man ready to challenge the skies. How's that
+for impromptu poetry?"
+
+"Rotten! Omar and Ben Franklin both in one evening!" McGee yawned as he
+began pulling at a boot. "But it makes me sleepy. Go on, say me some
+more pretty pieces. Or maybe you'd like to sing me to sleep."
+
+[Footnote A: For definitions of military and aeronautical terms, as well
+as certain slang peculiar to army life, see glossary at the back of the
+book.]
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+A Pass to Paris
+
+
+1
+
+The following morning dawned with the quiet splendor and benediction
+which April mornings bring to the rural province of Cote d'Or. By the
+time the sun had climbed above the low hills to the east and was turning
+the dew covered fields into limitless acres of flashing diamonds and
+sapphires, McGee and Larkin had hurried through breakfast and were on
+their way out to the hangars where the mechanics, following Larkin's
+orders, would have the two Camels waiting on the line. As the car rolled
+along the smooth highway leading to the flying field, McGee sank back in
+the none too comfortable cushions and drank deep of the tonic of early
+morning.
+
+"Some day!" he said. Larkin merely nodded--the only reply needed when
+Spring is in the air.
+
+"It would be more fun to drive up to Paris," McGee offered.
+
+Larkin looked at him in surprise. "Where'd you get that idea?"
+
+"Well, nearly all of my impressions of France are from the air. It
+stands for so many squares of green fields, of little rivers gleaming
+like silver ribbons interlaced through squares of green and brown plush,
+of torn up battlefronts where there is no life, no color--nothing but
+desolation. But this seems like another world. Here are spring flowers,
+the orchards are in bloom, and children are playing in the narrow
+streets of the towns. Flying over it, you look down on all that. You see
+it--and you don't see it. But in driving we would feel that we were a
+part of it. There's a difference. It gives you a feeling that you are
+better acquainted with the people, and you get a chance to smell
+something besides the beastly old Clerget motors in those Camels. I'm
+getting so I feel sick every time I smell burning oil. Let's drive up,
+Buzz."
+
+Larkin, being in a different frame of mind, shook his head.
+
+"No, you're too blasted poetic about it already. Besides, we have
+permission to fly up, not to drive. I suppose we could get the pass
+changed, but why fool with your luck? And the quicker we get there the
+more we see."
+
+"All right, but on a day like this I could get more pleasure out of just
+wandering through the countryside than in seeing all the cities of the
+world rolled into one. Look!" he pointed to the flying field as the car
+turned from the highway. "There are the Camels, warming up, and filling
+this good, clean air with their sickening fumes. Bah! I hate it!"
+
+"Say, have you got the pip? You talk like a farmer. Snap out of it!
+We're headed for Gay Paree!"
+
+The car had rolled to a stop at the edge of the field. McGee climbed out
+slowly. "All right, big boy. You lead the way. And no contour chasing
+to-day. I'm too liable to get absent-minded and try to reach out and
+pick some daisies. Besides, this motor of mine has been trickier than
+usual in the last few days despite the fact that the Ack Emma declares
+she is top hole. So fly high and handsome. Know the way?"
+
+Larkin was crawling into his flying suit and did not answer.
+
+"Know the way?" McGee repeated.
+
+"Sure. That's a fine question to ask a pilot bound for Paris. We land at
+Le Bourget field, you know."
+
+"No, I didn't know."
+
+"Where'd you think you'd land--in the Champs Elysees?"
+
+"I'm liable to land on a church steeple if that motor cuts out on me as
+it did yesterday afternoon--for no reason at all. Remember, no contour
+chasing and no dog-fighting. We're going to Paris."
+
+Larkin grinned. Rarely did they go into the air together but what they
+engaged in mimic warfare--dog-fighting--before their wheels again
+touched the ground. It was the airman's game of tag, the winner being
+that one who could get on the other's tail and stay there. It was a
+thunderous, strut singing game wherein the pursued threw his plane into
+fantastic gyrations in a frenzied, wild effort to shake off the pursuer
+and get on his tail. It was a game in which McGee excelled. Although
+Larkin recognized this fact, he was always the first to start the dog
+fight and had never found McGee unwilling to play. As for contour
+chasing--well, they had broken regulations times without number, and to
+date had paid no penalty.
+
+McGee, knowing what thoughts lurked behind Larkin's grin, wagged a
+prudent finger under his nose.
+
+"Mind your step, Buzz," he warned. "We are supposed to be sedate,
+dignified, instruction-keeping instructors. Fly northwest to Auxerre,
+then follow the railroad toward Sens and on to Melun. Then swing
+straight north and come into Le Bourget from the east."
+
+"All right. All set?"
+
+"Yes. You lead off and I'll follow. Wait! On second thought I think I'll
+lead and pick my own altitude. And if you start any funny business, I'll
+leave you flat!"
+
+They climbed into the waiting planes, whose motors were still warming
+idly. Members of the ground crew took up their stations at the wing
+tips. McGee was on the point of nodding to the crew to remove the wheel
+chocks when he remembered that for the first time in his experience as a
+pilot he had climbed into the cockpit without first casting an
+appraising eye over braces, struts and turn buckles. He promptly cut the
+motor and climbed from the plane, saying, half aloud; "I must be getting
+balmy. It's the weather, I guess."
+
+"How's that, sir?" asked the air mechanic.
+
+"I say, it's balmy weather we're having."
+
+"Oh! Yes, sir."
+
+"You've checked her all over, Wilson?"
+
+"Yes, sir. And fueled her according to Lieutenant Larkin's
+instructions."
+
+"Hum." McGee slowly walked around the plane, giving every functional
+detail a critical look, nor was he the least hurried by the fact that
+Larkin was displaying impatience. Satisfied at last, he climbed back
+into the plane. A member of the ground crew took his place at the
+propeller.
+
+"Petrol off, sir?"
+
+"Petrol off."
+
+Whish! Whish! went the prop as the helper began pulling it over against
+compression.
+
+"Contact, sir!"
+
+"Contact."
+
+The motor caught, coughed, caught again and the prop whirled into an
+indistinct blur. The sudden blast of wind sent clouds of dust eddying
+toward the hangar, but ahead lay the cool, fresh, dew-washed green of
+the field. McGee turned to look once more at the wind sock which, for
+want of a breeze, hung limp along its staff. He nodded to the men at the
+wheel chocks, waved his hand to Larkin and gave her the gun.
+
+No pilot in the service could lift a Camel off the ground quicker than
+could McGee, but this morning he taxied slowly forward and was getting
+dangerously near the end of the field before he began to get the tail
+up.
+
+Larkin, watching him, chuckled. "Guess he wants to take a spin on the
+ground," he commented to himself. "Fancy that bird wanting to go to
+Paris by motor!" Then to show how little he thought of the ground he
+advanced his throttle rapidly and took off on far less space than should
+ever be attempted by one who knows, from experience, how suddenly a
+crowded Clerget-motored Camel can sputter and incontinently die. And as
+a parting defiance to his knowledge, Larkin pulled back his stick and
+zoomed. Altitude was what McGee wanted, eh? Well, here was the way to
+get altitude in a hurry.
+
+McGee, glancing backward, saw the take-off and the zoom. "The poor
+fish!" was his mental comment. "If he shows that kind of stuff to this
+squadron they'll be needing a lot of replacements--or yelling for a new
+instructor."
+
+But the appreciative ground crew, watching, expressed a different view.
+"Boy!" exclaimed an envious Ack Emma. "Can that baby fly! I'll tell the
+world! Watch him out-climb McGee. Did you see how McGee took off? Like a
+cadet doin' solo--afraid to lift her. And they say he's one of the best
+aces in the R.F.C. Huh! I think he's got the pip! Ever since he first
+touched his wheels to this 'drome he's been yellin' about his motor
+bein' cranky. And it's all jake. She takes gas like a race horse takes
+rein."
+
+"Yeah," growled a mechanic by the name of Flynn, who by nature and
+nationality stood ready to defend anyone bearing the name of McGee, "a
+lot you know about those little teapots in them Camels. You was trained
+on Jennies and--and Fords! What you know about a Clerget engine could be
+written on the back of a postage stamp. Say, do you know why he took her
+off so gentle? Well, I'll spread light in dark places, brother. He took
+off slow because he _knew_ you didn't know nothin', see?"
+
+"Say, listen--"
+
+The quarrel went on, despite the fact that the two pilots constituting
+the meatless bone of contention were rapidly becoming specks in the sky
+to the northwest.
+
+At five thousand feet McGee leveled off and swung slightly west. He
+looked back and up. Larkin was five hundred feet above him and somewhat
+behind, but at McGee's signal he dived down, taking up a position on the
+left. In this manner they could point out objects below and engage in
+the sign language which they had perfected through many hours spent in
+the air together.
+
+As they flew along McGee felt his spirits mounting. It was a good world
+to live in and life was made especially sweet and interesting by the
+soft unfolding greens of a land brought to bud and blossom by April's
+sun and showers. In the beautiful panorama below there was nothing to
+indicate that a few miles to the eastward mighty armies were striving
+over a tortured strip of blasted land that for years to come would lie
+fruitless and barren. Here all was peace, with never a hint--yes, far
+below on the white ribbon of roadway a long, dark python was slowly
+dragging itself forward. It was a familiar sight to Larkin and
+McGee--troops moving up to the theatre of war. And over on another road
+a long procession of humpbacked brown toads were plodding eastward.
+Motor lorries, carrying munitions and supplies. Strange monsters, these,
+to be coming from the green fields and woods of a seeming peaceful
+countryside. Forward, ever forward they made their way. Never, it seemed
+to McGee, had he seen roads choked with returning men and munitions. Was
+the maw of the monster there to the eastward bottomless and insatiable?
+Where were the roads that led men back to the land of living, green
+things?
+
+As they passed over a town, McGee saw Larkin point down. On the
+outskirts of the village a great cross in a circlet of green marked the
+location of a military hospital. Ah!... Yes, some came back. But even
+then they must brand their pain-racked sanctuary with the mercy
+imploring emblem of the Red Cross so that enemy planes, bent on
+devastation, would mingle mercy with hope of victory and save their
+bombs for those not yet carried into the long wards where white-robed
+doctors and nurses battled with death and spoke words of hope to the
+hopeless.
+
+It was a sorry world! McGee, who but a few short minutes ago was
+entranced by the beauty of the world, now felt a sudden, marked disgust.
+He pulled his stick back sharply. He would climb out of it! He would get
+up against the ceiling, where the world became a dim, faint blur or was
+lost altogether in a kindly obliterating ground haze.
+
+On McGee's part the action was nothing more than an unconscious reaction
+to distressing thoughts. Larkin, however, on seeing the sudden climb,
+grinned with delight. This climb for altitude was nothing more than the
+prelude to a dive that would start them into a merry game of hare and
+hound. So McGee had forgotten all about his doleful sermon against
+dog-fighting? And so soon. Ha! Trust the freckled "Little Shrimp" to
+feel blood racing through his veins when motors are singing sweetly.
+
+Instead of following, Larkin decided to nose down and offer more
+tantalizing bait.
+
+McGee, seeing the dive, found it more than he could resist. Besides, a
+merry little chase would serve to wash the brooding thoughts from his
+mind. This was a morning for sport, for jest, for youth--for hazard!
+
+Forward went the stick and he plunged down the backwash of Larkin's
+diving plane, his motor roaring its cadenced challenge. This was
+something like! Sky and ground were rushing toward each other. The
+braces were screaming like banshees; the speed indicator hand was
+mounting with a steady march that made one want to dive on and on and on
+until--
+
+Larkin, in the plane ahead, brought his stick backward as he made ready
+to go over in a tight loop. McGee smiled and followed him over. When
+they came out of the loop they were in the same relative
+position--Larkin the hare, McGee the tenacious hound.
+
+For the next few minutes the open-mouthed countrymen in the fields below
+were treated to a series of aerial gymnastics which must have sent their
+own pulses racing and which might well serve them for fireside narration
+for years to come.
+
+The two darting hawks Immelmanned, looped, barrel-rolled, side-slipped,
+and then plunged into a dizzy circle in which they flew round and round
+an imaginary axis, the radius of the circle growing ever shorter and
+shorter. Every action of the leading plane was immediately matched by
+the pursuer.
+
+Larkin, realizing that his skill in manoeuvering was something less than
+McGee's, decided to bring the contest to a close with a few thrills in
+hedge hopping.
+
+Of all sports that offer high hazard to thrill satiated war pilots, that
+of hedge hopping, or contour chasing, occupies first place. This is
+particularly true when the pilot is flying a Sopwith Camel powered by
+the temperamental Clerget motor with its malfunctioning wind driven
+gasoline pump. The sport had been repeatedly forbidden by all the allied
+air commands, but these commands had to deal with irrepressible youth,
+which has slight regard for doddering old mossbacks who think that a
+plane should be handled as a wheel chair.
+
+Larkin dived at the ground like a hawk that has sighted some napping
+rodent, and so near did he come that by the time he had leveled off, his
+wheels were almost touching the ground--and wheels must not touch when
+one is screaming through space at the rate of a hundred and forty miles
+per hour.
+
+He glanced back. Sure enough, McGee was still on his tail. No hedge
+hopping, eh? Huh! Trust The Shrimp to keep young, he thought. Fat chance
+they had of getting old. Who ever heard of an old war pilot? Ha! That's
+a good one! And here's a double row of tall poplars fringing the road
+directly ahead. Hold her close to the ground and then zoom her at the
+last minute ... landing gears just clearing the topmost branches ...
+make it, and that's hedge hopping. Fail to make it--and that's bad news!
+
+Larkin made it, a beautiful zoom that carried him over the trees by a
+skillful margin. Then he swooped down again, skimming along the level
+field on the other side of the road.
+
+McGee's zoom was just as spectacular and as nicely timed, but as his
+nose climbed above the first row of trees his motor died as suddenly as
+though throttled by the strangling hands of some unseen genii. Sudden
+though it was, McGee had sensed that he was crowding the motor too much
+and had tried to ease her off and still clear the trees. It was too late
+to relieve the choked motor but he did clear the first row of trees. He
+was about to close his eyes against the inevitable crash into the
+poplars on the other side of the road when he saw that two of the trees
+had been felled, and that so recently that the woodsmen had not yet
+worked them up. There was one clear chance left. If only he could slip
+her over just far enough to clear the outstretched limbs of the tree to
+the right.
+
+At such a time seconds must be divided into hundredths, and action must
+be instantaneous, instinctive, and without flaw. McGee felt one of the
+spreading limbs brush against his right wing tip, felt the plane swerve
+for a moment, then respond to rudder and aileron. It was a case where
+one moment he was supremely thankful for flying speed, and the next, as
+the ground of the level field was flashing under the wheels, wishing
+that he had held to his resolution concerning hedge hopping.
+
+The wheels struck hard. The plane bounded, high, and again the wheels
+touched. Again the plane bounded, and this time came down with a shock
+that left McGee amazed with the realization that the undercarriage was
+intact and that he still had a chance to keep her off her nose if only
+he could get the high-riding tail down.
+
+Crash! Crack! The tail was down now ... and broken to splinters, like as
+not. Never mind.... By some great mercy he was at last on three points
+and rolling to a stop.
+
+He suddenly felt very weak. A narrow squeeze, that! Stupid way for an
+ace--and an instructor--to get washed out. Like a Warrior falling off
+his horse while on the way home from a victorious field.
+
+He saw Larkin bank his ship into a tight turn, set the plane down in a
+perfect landing and come careening down the open field to stop within a
+dozen paces of McGee's plane.
+
+Larkin, white-faced, tight-lipped, crawled from his plane and came
+forward on the double-quick. Not a word did he speak until he stood by
+the side of Red's plane, his hands gripping the leather piping at the
+edge of the cockpit until his knuckles were white.
+
+"What happened, Red? Gee, you're white! All the freckles gone."
+
+"Lucky I'm not gone!" McGee answered. "My knees are too shaky to crawl
+out yet. It looked like _finis la guerre pour moi_ for a second."
+He turned and blew a kiss at the gap in the trees. "Thanks, Mr.
+Woodchopper, whoever you are. Buzz, never repeat that old poem about
+'Woodman, spare that tree!' If he had spared those two--well! Take a
+look at my tail skid, Old Timer. Is it broken off?"
+
+"No. It's cracked and sort of cockeyed, but a piece of wire from that
+fence over there will fix it all O.K. What happened?"
+
+McGee fixed him with a baleful glare. "You should ask--with as much
+experience as both of us have had with these tricky motors. I choked it
+down, that's all. That same little fault has sent many a pilot home in a
+wooden box. Go get me a piece of that wire. We'll fix the skid, somehow,
+and when I get to Le Bourget I'll set her down on two points. And
+listen! From here on in we do--"
+
+"No contour chasing," Larkin completed, forcing a thin smile. "Seems I
+heard that somewhere before. Crawl out, Shrimp. You said you wanted to
+be out among the flowers and sweet things. Well, here's a sweet thing,
+and this field is full of flowers. I brought you down low so you could
+enjoy them."
+
+"Yeah! I said I wanted to be among 'em--not pushing 'em up. Hurry over
+and get that wire before I do something violent."
+
+
+2
+
+Thirty minutes later two chastened pilots took off from the level field,
+with a half dozen curious French peasants for an audience, and laid a
+straight course for Le Bourget. No more acrobatics and no more hedge
+hopping. To an observer below they would have resembled two homing
+pigeons flying rather close together and maintaining their positions
+with a singleness of mind and purpose.
+
+When they reached Le Bourget they circled the 'drome once, noted the
+wind socks on the great hangars, and dropped as lightly to the field as
+two tardy, truant schoolboys seeking to gain entrance without attracting
+notice.
+
+A newly arrived American squadron was stationed at the field, jubilant
+over the fact that they were trying their skill on the fast climbing,
+fast flying single-seater Spads. Five of these swift little hawks were
+now on the line, making ready for a formation flight.
+
+McGee and Larkin introduced themselves to the officer in command,
+presented their passes and authority for refueling, and McGee requested
+that his tail skid be repaired and his motor checked over.
+
+"Let's stick around and watch this formation flight," McGee then said to
+Larkin. "I want to see what these lads can do with a real ship."
+
+"All right, but don't get goggle-eyed. I came up here to see Paris, and
+I'm thirty minutes behind time now."
+
+The take-off of the five Spads was good, and in order. McGee noticed
+with considerable satisfaction that the flight commander knew his
+business, and the four planes under his direction followed his signaled
+orders with a precision that would have been creditable in any group of
+pilots.
+
+"Nice work!" Red said to an American captain who seemed not at all
+impressed.
+
+The captain was six feet tall, burdened by the weight of rank and the
+ripe old age of twenty-four or twenty-five years, and was somewhat
+skeptical of McGee's judgement. He wondered, vaguely, what this
+youthful, freckle-faced, five-foot-six Royal Flying Corps lieutenant
+could know about nice work. Why, he couldn't be a day over eighteen--in
+fact, he might be less than that. A cadet who had just won his wings,
+probably.
+
+"Oh, fair," the captain admitted.
+
+McGee, sensing what was running through the captain's mind, and having
+no wish to set him right, winked at Larkin and said:
+
+"Let's go, Buzz. It isn't often that two poor ferry pilots get a
+twenty-four hour leave."
+
+Later, as they were bounding cityward in a decrepit, ancient taxi driven
+by a bearded, grizzled Frenchman who without make-up could assume a role
+in a drama of pirates and freebooters, McGee said to Larkin:
+
+"You know, Buzz, I think a lot of these American pilots are better
+prepared for action right now than we were when we got our wings. And we
+had hardly gotten ours sewed on when we were ordered to the front. These
+fellows will give a good account of themselves."
+
+"I think so, too. Do you remember how the Cadets of our class were sent
+up for solo in rickety old planes held together by wire, tape and
+chewing gum? Poor devils, they got washed out plenty fast! I've seen 'em
+go up when the expression on their faces told that they had forgotten
+everything they had learned. No wonder a lot of them took nose dives
+into the hangars and hung their planes on smokestacks and church
+steeples."
+
+McGee frowned, remembering some of the friends who had tried for their
+wings and drew crosses instead. Quickly he threw off the mood with a
+laugh.
+
+"Yes, and I was one of those 'poor devils' who forgot. I'll never forget
+_that_! I had no more right being up in that old Avro than a hog
+has with skates. But England needed pilots and needed them badly. I
+guess it was a case of 'what goes up must come down' and the government
+gave wings to the ones who came down alive. The others got angels'
+wings."
+
+"I suppose so. And before another month passes the need will be greater
+than ever. Look what the Germans did to the British Fifth Army just last
+month. I'll never know what stopped 'em. But they're not through. What
+do you make of that long range gun that is shelling this very city?
+
+"Um-m. Dunno. Seems to me that well directed reconnaissance flights
+should be able to locate that gun."
+
+"Maybe; but locate it or not, its purpose is to drive war workers out of
+Paris, cripple the hub of supplies and make it more difficult for us to
+coordinate the service of supplies through here when they make their
+drive at Paris. It'll come within a month. Then we'll need every pilot
+and every ship that can get its wheels off the ground. I'm tellin'
+you--a month!"
+
+"Think so?"
+
+"I know so! America is going to have her big chance--and may the Lord
+help us if she doesn't deliver! I don't know how many combat troops she
+has landed, but I do know that her eyes, the air service, is in need of
+ships. The French and English are willing to give them all the old, worn
+out flying coffins that they can pick up out of junk heaps--old
+two-seater Spads, old A.R.'s, 1-1/2 strutter Sopwiths, and crates like
+that. If they can get new Spads, like those we saw 'em flying this
+morning, or Nieuport 28's, or the Salmsons which their commander has
+been trying to get, then all will be jake. Otherwise--" he shrugged his
+shoulders expressively.
+
+"Otherwise," McGee took advantage of the pause, "Otherwise they'll
+deliver just the same, even if they have to fly Avros, Caudrons or table
+tops. Buzz, these Americans over here have fight in their eyes. They've
+got spirit."
+
+"Yes, but spirit can't do much without equipment."
+
+"Huh! Ever read any history?"
+
+"What's on your mind now, little teacher? I read enough to pass my exams
+in school."
+
+"Then you've forgotten some things about American history, especially
+about spirit and equipment. Where was the equipment at Valley Forge?
+What about the troops under Washington that took the breastworks at
+Yorktown without a single round of powder--just bayonets? What about the
+war of 1812, when we had no army and the English thought we had no navy?
+You don't remember those--"
+
+"That's just what I do remember," Buzz interrupted, "and that's what I'm
+howling about. We never have been prepared with anything except spirit.
+Right now we have a lot of good pilots over here and the air service is
+having to beg planes from the French and English. And here we are, sent
+down to this front to act as instructors to a shipless squadron, at the
+very time when the Germans are making ready for another big drive. It's
+all wrong. Every minute is precious."
+
+McGee had been looking out of the window of the swaying, lurching cab
+that was now threading its way through hurrying traffic. "Forget it!" he
+said. "Give Old Man Worry a swift kick. Here we are in Gay Paree. The
+war's over for twenty-four hours!"
+
+
+3
+
+To all allied soldiers on leave of absence from the front, Paris
+represented what McGee had voiced to Larkin--a place where the war was
+over for the time limits of their passes. Forgotten, for a few brief
+hours, were all the memories of military tedium, the roar of guns, the
+mud of trenches, the flaming airplane plunging earthward out of
+control--all these things were banished by the stimulating thought that
+here was the world famous city with all its amusements, its arts, its
+countless beauties, open to them for a few magic hours.
+
+The fact that Paris was only a ghost of her former self made no
+impression on war-weary troopers. What mattered it, to them, that the
+priceless art treasures of the Louvre had been removed to the safety of
+the southern interior? Was it their concern that the once mighty and
+fearless Napoleon now lay blanketed by tons of sand bags placed over his
+crypt to protect revered bones from enemy air raids or a chance hit by
+the long range gun now shelling the city? What mattered it that famous
+cafés and chefs were now reduced to the simplest of menus; what
+difference did it make if the streets were darkened at night; who that
+had never seen Paris in peace time could sense that she was a stricken
+city hiding her sorrow and travail behind a mask of dogged, grim
+determination?
+
+Paris was Paris, to the medley of soldiers gathered there from the four
+points of the compass, and it was the more to her credit that she could
+still offer amusement to uniformed men and boys whose war-weary minds
+found here relief from the drive of duty.
+
+Everywhere the streets were swarming with men in uniform--French,
+English, Australian, Canadian, New Zealanders, colored French Colonials,
+a few Russians who, following the sudden collapse of their government,
+were now soldiers lacking a flag, Scotch Highlanders in their gaudy
+kilts, Japanese officers in spick uniforms not yet baptized in the mud
+of the trenches--a varied, colorful parade of young men bent on one
+great common objective.
+
+At night, the common magnet was the theatre, and the _Folies
+Bergeres_, featuring a humorous extravaganza, Zig Zag, in which was
+starred a famous English comedian, drew its full quota of fun-seeking
+youths.
+
+It was this show that McGee and Larkin had come to see, and at the end
+of the first act they were ready to add their praises to the chorus of
+approval. During the intermission they strolled out into the flag
+bedecked foyer to mingle with a crowd that was ninety per cent military
+and which was in a highly appreciative frame of mind. One particularly
+pleasing note had been added rather unexpectedly when one of the
+feminine stars, in singing "Scotland Forever," had been interrupted by a
+group of Highlanders who boosted onto the stage a red-headed,
+bandy-legged, kilted Scotchman who had the voice of a nightingale. And
+when, somewhat abashed, he took up the refrain, he was joined by a
+thunderous chorus from the audience that made the listeners certain that
+Scotland would never die so long as such fervor remained in the hearts
+of her sons. The English soldiers, not to be outdone, had followed with
+"God Save the King" and then, down the aisle with a flag torn from the
+walls of the foyer stalked an American sergeant, holding aloft Old Glory
+and leading his countrymen in the singing of "The Star Spangled Banner."
+
+Trust a group of soldiers to take charge of a show and run it to suit
+themselves. But they were pleased, beyond question, as was evidenced by
+the buzzing conversations during the intermission.
+
+"Great show, eh?"
+
+"I'll tell the world!"
+
+"Hey, Joe! You old son-of-a-gun! How'd you get down here? Thought you
+were wiped out up at Wipers."
+
+"Huh! Not me! They haven't made the shell that can get me. Look who's
+over there with a nice cushy wound to keep him out of trouble. Old Dog
+Face himself. Hey! Dog Face ... Come here!"
+
+Such were the greetings of soldiers who hid their real feelings behind a
+mask of flippancy.
+
+McGee drew Larkin into an eddy of the milling throng where they could
+the better watch what Red termed "the review of the nations." A
+strapping big Anzac, with a cockily rosetted Rough Rider hat, strolled
+arm in arm with a French Blue Devil from the Alpine Chasseurs. A kilted
+Highlander, three years absent from his homeland and bearing four wound
+stripes on his sleeve, was trying vainly to teach the words of "Scotland
+Forever" to a Russian officer whose precise English did not encompass
+the confusing Scotch burr. Mixed tongues, mixed customs, variety of
+ideals; infantrymen, cavalrymen, artillerymen, war pilots; men with grey
+at the temples and beardless youths; here and there a man on crutches,
+here and there an empty sleeve, and many breasts upon which hung medals
+awarded for intrepid courage; here grizzled old Frenchmen with backs
+bowed by three years of warfare, and there fresh, clean young Americans
+recently landed and a little amazed that they should be looked upon as
+the hope of the staggering allies. Color, color, color! Confused
+tongues, the buzz and babble of a thousand half-heard conversations, the
+fragments of marching songs! Here was a cross section of the Allied
+Armies, all of them with but one purpose. How could they fail!
+
+The scene had a telling effect upon McGee and Larkin. Wordless, for a
+few minutes, they stood watching the throng. It was McGee who spoke
+first.
+
+"Did you ever see anything like it, Buzz? Just look at the different
+uniforms. There--look over there! A bunch of American Blue Jackets.
+Wonder how they got here?"
+
+"Humph! Wonder how all of us got here? That's what I've been thinking
+about. This is just a moment snatched from the lives of all these
+fellows. What went before? What homes did they come from, and who is
+waiting for them? And what comes to them to-morrow? Gee!" He shook his
+head, slowly. "It doesn't do to think about it. You want to find out
+about them ... and you get to wishing they could all go on back home
+to-morrow. Say, who started this talk, anyhow? Come on, let's go back
+in."
+
+"Wait a minute!" McGee seized his arm and turned him around. "There's
+plenty of time before the curtain. Look, Buzz. See that black fellow
+over there in French Colonial O.D.? Came from Algiers, I guess, or
+Senegal, maybe. What brought him here, and what sort of stories will he
+tell ... when he gets back home? Will he tell about what he did, or will
+he talk about what he saw and what others did?"
+
+"Dunno. Why?"
+
+"Well, this has set me to thinking. We're all here on exactly the same
+business. The uniform doesn't count so much, nor does the branch of the
+service. It's just a question of getting the job done--a sort of 'Heave
+Ho! All together, now!' Get me?"
+
+"Yes--I guess so. What are you driving at?"
+
+"This. See that American sergeant over there--the one who carried the
+flag down the aisle and jumped up on the stage?"
+
+"Yes. Big fellow, isn't he?"
+
+"You said it! The biggest duck in this puddle, in more ways than one.
+And I want to get into the uniform he is wearing. Understand, Buzz? Oh,
+I'm proud enough of the one I'm wearing, but when he started the
+national anthem, and they all came in on that chorus, 'Oh, say can you
+see, by the dawn's early light,'--well, I felt cold shivers running up
+and down my backbone. None of the other songs did that to me. Do you get
+me, Buzz?"
+
+"Sure. I felt it, too." He put both his hands on Red's shoulders,
+holding him off at arm's length. "You want back under the old Stars and
+Stripes, don't you? ... you little shrimp!"
+
+"Yes," slowly, "and--yet--"
+
+"I know how you feel. I'm with you, fellow, when you get ready to make
+the change."
+
+McGee's eyes lighted with surprise and joy. "Really, Buzz?"
+
+"Surest thing you know!"
+
+"And you don't think we'd feel like--like--"
+
+"We'd feel like two Americans, _going home_. Shake, little feller!
+There, I feel better already. Come on, let's go in; that's the curtain
+bell."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+Night Raiders
+
+
+1
+
+On the following Tuesday morning a group of two Spads and several
+Nieuports were delivered to Major Cowan's pursuit squadron at Is Sur
+Tille. A Lieutenant Smoot, one of the ferry pilots who had flown up one
+of the Nieuports, sought to ease the pain caused by his own lowly
+calling by taunting Tex Yancey--an extremely dangerous pastime, for Tex
+had a ready tongue.
+
+"When you buckoes have washed out these planes," he said, "the Old Man
+will see the error of his way and send us up to do the real flying.
+What's left of this gang will then be put to ferrying. Did any of you
+ever see a Spad or Nieuport before?"
+
+Yancey, standing well over six feet, looked down on him pityingly. "Did
+you say your name was Smoot, or Snoot? Smoot, eh. Well, transportation
+_to the rear_ is waitin' for you at headquarters. Don't let me keep
+you waitin'. I'm surprised you're not pushin' a wheelbarrow in a labor
+battalion, the way you set that Nieuport down a few minutes ago. Clear
+out, soldier! This squadron is gettin' ready to do some plain and fancy
+flyin'. I don't want you to have heart trouble."
+
+"Humph! You'll have heart trouble the first time you try to land one of
+those Spads. You'll think you have been trained on a peanut roaster.
+Who's the Britisher over there snooping around with Cowan?"
+
+"Name's McGee. But he's not a Limey; he's an American. I'm told he won a
+coupla medals in the R.F.C., and has sixteen Huns to his credit. He
+must be good--though he doesn't wear the medals to prove it. Not a bit
+of swank."
+
+"What's he doing here?"
+
+"He's an instructor," Yancey replied without hesitation.
+
+"Oh Ho! So you still need instruction? I heard that Cowan knows it all."
+
+"Naw, he only knows half, and you know the other half. Too bad both sets
+of brains wasn't put in one head. In that case somebody would have been
+almost half-witted. Better toddle along, soldier. The animals are goin'
+on a rampage in a minute."
+
+"Yeah? Well, turn 'em loose. I'm something of a big game hunter myself.
+What sort of a flyer is this instructor?"
+
+"Dunno. We'll see in a minute, maybe. He's crawling in that Spad. Yep,
+they're turnin' her around. Don't go now. You can learn a lot here."
+
+During the next ten minutes the entire squadron, and the ferry pilots,
+were given an excellent opportunity to form their own conclusions about
+McGee's ability to fly. He took the Spad aloft, in test, and plunged
+through a series of acrobatics that served to convince all watchers that
+here was a man whose real element was the air. Ship and man were one.
+
+The group on the ground watched, open-mouthed, despite the fact that
+they themselves were flyers of no mean ability. But they had never flown
+such ships as the Spads, and the prospect and possibilities made their
+hearts race with feverish eagerness to take off in one of these trim
+little hawks.
+
+Yancey and Smoot had now joined the watching group around Major Cowan,
+and as McGee rolled at the top of a loop, Yancey turned to the doubting
+ferry pilot.
+
+"Yes, I think he can fly. What do you think, brother? When you can do
+stick work like that, you'll be sent up here to join us."
+
+Major Cowan was equally envious, but he was not one to betray it. "A
+very bad example," he commented, testily. "An excellent pilot,
+doubtless, but reckless. His take-off, for instance. He zoomed too long.
+I want to warn you against such a mistake."
+
+The ferry pilot, Smoot, decided to take a chance. "The example seems
+good enough, and if that fellow's flying is a mistake, I'm sure Brigade
+would like to see a lot more mistakes like him."
+
+"The commander of this squadron will answer to Brigade for the conduct
+of this group, Lieutenant Smoot," Major Cowan retorted with such acidity
+that the poor ferryman decided it was time to join his own group and
+head for the base. But before taking his departure he relieved his mind
+in the presence of Yancey, Siddons and Hampden, who had drawn away from
+Cowan through a desire to watch the flying rather than listen to his
+lectures on the art of flying.
+
+"If you had a flyer like that one up there for a C.O.," Smoot said to
+them, "you'd get somewhere in this little old war. But as it is, you
+have my sympathy. Well, toodle-oo, _mes enfants_. Be careful with
+those Spads. They were built for flyers."
+
+"You be careful that you don't fall out of that motor cycle side car on
+the way back," Yancey retorted. "They look like baby carriages, but
+they're not."
+
+As Smoot walked away, stung by this last retort, Yancey turned to
+Hampden and Siddons. "How'd you like to have a flyer like that in this
+outfit?" he asked.
+
+"He's all right," Hampden replied. "A lot of the ferry pilots are crack
+flyers--just a tough break in the game. It might have happened to you."
+
+"I wasn't talkin' about _him_" Yancey replied and pointed to
+McGee's plane, now banking in to a landing at the far end of the field.
+"I meant that bird down there."
+
+"Oh, McGee?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+Hampden laughed, skeptically. "Fine chance to get a flyer like that!"
+
+"Oh, I dunno. Some American outfit will draw him. He and that other
+fellow, Larkin, have asked to be repatriated."
+
+"How do you know?"
+
+"I was with 'em in town last night and they told me all about it. They
+flew up to Paris day before yesterday, and on the way back they landed
+at Chaumont and made a call on G.H.Q. They put their case before the
+Chief of Staff and asked him to use his influence. They've made out
+formal application. Both of them are tickled pink over the prospect.
+McGee said he would like to get with this squadron."
+
+"Bully for him!" Hampden enthused. "Maybe we don't look so bad, if
+fellows like that are willing to throw in with us, eh, Tex?"
+
+Siddons was coldly skeptical. "You have the weirdest imagination. Why
+should he want to be with us?"
+
+"Dunno. Ask him."
+
+"I shall," Siddons answered as he moved over toward the point where he
+estimated McGee's taxiing plane would come to a stop.
+
+"Big stiff!" Yancey said under his breath. "He'll ask him, all right,
+and right out in meetin'. He never believes anything he hears until he
+has asked a thousand questions about it. What do you see in that fellow
+to like, Hamp?"
+
+"He's all right, Tex. He was pretty decent to me while I was acting as
+Supply during that time Cowan grounded me. Came around to help me with
+the paper work and put in a good word for me."
+
+"Yeah, he's always chummy with Supply and Operations--but only because
+he thinks he can get some favors that way. I despise him."
+
+"Oh, come now! You mustn't feel that way. We are all in the same boat,
+and we'd as well be chummy."
+
+"Huh! If you ever get in the same boat with that fellow he will do the
+steerin' while you do the rowin'. He gives me a pain!"
+
+
+2
+
+Two weeks later orders came down concentrating several pursuit,
+observation and bombing groups in the neighborhoods of Commercy and
+Nancy. The members of the squadrons to which McGee and Larkin had been
+detailed were feverish with excitement. Operations and armament officers
+were busy with the duties incident to making all planes ready for
+combat. This could mean but one thing--Action!
+
+Three nights after the move McGee and Larkin sat at a late dinner in one
+of the little cafés on the main street of the small French town. They
+were discussing the progress of their work and each was heatedly
+contending that his own group was superior in every way.
+
+"Just come over and watch my flight do formation work," Larkin urged.
+"They'll open your eyes."
+
+"Humph! You'd better open your own eyes! I have watched you. We were up
+in the sun this morning--five thousand feet above you--and watched you
+for half an hour. A fine bunch you have! We could have smothered you
+like a blanket. Have you ever shown them anything about looking in the
+sun for enemy planes?"
+
+Larkin's face evidenced his chagrin. "Are you kidding me?"
+
+"Not much! We kept right along above you, but in the sun. I'll admit
+they did good work, but oh, how blind! Boy, we're not too far back to
+get jumped on. There have been fights farther back from the lines than
+this. You know Fritz dearly loves to raid 'dromes where new squadrons
+are in training. Believe me, their spy system is perfect. I'd be willing
+to wager my right eye that they know these groups are stationed in this
+area, how long they have been in France, and just what types of planes
+we are using. They've the best spy system in the world. You know how
+many times they have raided green squadrons. They figure it puts the
+wind up a bunch of inexperienced men. So keep your eye peeled. And if
+you want to see something pretty, come over and watch my gang. They're
+ready for combat work right now--except Siddons."
+
+Larkin looked up in surprise. "I thought you told me he knew more about
+the planes and about flying than any of the others."
+
+"He does. But he can't--or won't--keep in formation. He cuts out, and
+goes joy-riding."
+
+"Seems to me I remember someone else who used to do that same little
+stunt," Larkin said, smiling reminiscently.
+
+McGee flushed. "Yes, I suppose I did, but not in training. I never cut
+formation until--"
+
+"Until you saw something that looked like meat. Don't try to kid me,
+Red. You've dragged me into too many dog fights. Do you think I have
+forgotten the day we were out having a look-see, five of us, and spotted
+five Albatrosses below? Bingo! Down you went like a shot, and the rest
+of us had to follow to keep you from being made into mincemeat. Talk
+about being blind! All the time a bigger flock of Fokkers were in the
+sun above us and they came down like 'wolves on the fold.' Fellow, you
+had your little faults. Don't be too hard on Siddons."
+
+"Cutting formation to get in a fight and cutting to go joy-riding are
+two different things. If it were anyone else but Siddons I'd ask Cowan
+to ground him."
+
+"You like him?"
+
+"Emphatically, NO! And he knows it. That's why I hesitate to make an
+example of him. He would think that I was satisfying a grudge. Besides,
+he has some sort of a drag with someone. Cowan thinks he is a great
+flyer. He is, too. Knows more about both the technical and practical
+side of the game than any of the others. That's what's wrong with him.
+He is so self-satisfied, so arrogant, and so cocksure of every word he
+utters and every movement he makes. He is the coldest fish I ever met.
+He reminds me of someone--but I can't remember who it is. Sometimes I
+think he is--Listen! What's that?"
+
+McGee's question went unanswered as the shrill blasts of the air raid
+siren shattered the peace of the village with its frenzied warning. It
+moaned, deep-throated, then became panic-stricken and wailed tremulously
+in the higher registers. It was a warning to all to seek the comparative
+safety of the _abris_ which the town had constructed against just
+such an emergency.
+
+The café emptied quickly, but even the quickest followed on the heels of
+McGee and Larkin who, once outside, ran briskly down the street toward
+the house where they were billeted. They halted at the drive entrance to
+gaze upward as great searchlights began playing upon the dark inverted
+bowl of the heavens. The long, shifting beams of light were accusing
+fingers seeking to point out the unwelcome, stealthy nocturnal sky
+prowlers.
+
+"Listen!" McGee gripped Larkin's arm.
+
+Sure enough, from the east, and high above, came the sound of German
+motors, a sound unmistakable by anyone who had once heard their
+unsynchronized drone. It rose and fell, rose and fell, like the hurried
+snoring of a giant made restless by nightmare. The sound was drawing
+nearer. Doubtless it had been heard by the soldiers manning the
+searchlights for the beams now swept restlessly across the eastern sky.
+To the eastward, two or three kilometers, an anti-aircraft battery
+opened fire, and from aloft came the dull _pouf!_ of the exploding
+shells. Vain, futile effort! It was only the angry thundering of
+admitted helplessness. One chance in a million! The motors droned on,
+coming nearer and nearer. Excited townspeople, in wooden sabots,
+clattered down the streets seeking shelter; fear-stricken mothers and
+fathers spoke sharply to their little broods as they hustled them along.
+
+"Buzz," Red said, "it's dollars to doughnuts they're coming here to lay
+some eggs on our 'drome--just to put the wind up these boys. Remember
+what I told you a few minutes ago."
+
+Larkin was more hopeful. "I guess not," he said. "Headed for some supply
+base or ammunition dump farther in, would be my guess. But if they are
+coming here, there's little we can do about it. It's up to the
+anti-aircraft boys."
+
+"Hum-m," McGee mused. "I wonder."
+
+A motor cycle, with side car, running without lights, came popping down
+the street. Without hesitation McGee ran out into the middle of the
+street, waving his arms and shouting wildly. The motor cycle swerved
+sharply, missed the dancing, gesticulating figure and skidded to a stop.
+
+"Say, what's eatin' you, soldier?" demanded the irate American motor
+cycle orderly.
+
+For answer McGee sprang into the side car and barked a few crisp, sharp
+orders that brooked no hesitation. The responsive little motor roared
+its staccato eagerness as the machine lurched forward, leaving Larkin
+speechless and wondering.
+
+"What do you know about that?" he mused. "Now what can that little
+shrimp be up--" he hesitated, struck by the same thought, he felt sure,
+that had plunged McGee into such sudden action. Then he began shouting
+for the driver of their motor car.
+
+"Martins! Martins! Oh, Martins!" Blast the fellow, doubtless he was
+already in some place of security. "Martins! Oh, Martins!"
+
+A door flew open, letting out a beam of light as Martins came out, clad
+only in his underclothes and yawning prodigiously.
+
+"Did you call, sir?" he asked, blinking foolishly as he studied the
+flashing rays of the sky-searching lights.
+
+"Yes! Get the car! Snappy, now!"
+
+"Yes, sir. Just as soon as I can get on some clothes."
+
+"Hang the clothes! Get the car--and set the road afire between here and
+the 'drome. Move! Don't stand there blinking like a blooming owl."
+
+Martins sped around the house, a white-clad figure racing bare-footed
+for the car and muttering under his breath every time his flying feet
+struck bits of gravel and sharp stones. The sound of the airplane motors
+was now much nearer; the siren was still screaming its fright;
+anti-aircraft guns were futilely belching steel into the air, and the
+searchlights were getting jumpy in their haste to locate the intruders
+and hold them in a beam of light.
+
+
+3
+
+Martins, with Larkin seated at his side, hurled the car through the
+narrow streets and out to the airdrome with a daring recklessness known
+only to war-trained chauffeurs who could push a car faster without
+lights than most people would care to ride in broad daylight. But their
+speed was slow compared to that made by the surprised motor cycle
+orderly who had thundered off with McGee, and when Larkin sprang from
+the car as it screeched to a stop at the edge of the 'drome his ear
+caught the sound of a Clerget motor pounding under an advanced throttle
+as it lifted a plane from the ground at the far end of the dark field.
+An excited, buzzing group of pilots and mechanics were huddled together
+on the tarmac near the circus tent that served as a hangar, and still
+more men were emerging hastily from the humpbacked, black steel
+elephants that served them as quarters.
+
+Larkin ran toward the group near the hangar entrance,
+
+"Where's McGee?" he shouted, knowing the answer but hoping for some word
+that would give the lie to what his ears told him. He knew that the
+plane which had now swung back over the field and was roaring directly
+above as it battled for altitude was none other than McGee's balky
+little Camel. But no one answered him; they merely stared, as men who
+have just witnessed a feat of daring too noble for words, or as girls
+who face an impending tragedy and are too horror-stricken for action.
+
+"Where's McGee?" Larkin shouted again. "Don't stand there like a bunch
+of yaps! You'll be getting a setting of high explosive eggs here in a
+minute. Don't you hear that siren? Those Boche planes? Where's McGee, I
+asked you?"
+
+Yancey stepped from the group and pointed up.
+
+"I reckon that's him up yonder," he said in the slow drawl that was
+doubly maddening at such a moment. "He blew in here a few minutes ago
+like a Texas Panhandle twister, ordered the greaseballs to roll his
+plane on the line, and was off before she was good and warm. I reckon--"
+
+Larkin did not wait to learn what Yancey reckoned. He dashed toward the
+hangar, shouting orders as he ran.
+
+Major Cowan stepped from the hangar, barring the way. "Just a minute,
+Lieutenant! What is it you want?"
+
+"What do I want? I want a plane on the line--quick!"
+
+"No! Lieutenant McGee took off before we knew what it was all about. It
+is madness. You can't have--"
+
+He stopped speaking to listen. From high above, and a little to the
+east, came the throbbing sound of German motors that in a few more
+seconds would be over the airdrome. Indeed, they might be circling now,
+getting their bearing and making sure of location. At that moment one of
+the large motor mounted searchlights near the hangar began combing the
+sky.
+
+"Go tell those saps to cut that light!" Larkin shouted, hoping that the
+Major would be stampeded into action that would provide the slenderest
+chance for him to get the mechanics to roll a Spad to the line before
+Cowan could know what was happening. "Better cut it! If the others can't
+find 'em, this one can't. It will only serve as a path of light for one
+of those babies up there to slide down and leave you some presents you
+don't want."
+
+Major Cowan was not one to go legging it about on errands. Besides,
+searchlights were provided for just such uses. Then too, he rather
+suspected Larkin's motives, and Larkin realized this.
+
+"Please let me have one of those Spads, Major," he pleaded. "Can't you
+understand--McGee and I are buddies. With two of us up there we might
+turn 'em back."
+
+"No! It is too hazardous. This squadron is still in training. We are not
+trained as night flyers, and certainly are not prepared to give combat
+to a flight of bombers."
+
+Larkin's anger smashed through his long training. All rank faded from
+his mind.
+
+"Not trained, eh? Major Cowan, that freckle-faced kid up there is a
+night flying fool--and I'm his twin brother. Get out of my way. Oh,
+greaseballs! Hey, you Ack Emmas! Roll out one of those Spads and--"
+
+"Lieutenant!" Cowan barked. "You forget yourself. If you want to do
+night fighting go over to your own group and use your own plane! You
+forget yourself. I am still in command here!"
+
+From aloft came the momentary stutter of two machine guns. Ah! McGee
+testing and warming his guns as he climbed. Oh, the fool! The precious,
+daring fool!
+
+Larkin sat down on the tarmac, _ker plunk!_ Let 'em raid. What
+mattered it? He rather hoped one of them would be accurate enough to
+plant a bomb on the top of Cowan's head.
+
+"Yes, you are in command," he said, rather limply, "but why didn't you
+stop McGee? And since you are in command, in Heaven's name tell that
+light crew to cut that light. It would be just their fool, blundering
+luck to spot McGee and hold him for the Archies."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+Victory
+
+
+1
+
+McGee, holding up the nose of his Camel at an angle that gave the motor
+every ounce it would stand, was thinking the same alarming thought that
+had just run through Larkin's mind. It would be just his luck to be
+spotted by the searchlight crew and held in its beam. If so, would they
+recognize him? Would they see the ringed cockades on his wings, or would
+eager anti-aircraft gunners start blazing away? Even if they recognized
+the plane, his whole plan would be knocked into a cocked hat should that
+telltale streamer of light point him out to the enemy planes above who
+must now be looking sharp. Darkness was both his ally and his foe.
+
+McGee was too experienced to have any mistaken notions about the hazard
+of his endeavor. He knew what he was up against. In the first place, any
+bombing plane was a formidable foe, and he could not know how many were
+coming on this mission. All bombers were heavily armed, and had the
+advantage of having at least one man free to repel attack with twin
+machine guns. Many of the heavier German bombing planes carried crews of
+four or five men, though these were used in attack on highly important
+bases and would hardly be sent on a mission of this nature. Such
+machines were quite slow and not capable of being manoeuvered quickly,
+but their very size added to their invulnerability and their heavy
+armament made them a thing to be avoided by any single fighter mounted
+in a pursuit plane. Many pursuit pilots had learned the bitter lesson
+attached to a thoughtless, poorly planned attack upon a bomber or
+two-seater observation bus. They looked like an appetizing meal--but one
+must have a strong stomach if he finishes the feast.
+
+McGee knew, also, that the oncoming raiders might be pursuit planes
+converted into bombers by the simple expedient of attaching bomb
+releases carrying lighter pellets of destruction which could be released
+by the pilot. This was not an unusual procedure, especially when the
+success of the venture might hinge upon speed. Such planes could strike
+swiftly, more easily avoid Archie fire, and having struck their blow
+could outdistance any antagonist with the nerve to storm through the
+night sky in pursuit.
+
+So, as McGee climbed he realized that he was facing the unknown. The
+prospect of a raid had been his challenge; the size and strength of his
+enemy was unknown. So be it, he thought, and warmed his guns with a
+short burst as he continued climbing. Their quick chatter served to
+reassure him and for the moment he quite forgot how useless they would
+be should he chance to go crashing into one of the bombers. He felt that
+all would be well if only those saps on the ground would cut that
+searchlight. Didn't they know that it would simply serve as a guide to
+the plane whose mission it would be to dive at the field and release
+ground flares to mark the target for the bombers? Of course they
+wouldn't think of that. Green! And with a lot to learn.
+
+Two or three times the beam of light flashed perilously near him, and
+once his plane was near enough to the edge of the beam for the glass on
+his instrument board to reflect the rays. Then, a moment later, the
+glaring one-eyed monster dimmed, glowed red, and darkness leaped in from
+all sides. But only for a moment. Other lights, from more distant
+points, were still combing the sky. These concerned Red not so much as
+the one near the hangar. Strangely, as is the way with men at war, he
+cared not so much what wrath might be called down on other places if
+only his own nest remained unviolated. Indeed, he found himself
+entertaining the hope that the raiders might become confused and drop
+their trophies in somebody else's back yard.
+
+Then, as suddenly as a magician produces an object out of the thin air,
+one of the distant searchlights fixed upon one of the enemy planes. It
+was a single seater, McGee noted, and though somewhat southeast of the
+position he had expected, it was already pointing its nose down on a
+long dive that would undoubtedly carry it to a good position over the
+'drome for dropping flares.
+
+McGee knew the tactics. This was the plane whose job it was to spot the
+target for the bombers and then zoom away. Then the vultures would come
+droning over the illuminated field and drop their eggs.
+
+Red kicked his left rudder and came around on a sharp climbing bank. By
+skill, or by luck, the light crew still held their beam on the
+black-crossed plane and in a twinkling two other lights were centered on
+it.
+
+McGee made a quick estimate of distance and of the other's flying speed.
+Then he nosed over, slightly, on a full throttle, and drove along a line
+which he thought would intersect the dive of the enemy. He could hardly
+hope to get him in the ring sights; it was a matter of pointing the
+plane in what he thought was the correct line of fire and let drive with
+both guns.
+
+The wind was beginning to scream and tear at the struts of the
+hard-pushed Camel. Speed was everything now. If that diving German plane
+once dropped its flares, the others, somewhere in the darkness above,
+would sow destruction on the field.
+
+The distance was yet too great for anything like effective fire, but
+McGee decided to take a chance. After all, the whole thing was chance.
+He had one chance in a thousand to thwart their plans, very slim chances
+for bagging one of them, and some excellent chances to get bagged!
+
+"Very well," he found himself saying in answer to these swift thoughts.
+"Carry on!"
+
+Rat-tat-tat-tat-tat! Both his guns began their scolding chatter. Too far
+to the right--and below. He ruddered left and pulled her nose up a
+trifle. There! Again the guns spewed out their vengeful chorus.
+
+At this second burst the German plane seemed to yaw off, then righted
+itself, leveled off and flew straight at McGee.
+
+Red felt a momentary elation that the enemy had at least been made
+conscious of the attack and was, for the moment, forced to abandon his
+objective. Two beams of light still held him mercilessly. Doubtless they
+served to blind him and this advantaged McGee who, unseen in the
+darkness, kept his Vickers going. Some of the bullets must have gone
+home for the German swerved suddenly and began a series of acrobatics in
+an effort to escape the lights. But disturbed as he was, he evidently
+kept his mission in mind for he continued to lose altitude and thus draw
+nearer the field where he could drop his flares.
+
+McGee decided to nose over and then zoom up under his belly--by far the
+most vulnerable point of attack but one in which the moment of fire is
+brief indeed, for Camels will not long hang by their "props."
+
+Just as McGee dived the enemy swerved quickly and also began a dive. His
+diving angle was sharp; his speed tremendous. Doubtless he had
+determined to carry out his mission and get away from an exceedingly hot
+spot as quickly as possible. By the fortunes of war his diving angle cut
+directly across McGee's path. Close--almost too close! A brief burst
+spat from McGee's Vickers in that heart-chilling moment when collision
+seemed inevitable, but McGee pulled sharply back on his stick and
+zoomed. Whew! It was no cinch, this fighting a light-blinded enemy.
+
+McGee glanced back. The lights had lost the plane as suddenly as they
+had found it. Night had swallowed it. Now there was an unseen enemy that
+might--
+
+Ah! McGee sucked in his breath sharply. A tiny tongue of flame was
+shooting through the sky. For a second it was little more than the flame
+of a match, but in a few seconds it developed into greedy, licking
+flames that turned the German plane into a flaming rocket. The pilot,
+manfully seeking escape from such a death, began side slipping in a vain
+effort to create an upward draft that would keep the flames from
+incinerating him in his seat. For the briefest moment he did a first
+class job of it, and McGee, who a minute before had been hungry for
+victory, felt first a wave of admiration for a skillful job of flying
+and next a surge of pity that it must be of no avail. Even now the plane
+was wobbling out of control ... then it nosed over and plunged
+earthward, a flaming meteor.
+
+Fascinated, McGee watched the plunge, climbing a little as he circled.
+He was three times an ace with two for good measure, seventeen victories
+in the air, but this was his first night flamer. It was far more
+spectacular than he could have imagined ... and somehow a little more
+unnerving. A moment ago that doomed creature had been a man courageous
+enough to undertake any hazard his country demanded. Enemy or no, he was
+a man of courage and in his own country was a patriot.
+
+McGee felt very weak, and not at all elated. After all, he knew there
+were no national boundaries to valor or patriotism, and however sweet
+the victory it must always carry the wormwood of regret that the
+vanquished will see no more red dawnings and go out on no more dawn
+patrols. That plunging, flaming plane was as a lighted match dropped
+into a deep well--the deep well of oblivion.
+
+The plane struck the earth some three or four hundred yards to the west
+of the 'drome. The flames, leaping afresh, lighted up the entire
+vicinity. McGee, looking down, could see the dim outline of the hangar
+tent and the running figures that were racing toward the burning plane.
+He smiled, rather grimly, and his eyes searched the heavens above him.
+The vultures had their target now!
+
+At that moment one of the restless searchlights singled out one of the
+bombers, high above him, and two other streams of light leaped to the
+same spot. Another plane was caught in the beam. The anti-aircraft now
+had their target, and they lost no time. There came two or three of the
+sharp barks so characteristic of anti-aircraft guns, and coincident with
+the sound the bursting shells bloomed into great white roses perilously
+near the leading plane. It rocked, noticeably, and shifted its course.
+Then, seemingly, all the Archies in the countryside, within range and
+out of range, began filling that section of the sky with magically
+appearing roses that in their blooming sent steel balls and flying
+fragments searching the sky.
+
+The upper air was quickly converted into an inferno of bursting shells
+and whining missiles of jagged steel. The enemy bombers, due to the
+delay caused by McGee's unexpected attack upon the plane whose mission
+it had been to drop the ground flares, had now worked themselves into a
+rather awkward formation and were faced with the responsibility of
+making instant decision whether they should now release their bombs in a
+somewhat hit or miss fashion or run for it and individually select some
+other spot for depositing their T.N.T. hate as they made their way
+homeward.
+
+The embarrassment of their position was but little greater than that of
+McGee's. The burning plane offered sufficient light for landing, but it
+was also lighting up the hangars and the field, and he momentarily
+expected the enemy to let go with their bombs. It would not be pleasant
+down there when those whistling messengers began to arrive. His present
+position was equally unhealthy, even though he had considerably reduced
+his altitude. Any minute--yes, any second--some searchlight crew might
+pick him up, and there is never any telling what an excited
+anti-aircraft battery crew might do.
+
+McGee made the decision which is always reached by an airman who finds
+himself in unhealthy surroundings: he would simply high-tail it away
+from there until "the shouting and the tumult" subsided. He swung into
+the dark sky to the north and then dived down until he felt that any
+less altitude would be extremely likely to bring him afoul of some
+church steeple or factory smokestack.
+
+One of the German pilots decided to take a chance and release his bombs.
+Their reverberating detonations were terrifying enough, but aside from
+the ugly holes they made in the open field, some five hundred yards away
+from the 'drome, they accomplished nothing in the balance of warfare.
+The other planes, finding the welcome a bit too warm, took up a zig-zag
+course toward the Fatherland, but in a general course that would take
+them back over Nancy, where they could find a larger target for their
+bombs.
+
+McGee, looking back, could see the searchlights sweeping eastward in
+their efforts to keep the fleeing planes spotted. But their luck had
+already been great indeed, and now they were again feverishly searching
+the black and seemingly empty sky.
+
+"Good time to tool this baby home," McGee thought as he swung around and
+headed for the 'drome, its location still well marked for him by the
+flickering flames of the fallen ship.
+
+"Poor old Nancy!" he said aloud as he realized that the thwarted bombers
+would likely spew out their hate on that sorely tried city. "I'm sorry
+to wish this off on you, but you are used to it and these lads are not.
+Talk about luck! I wonder what good angel is perched on my shoulder."
+
+Back over the 'drome he signaled with his Very light pistol for landing
+lights, his take-off having been too sudden to permit of thinking of
+ground flares. He circled the field, waiting for the lights. No
+response. He signaled again. Still no response.
+
+"Too much excitement, I guess," he mused. Then he flew low over the
+remains of the burning plane, around which had gathered a large
+group--large enough, McGee thought, to include every man of the squadron
+from the C.O. down to the lowliest greaseball.
+
+"Humph! A fine target you'd make!" Red snorted, and felt like throwing
+his Very pistol into the group. "Well, here goes! I've made darker
+landings than this. And if I crack up--" he smiled as a grim Irish bull
+flashed through his mind--"it will be a good lesson to the ground crew.
+Nothing like Irish humor at a time like this."
+
+
+2
+
+If one who stands less than five feet six and is freckled of face and
+red of hair can command hauteur and dignity, then it can be said that a
+few minutes later McGee, with hauteur and dignity, strode into the
+excited, gabbling group that surrounded the burning German plane. For a
+moment none of them recognized him. With hands on hips, arms akimbo, he
+stood watching them. He was still just a little too mad to trust his
+tongue.
+
+Major Cowan was the first to notice him. "Ah! Lieutenant McGee! I am--"
+
+"No sir, I am Lieutenant McGee's ghost. McGee got his neck broken over
+there just now--trying to make a landing in the dark. Your ground crew
+were exceedingly helpful to him, Major. So nice of them to obey his
+signals so promptly."
+
+For once Cowan was at a disadvantage. "Gad, man! Did you signal?"
+
+"Oh, yes. I waved my hand. Rather original idea, don't you think?
+Perhaps you weren't expecting me to come back."
+
+"Frankly, Lieutenant, I wasn't." The look on Cowan's face was one of
+genuine admiration. "You have done a courageous thing, Lieutenant--and I
+thought it foolhardy. I said as much to Lieutenant Larkin, and I
+apologize to you, here, in the presence of all these men who witnessed
+your courage."
+
+All the others thereupon surged around McGee, pumping his hand
+vigorously and clapping him on the back.
+
+McGee's anger faded. It was a thing that never stayed long with him.
+
+"Is Larkin here?" he asked.
+
+"He was," Cowan answered. "Came a few minutes after you took off, but
+when I refused him a ship he got mad as a hornet, bawled out the light
+crew and--and me, and then jumped back in his car and rode off. Rather
+tempestuous fellow."
+
+"If he had stayed here," McGee said, regretfully, "my Camel wouldn't now
+be standing over yonder on its nose with its undercarriage wiped off.
+He'd at least think of landing lights." He pushed his way through the
+crowd toward the burning embers of the twisted, broken and charred
+plane. "Pilot burned to a crisp, I suppose," he mused half aloud.
+
+Hampden, who was standing nearest, answered:
+
+"No, the poor devil jumped. Landed over there by the road. They carried
+him over to the hospital tent. Not a--a whole bone in his body." His
+voice seemed choked. "It's a--a fearful way to go."
+
+"A sporting way, I would say," Siddons spoke up. "Even in the last
+moment he rather cheated you, McGee. He escaped the flames, anyhow."
+
+McGee looked at Siddons searchingly. In those cold grey eyes and in the
+half-taunting smile there was none of the sympathy or natural, normal
+emotion that had so choked Hampden's voice.
+
+"He did not cheat me, Lieutenant Siddons," McGee said, his voice edged
+by his dislike of the man. "I am only one of the small factors in this
+unfortunate game. Duty may be pursued without wanting to see others
+suffer. He was a brave man. I salute him." He turned to Cowan. "Major
+Cowan, if your crew had attempted to extinguish these flames we might
+have added a great deal to our knowledge of the progress the enemy is
+making. I could not recognize this plane in the air. I think it is a new
+type."
+
+"By Jove! I never thought of it."
+
+McGee turned away to conceal an expression which he could not control,
+and as he did so he heard Yancey growl to Hampden:
+
+"What a first-rate kitchen police in a Home Guard outfit that bimbo
+would make!"
+
+As McGee walked back toward the hangar, Hampden and Siddons joined him.
+He felt Hampden give his elbow a congratulatory squeeze. Then Siddons
+said:
+
+"Are you going over to have a look at your fallen adversary,
+Lieutenant?"
+
+"Oh, I say, Siddons!" Hampden exclaimed, pained and surprised.
+
+"I am going to make out my report," McGee answered, simply. "I wonder if
+you would like to give me a confirmation, Lieutenant Siddons?"
+
+The question took Siddons off his feet. "Why--er--do you really want me
+to?"
+
+"Not especially; I just had a feeling that you would be pleased to have
+your name brought in it somehow."
+
+Several of the pilots followed McGee into the hut used for headquarters,
+but Siddons was not among them. Whatever his feelings, following the
+little instructor's pointed rebuke, he concealed them behind the cool
+indifference which marked all of his actions. At the door to
+headquarters he turned down the gravel walk that ran in front of the row
+of huts used as quarters and was soon lost to sight in the darkness.
+
+
+3
+
+McGee's report of his victory was characteristically laconic. Not a word
+did he employ that was not necessary to the report. No fuss, no
+feathers, no mock heroics. He had engaged an E.A. (enemy aircraft) and
+had sent it down in flames. Reading the report, one would find little
+enough to lift it out of the usual run of reports. Another meeting;
+another victory. No more, no less. Only in the last paragraph did he
+depart from his usual method of reporting. He wrote:
+
+"My Camel carried no ground flares. Twice signaled for landing lights
+with no response. Circled field. Entire personnel was gathered around
+burning E.A. and making no effort to extinguish fire, which by this time
+had nearly consumed plane. Forced to land in dark. Wiped out landing
+gear and shattered prop.
+
+"Recommendation: That all commands advise ground crews that a live pilot
+is of more importance than a dead enemy."
+
+Having finished, he looked up at those who had followed him into
+headquarters. They were gathered in little groups, excitedly discussing
+the victory, which had actually been the first encounter they had
+witnessed. Fortunately, the victory had been on their side and they were
+considerably bucked. It seemed dead easy. Why, one man had gone aloft,
+bagged a plane, thwarted the plans of the enemy and was back on the
+ground before you could tell about it. The war was looking up! And this
+instructor was no slouch. What this squadron wouldn't do to the enemy
+when an over-cautious Chief of Air Service said "Let's go!"
+
+Hearing their comments, McGee smiled. He knew, better than they, the
+great element of luck in his victory.
+
+The enemy, whose aim it had been to thoroughly frighten and subdue this
+green squadron, had succeeded instead in greatly increasing their
+confidence in themselves. The enemy had come to sow destruction; they
+had actually planted a seed that sprang instantly from the ground,
+bearing the bold and sturdy flower of self-confidence. Old dogs of war
+had been unleashed, and now a new pack was yelping on the trail.
+
+"Where is Major Cowan?" McGee asked.
+
+"Over at the hospital tent," someone answered.
+
+"Oh, I see. Perhaps it's just as well. He might not care to sign a
+confirmation after reading my recommendation. Which one of you will give
+me a confirmation?"
+
+As one man they surged forward.
+
+"Just a minute!" Red laughed. "I said which one. On second thought I
+guess I'd better leave that to the C.O. First victory from his squadron,
+you know."
+
+"His squadron nothing!" Yancey growled. "You don't belong to us--yet."
+
+"No, but I'm here by assignment; I wouldn't want to hurt anyone's
+feelings." He chuckled. "I'm afraid, though, that the last paragraph in
+this report has a sort of stinger in it."
+
+"Let's see it," Hampden urged.
+
+McGee handed him the report. Hampden read it, whistled softly and passed
+it to Yancey, who read quite as slowly as he talked. A look of
+disappointment spread over his face.
+
+"It's a report, I reckon," he said slowly, "but it's about as satisfyin'
+as a mess of potato chips would be to a hungry cowhand. It's as thin as
+skimmed milk. Say, who won this fight? You or the other fellow?"
+
+"I believe that report will give me the credit," McGee answered.
+
+"Maybe. And that last paragraph will win somebody a bawlin' out. Cowan
+will ask you to change that. Looks like inefficiency on somebody's
+part."
+
+"Perhaps it is. It goes as it stands. After all, it goes through
+channels to the Royal Flying Corps, you know. I'm flying their ship and
+still under their orders."
+
+"Well, when I get my first one," Yancey replied, "believe me, they'll
+get the full details, and when they get through readin' it they'll think
+I'm the bimbo what invented flyin'. Those white-collared babies at
+Headquarters have to get all their thrills secondhand, and this thing of
+yours is about as thrillin' as the minutes of a Sunday School Meeting."
+
+At that moment Mullins, the peppery little Operations Officer, entered
+the room, his face a mass of wrinkling smiles. He walked over to the
+desk where McGee was seated and from his pockets dumped out a double
+handful of articles, such as army men had learned to list under the
+broad heading--"Souvenirs." There was a wrist watch, a German automatic
+pistol, a silver match box, a leather cigarette case, a belt buckle
+bearing the famous "Gott Mit Uns" and a number of German paper marks.
+
+For a moment McGee sat staring at them, then slowly pushed his chair
+back from the table as he looked up at the smiling Mullins.
+
+"What's this--stuff?" he asked.
+
+"Souvenirs, of course! From your latest victory. Cowan and I decided to
+go over to the hospital and run through the chap's pockets to see if we
+could find anything that should be sent back to Intelligence. Darned if
+Siddons wasn't there ahead of us, getting ready to fill his pockets with
+_your_ souvenirs. I told him to wait until he bagged his own game.
+So there you are--cups, belts and badges!"
+
+McGee gathered up the articles, one by one, and handed them back to
+Mullins.
+
+"Take them back," he ordered, somewhat firmly.
+
+"What!" Mullins' jaw dropped. "You don't want 'em?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Not even _one_--for luck?"
+
+"No. I've never carried anything that belonged to the _other_
+fellow, for luck. Take them back."
+
+Yancey stepped forward, but he was still behind the soft-voiced Edouard
+Fouche, who said:
+
+"I'll take them, then. I'm not so high-minded about it."
+
+Tex Yancey pawed Fouche aside as a bear might sweep aside an annoying
+puppy. "Out of the way, little fellow. We'll divide these spoils of
+war--or we'll draw for 'em. Everyone to draw straws."
+
+"Wait!" McGee interposed himself between Mullins, Yancey, and the
+indignant Fouche. "If you boys want souvenirs, go out and get them for
+yourself. Mullins told Siddons to wait until he bagged his own game.
+That goes here, too. Take 'em back, Mullins. A man of courage has a
+right to his personal belongings--even after he is dead. Take them back
+and let them be buried with him. By the way," he turned back to the desk
+and picked up his report, "I want a confirmation from Major Cowan. Where
+is he?"
+
+"Oh, I forgot to tell you," Mullins replied. "He just jumped in a side
+car and went streaking off to Wing, looking like he thought the war had
+been won. And he took with him a nice little plum for Intelligence. We
+found an order in that pilot's pocket that should have been left
+behind."
+
+"Indeed? What was it?" McGee asked.
+
+"It was in German, of course," Mullins continued, "and Cowan is as
+rotten in German as I am. But Siddons is a shark at it. Speaks half a
+dozen languages, you know, and--"
+
+"No, I didn't know," McGee answered, cryptically.
+
+"Yeah, reads it like English. That order was to the effect that their
+high command had received information that several air units were
+located in this sector, and ours, in particular, was placed to a T. It
+was an order for a bombing group to come over and give us an initiation.
+'Highly important! Highly important!' Cowan said, and busted off for
+Wing. To watch him you'd think he had brought down the plane. It's
+strange, though, how those square-heads find out every move that is made
+on this side of the line."
+
+"They have a wonderful spy system," McGee said. "We learned that well
+enough up on the English front, where we had reason to feel sure of the
+loyalty of every soldier. But the leaks get through. Cowan was right,
+the order was highly important. The Intelligence Department do some
+clever work with the bits of information gathered from first one place
+and another. It's somewhat like piecing an old-fashioned pattern quilt.
+A piece here, a piece there, all seemingly unrelated but in the end
+presenting a distinct pattern. Yes, it's important, I dare say."
+
+Mullins sighed, heavily. "Well then, I suppose Cowan will come back here
+with a chest on him like a Brigadier!"
+
+Yancey laughed, picked up McGee's report and handed it to Mullins. "Read
+that--especially the last paragraph. When Cowan reads that I can see his
+chest droppin' like a toy balloon that meets up with a pin. I sure want
+to be hangin' around when it is presented to him. This war has its
+compensations. Boys, make yourselves comfortable and await the comin' of
+the mighty. It's worth stayin' up all night to see."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+Orders for the Front
+
+
+1
+
+McGee's victory had a most salutary effect upon the personnel of the
+squadron. They lost sight of the fact that he had been highly favored by
+luck in the encounter and that but for luck, coupled with skill, the
+balance might well have been in the enemy's favor. They began to look
+upon victory as a luscious fruit that would always be served to their
+table--defeats were the bitterberries that the enemy must eat.
+
+This attitude was greatly strengthened by another fortunate victory of a
+squadron stationed at Toul. This squadron, while it boasted some
+splendid flyers, was quite green and had much to learn. But, despite
+this, they too had been victors in their first encounter with the enemy,
+and in a manner quite as dramatic as had been McGee's victory. And it
+was more widely heralded because the victor was wearing an American
+uniform and the victory could be properly called the first score for the
+Americans. It came about in this fashion:
+
+A Spring day dawned, cold and foggy, and three members of the squadron
+at Toul had gone on patrol. Their ardor was soon dampened by the chill
+fog and they returned to their base. Shortly after their return the
+alert was sounded and the report came that German planes were coming
+over, concealed by the ceiling of fog. In a few moments their motors
+could be heard above the town. That minute two Americans left the
+ground, climbing rapidly toward the ceiling of fog. Just as they neared
+it, two German planes came nosing down. They were barely clear of the
+blinding fog cloud when they were attacked by the American pilots. So
+swift was the attack, and so accurate the fire, that both German planes
+were forced down and the two American pilots were back on the ground in
+less than five minutes from the time of their take-off.
+
+Luck? Yes, Luck and Skill--the two things that must walk hand in hand
+with every war pilot. But there was no one to be found in all of Toul
+who even hinted of luck. Had not the fight taken place in full view of
+the townspeople? Had they not witnessed the daring and skill of these
+Americans? Luck? Ask the citizens of Toul. Ah, _mais non,
+Messieurs!_ they would tell you. The German planes dived--so. Whoosh!
+Out of the cloud they came. And there were those precious Americans,
+waiting for them--and in just the right place. Is not that skill,
+Monsieur? Then, _taka-taka-taka-taka_ went their guns. Only a
+minute so. _Voila!_ The Boche are both out of control. Ah, that is
+not luck, Monsieur.
+
+All along the front American squadrons accepted the verdict as evidence
+of superior flying ability, but McGee and Larkin, with the knowledge
+bought by bitter experience, knew that perhaps in the very next
+encounter the balance would be in favor of the other fellow. They knew,
+too, that over-confidence is an ally singing a siren song. They worked
+hard to dispel this over-confidence that had laid hold of the group, but
+their words of warning fell on deaf ears.
+
+This spirit of eager confidence was not peculiar to the air groups near
+the front; it was a part of the entire American Expeditionary Force.
+Where was this bloomin' war that seemed so difficult to win? asked the
+American doughboy. Bring it on! Trot it out! Let's get it over and get
+out of this _Parlez vous_ land. Just give them a crack at Fritz!
+Say! In no time at all they'd have Old Bill himself trussed up in chains
+and carried back to the little old U.S.A., and exhibited around the
+country at two-bits a peek. Guess that wouldn't be a nifty way to help
+pay for the war! And as for the Crown Prince--well, over a hundred
+thousand American doughboys had promised to bring his ears back to a
+hundred thousand sweet-hearts--just a little souvenir to show what an
+American could do when he got going.
+
+
+2
+
+This same boastful confidence was present among the pilots with whom
+McGee and Larkin were daily associated, but fortunately it was somewhat
+counterbalanced by the long-delayed orders sending the squadron to the
+front. April slipped away and May came. Still no orders. It was
+maddening! Yancey, Fouche, Hampden, Hank Porter, Rodd--in fact all
+members of the command, save Siddons, fretted and fumed and voiced their
+opinions of a stupid G.H.Q., that failed to appreciate just what a whale
+of a squadron this was.
+
+Siddons accepted the delay in the same cool, indifferent manner with
+which he met all the vexations of the army. It was as water on a duck's
+back; he seemed not to care a hoot whether he ever engaged an enemy.
+Then in May, with alarming suddenness and force, the German Crown Prince
+began his great drive at Paris. His ears, it seemed, were yet intact,
+and those Americans who had so earnestly hoped to get them were soon to
+discover that the possessor thereof was all too safely ensconced behind
+an advancing horde of German infantrymen who were driving forward in a
+relentless, unhalting advance that struck terror to the very heart of
+war-weary France. In three days the enemy forces swept from the Aisne
+southward across the Vesle and the Ourcq. Their most advanced position
+came to rest on the Marne.
+
+For the second time the German army was on the banks of the Marne.
+"Papa" Joffre had hurled them back from this river in the first year of
+the war; now Marshal Foch must do as well--or France was doomed.
+
+But Foch was handicapped. He had an army bled white by four years of
+dreadful warfare. The French soldiers, no less valiant than when the war
+began, found themselves too weak in numbers to stem the tide of an
+advance conducted by an ambition crazed Crown Prince determined to reach
+Paris regardless of the cost to him in human sacrifice.
+
+Sullenly the French fell back, fighting like demons, contesting every
+inch of the way, but none the less retreating. In this hour of peril
+France turned her eyes upon the newly arrived and partially trained
+Americans, and in those eyes, now almost hopeless, was a look of mute,
+desperate appeal. It must be now or never!
+
+All the roads leading back from the front were choked with refugees too
+weary, too heartbroken, too barren of hope to do anything but hurry
+their children before them and strain at their hand drawn, heavy carts
+piled high with the household belongings which they hoped to save. Old
+men, old women, the lame, the halt, the blind; dogs, cats, goats, with
+here and there a dogcart, all struggling to the rear. Many came
+empty-handed, facing they knew not what, and looking with pity upon the
+French troops who were moving forward to battle the enemy unto death.
+
+"Ah," said the refugees, shrugging their shoulders, "_finis la
+guerre!_ These poor Poilus of ours, they cannot stop the Boche. They
+are too tired, too worn with war. If only we had new blood. If only the
+Americans would come now. But no, perhaps it is now too late."
+
+Behind them, all too close, rumbled and roared the angry guns--guns of
+the enemy furrowing fields and leveling houses and villages; guns of the
+French in savage defiance protesting every inch of advance and holding
+on with a rapidly failing strength. Help must come now, quickly.
+
+And help came. Two American divisions, ready for action, were summoned
+by Foch to move forward with all possible speed. The 2nd Division came
+hurrying from their rest billets near Chaumont-en-Vexin, northwest of
+Paris; the 3rd Division came thundering by train and camion from
+Chateau-Villain, southeast of Paris. Two converging lines of fresh,
+eager warriors came marching, marching, the light of battle in their
+eyes and with rollicking, boisterous songs on their lips. At quick rout
+step they came. This was no parade; this was a new giant coming up to
+test its strength. And all up and down the brown columns the giant was
+singing as it came....
+
+    "Mademoiselle from Armentieres,
+        _Parlez vous_,
+    Mademoiselle from Armentieres,
+        _Parlez vous_,
+    Mademoiselle from Armentieres
+    Hasn't been kissed for forty years,
+        Hinkey Dinkey _Parlez vous_!"
+
+Slush, slog! Slush, slog! went the heavy hobnailed shoes slithering
+through the mud and water of the roads. Mile after mile, hour after
+hour. At the end of each weary hour a short rest, an easing of the
+shoulders from the cutting pack straps. Ten minutes only did they rest.
+Then down the long columns rang the sharp commands, "Fall in. Fall in!
+... Com-pan-ee ... Atten-shun! Forward, March!" A few minutes in
+cadenced marching and then the command, "Rout step--March!" Again the
+confident, boisterous giant took up its song:
+
+    "Good-bye Ma, good-bye Pa,
+    Good-bye mule with your old he-haw.
+    I may not know what the war's about
+    But I bet by Gosh I soon find out!
+    O, my sweetheart, don't you fear,
+    I'll bring you a king for a souvenir.
+    I'll bring you a Turk, and the Kaiser too,
+    And that's about all one feller can do."
+
+Marching, singing, jesting, they pressed on until their advance guard
+met the plodding, cheerless, downcast refugees. The French peasants
+halted in their tracks, staring, unable to believe their eyes. Here, in
+the flesh, by thousands upon thousands, was the answer to their prayers.
+Perhaps it was not too late, after all. Here was new strength, new
+courage.
+
+Old men danced with joy, embracing their wives and children, embracing
+one another, and tears of joy coursed down their wan, lined faces.
+
+"_Les Americains!_" they shouted. "_Vive l' Amerique! Nous
+sauveurs sont arrivee!_" (The Americans! Long live America! Our
+saviors have arrived.)
+
+The cry spread; it ran up and down the roads and bypaths; it became a
+magic sentence restoring courage throughout all France.
+
+As for the resolute Americans, they merely plodded on, questioning one
+another as to what all the shouting was about. Oh, so that was it? Sure
+they were here, but why get excited about it? ... The Boche is breaking
+through, eh? As you were, Papa, and keep your shirt on! And as for that
+old lady over there by that cart, crying so softly--say! somebody who
+can parley this language go over there and tell that old lady not to cry
+any more. Tell her we'll fix it up, toot sweet. O-o-o! La, la! Pipe the
+pretty mademoiselle over there driving that dogcart. Ain't she the
+pippin though! Say--
+
+"Fall in! Fall in!... Com-pan-ee, At-ten-shun! Forward, March!"
+
+    "Mademoiselle from Armentieres,
+        _Parlez vous_.
+    Mademoiselle from Armentieres..."
+
+A new giant was going in, a giant that did not yet know its own
+strength, a somewhat clownish giant, singing as it came.
+
+
+3
+
+Those three days of the Crown Prince's drive on the Marne were dark days
+for France. The French people listened eagerly for word from the
+front--and prayed as they had never prayed before, while every American
+unit, wherever billeted in France, waited impatiently for orders that
+would send them in for their first baptism of fire.
+
+McGee and Larkin, though supposed to be instructors and therefore
+unmoved by the battle lust that had laid heavy hands on every pilot in
+France, found themselves itching for action. They could smell battle
+afar off; they knew the need of air supremacy at such a time. On the
+flying field, and at squadron headquarters, they tried to cheer up the
+depressed and sullen pilots who were chafing under the restraint of
+inaction. But alone, in the home of Madame Beauchamp, they freely
+expressed their feelings.
+
+"I can't see why this squadron is not ordered up," McGee said to Larkin
+one night as they sat alone in their room. "They are better trained than
+we were when we hopped across the channel. Remember that day, Buzz?"
+
+"Yes indeed! That was our big day; it's exactly the same big day these
+chaps are waiting for. There must be a great need of planes. I
+understand the German Army has crashed through to the Marne. If they
+pass there--" he shrugged his shoulders expressively.
+
+They sat for a moment in silence, thinking the same gloomy thoughts that
+were so staggering to all the people of the allied nations.
+
+"What if the squadron should be sent up?" Larkin asked at last. "Just
+where would we get off?"
+
+McGee shook his head. "Don't know, I'm sure. It's strange how we've
+received no word on our applications for repatriation. I guess we are
+stuck for the rest of the war. Instructors! Bah! I'm developing an itch
+for action."
+
+"So am I," Larkin agreed. "When we were first sent back from the front,
+I'll admit I was glad enough to come. I was fed up. But I'm fed up here
+now. And what can _we_ do about it?"
+
+"Well, for one thing I can go to bed," McGee replied yawning. "To-morrow
+is another day." He began unwinding one of his wrapped puttees. "Ever
+notice how much longer these blasted things are when you are sleepy?" he
+asked.
+
+Just as he had finished with one, and had rolled it into a neat ball, a
+motor cycle came popping into the yard. Buzz looked at Red inquiringly.
+
+"Wonder what that is?" he asked.
+
+The downstairs front door opened; heavy hobnail shoes sounded on the
+stairs.
+
+"Dunno," McGee answered, looking at the puttee roll in his hand. "But
+I'll wager it's something that will force me to put this thing on again.
+I never got an order from headquarters in my life when I hadn't just
+finished taking off my putts."
+
+A heavy knock on the door.
+
+"Come in."
+
+An orderly entered, saluted smartly, and handed McGee a folded paper. "A
+note from Major Cowan, sir. He said there would be no answer."
+
+"Very well. Thank you, Rawlins. For a moment I thought it might be
+orders for the front."
+
+"No chance, sir. We're the goats of the air service. The war will be
+over before we get a chance. I say they'd as well kept us at home where
+we could get real food and sleep in real beds instead of these blasted
+hay mows us enlisted men sleep in."
+
+"Right you are, Rawlins. I'll speak to the Commanding General about it
+to-morrow. In the meantime, carry on, Rawlins."
+
+"Yes, sir." A smart salute, a stiff about face, and he was gone. They
+could hear him grumbling as he went down the stairs.
+
+McGee looked at the folded paper. On it, in Cowan's hand, was written;
+To Lieutenants McGee and Larkin.
+
+"What is it?" Larkin asked, impatiently.
+
+McGee unfolded the sheet. Scrawled across it were these electrifying
+words:
+
+"Just finished talking over the phone to Wing. They inform me that
+orders have been received approving your application for repatriation.
+The order will come down in the morning. Congratulations. Cowan."
+
+Red slapped Larkin on the back with sufficient force to start him
+coughing and then began tousling his hair.
+
+"There, you old killjoy!" he was shouting. "Now stop your worrying. What
+do you think of that?"
+
+Larkin began a clownish Highland fling that eloquently spoke his
+thoughts. At last he came to rest, snapped his heels together, saluted
+smartly and said:
+
+"Lieutenant Red McGee, U.S.A., I believe. How do you like that--you
+little shrimp?"
+
+"Maybe we'll be buck privates, for all you know."
+
+"No, same rank," Larkin answered. "But believe me, I'm free to confess
+now that I'd rather be a buck in Uncle Sam's little old army than a
+brass hat in any other. Boy, shake!"
+
+
+4
+
+Sometime after midnight, at least an hour after sleep had at last
+overcome McGee's and Larkin's joyous excitement, a sleep-shattering
+motor cycle again came pop-popping to their door. The dispatch bearer
+hammered lustily on the barred front door until admitted by the
+sleepy-eyed, white robed, grumbling Madame Beauchamp, and then clattered
+up the stairs, two steps at a time. He pounded heavily on the door of
+the sleeping pilots.
+
+McGee fumbled around on the table at the side of the bed, found the
+candle stub, and as the flaring match dispelled the shadows, called,
+"Come in! Don't beat the door down!"
+
+Rawlins fairly burst into the room. "Major Cowan's compliments, sir, and
+he directs you to report to the squadron at once."
+
+"Good heavens! At this hour? What's up, Rawlins?"
+
+Rawlins smiled expansively. "Orders for the front, sir. They're taking
+down the hangar tents now, and trucks will be here in the next hour for
+baggage and equipment. All the ships are to be on the line, checked and
+inspected an hour before dawn. The C.O. said to make it snappy. He said
+a truck would come after your luggage. It's a madhouse over at
+headquarters, sir."
+
+Both pilots sprang from the bed.
+
+"Do you know where my orderly sleeps, Rawlins?" McGee asked.
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"Go bounce him out and send him up here, _tout suite_! Tell Major
+Cowan we'll be over on the double quick. By the way, Rawlins, do you
+know where we're going?"
+
+"No, sir. Secret orders, I understand. But I don't care a whoop just so
+long as it's to the front."
+
+"Right you are. Toddle along, Rawlins. Buzz, light that other candle
+over there. I can't even find my shoe by this light."
+
+An hour later, with all personal equipment packed and ready for the
+baggage truck, McGee and Larkin reported to Cowan, who was standing
+outside headquarters, issuing orders with the rapidity of a machine gun.
+
+"All set, sir," McGee said, "and thanks for the note of congratulations.
+In the nick of time, wasn't it? Otherwise we would have been left
+behind."
+
+"I suppose so," the Major replied. "Fact is, I don't know your status
+now, and I don't know how to dispose of your case. I called Wing and was
+told that your assignment hadn't come down. The personnel of this
+squadron is complete. Here's a pretty pickle! Guess I'd better pass the
+buck and send you back to Wing."
+
+McGee's face fell. For once words failed him. He turned his eyes on
+Larkin, appealingly.
+
+Larkin entered the breach manfully. "Major Cowan," he began, "when we
+made application to get back under our own flag, we did it hoping we'd
+go to the front--not to the rear. This sudden order comes because pilots
+are needed. The better trained they are, the better our chances for
+victory. I'm not boasting, sir, but McGee and I have been in action. We
+can be a help."
+
+"Yes, yes. Of course. I'd like to have you in my squadron, well enough,
+but what about the red tape?"
+
+"Wait until it catches up with us. Don't go looking for red tape to
+fetter us," Larkin replied.
+
+"Hum-m!" Cowan mused. He knew, none better, that here before him stood
+two excellent pilots with a wealth of combat experience. If he sent them
+back, doubtless some other squadron would draw them, and that squadron
+commander would be the gainer, he the loser. Still, he had no authority
+for taking them along. An assignment order would doubtless reach them
+within twenty-four or forty-eight hours. Still and all, he considered,
+much can happen in that time--especially to an untried squadron going
+into action. Such pilots as these were scarce, and many were the
+commanders who would seek them. "Well," he said at last, "just what
+would you do in my place?"
+
+It was a fair question, and one seldom heard from the lips of a
+commanding officer. Coming from Cowan, it was doubly surprising, and
+effectively blocked all pleas founded on sentiment and sympathy.
+
+Now Larkin was stumped, but McGee was ready to take up the gage.
+
+"Major Cowan, I have been in the service long enough to know that the
+wise army man always gets out from under. Pass the buck. It's the grand
+old game. But I see a way out. If I were in your position I would direct
+the issue of an order sending us back. But," he added as Cowan evidenced
+surprise, "I'd manage to have that order mislaid in the excitement."
+
+Cowan nervously paced back and forth. Suddenly he wheeled in decision.
+"No," he said, "I won't pass the buck; I won't shift the responsibility.
+Passing the buck in training may be all very well, but a commander who
+does so in action is not fitted for command. We are on the eve of
+action. Report to Lieutenant Mullins, gentlemen, and tell him I said you
+were to go along. See that your ships are ready at four a.m." He turned
+and walked rapidly toward a group of ground men who were loading a
+truck.
+
+Larkin's eyes became wide with astonishment. "Well what do you know
+about that! Say, that bird is going to make a real C.O."
+
+"I think he is one now," McGee answered. "Action does that to
+men--sometimes."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+The Squadron Takes Wing
+
+
+1
+
+Only a war pilot can visualize the confusion and excitement incident to
+moving a squadron base up to the front. There is work enough for all
+even when such a move is foreseen and planned for days in advance, but
+when a moving order comes down in the dead of night--as is so frequently
+the case--then rank is forgotten. Pilots, Commanders, Supply and
+Operations officers, air mechanics, flight leaders, in fact everyone,
+from the C.O. down to the lowliest greaseball, pitches in with a gusto
+sufficient to produce a miracle. For it is little short of the
+miraculous to carry out an order, received at midnight, calling for a
+movement at dawn. In fact, one inexperienced in army ways would declare
+that it couldn't be done. But Great Headquarters considers only what
+must be done, issues orders accordingly, and such is the magic of
+discipline and proper spirit that lo! the thing _is_ done. The
+impossible becomes possible--and the ordinary!
+
+And so it was with Major Cowan's squadron. The hour they had so long
+awaited had come at last. So great was their zeal that with the first
+hint of dawn in the east the planes were all on the field, properly
+outfitted, finally checked, and ready to go. Even the planes seemed to
+be huddled together, poised like vibrant butterflies, eager to take
+wing.
+
+McGee and Larkin well knew, from experience, the varied, conflicting
+emotions felt by the members of the squadron. Standing near the barren
+spot where the large hangar tent had been, they watched the various
+members making their last minute preparations. Occasionally they
+gathered in groups, all talking at once, and in hurriedly passing one
+another they would slap each other on the back with a force greater than
+needed in friendly greeting. It was the fevered reaction of nerves! They
+had waited for this hour, yes, and at last they were going up to the
+front; but every man of them knew that some of them would never come
+back. There was a grim gateman up there where the guns roared, waiting
+to take his toll.
+
+"They think they are going right in," Larkin said to Red, as he watched
+a pilot by the name of Carpenter make the last of at least a dozen
+inspections of his two machine guns. "We haven't the foggiest notion
+where we are going, but I'll wager we won't see action for several
+days."
+
+"I think you are wrong there," McGee replied. "There's a tremendous push
+up on the Marne. My guess would be that we will go somewhere in the
+neighborhood of Epernay--probably to take over a sector patrolled by a
+French squadron so that they can be used on the more active front around
+Chateau-Thierry or up around Rheims. Hullo! There goes the siren and
+here comes the Major. We will know soon enough now."
+
+"I'll wager you a dinner it's another soft spot--no action," Larkin
+said.
+
+"Done! You are through with soft spots now."
+
+Major Cowan's quick walk spoke volumes. The pilots shouted derisively at
+the sound of the siren, a distressingly noisy contrivance designed to
+arouse sleepy pilots and turn them out for dawn patrol.
+
+"Fall in! Fall in!" Mullins began shouting. "You act like a bunch of
+sheep! Line up there!"
+
+"Call the roll of officers," Cowan ordered.
+
+A staff sergeant, who had kept his wits sufficiently to rescue the roll
+from another headquarters non-com who was packing everything in one of
+the trucks, came hurrying forward with the roll. The names were droned
+off. The "Here!" that responded to each name was a full commentary on
+the mental attitude of the respondent. Yancey, for instance, fairly
+shouted his, while Rodd hesitated, seeming to search for an even smaller
+word. Carpenter's "here," was little more than a whisper, as might come
+from one who was making an admission which he wished circumstances had
+ordered otherwise. And the rotund little McWilliams answered in a manner
+that convinced McGee that Mac was really wishing he were not here.
+
+McGee and Larkin, not yet carried on the roll, stood to one side,
+conscious of the fact that they were still wearing uniforms of the Royal
+Flying Corps. They felt like two lost sheep.
+
+"Look at their faces," Red whispered to Larkin. "Faces tell a lot.
+They're keen to go, all right, but take Carpenter and McWilliams, for
+instance. Scared stiff. They're expecting to meet an entire Hun Circus
+between here and--and wherever we are going."
+
+The roll call ended.
+
+"Gentlemen," Major Cowan began, his voice crisp and business-like, "we
+have been ordered up to La Ferte sous Jouarre, due southwest of the
+Chateau-Thierry salient."
+
+The exclamation of surprise forced him to pause. McGee gave Larkin a dig
+in the ribs. "I win," he said. "That's no soft spot."
+
+"But," Major Cowan continued, "for some reason Brigade has seen fit to
+divide the journey into two parts. Possibly to permit our trucks to
+reach there ahead of us, but more probably because it lacks faith in our
+ability to make the change without scattering our ships all along the
+line of flight. For my part, I have no such fear. I think I know the
+ability of this pursuit group." He hesitated, to let this sink in. And
+it was well that he did. Yancey gasped, and began coughing to cover it
+up. Hank Porter stepped on Hampden's boot with great force. Hampden in
+turn nudged Siddons, who alone of all the group displayed no emotion.
+Never before had these men heard Cowan indulge in compliment. Something
+had come over him. His moustache actually looked a little more like a
+_man's_ moustache. In fact, Yancey thought, the blasted thing was
+almost military.
+
+"However," Cowan continued, "we will fly to a field just south of
+Epernay to-day. To-morrow morning we will take off and continue a
+course, almost parallel with the present lines, to La Ferte sous
+Jouarre. Our destination has been kept confidential until this moment.
+From necessity, of course, I have gone over the maps and our course with
+the flight leaders. They know the way. In case one of them should be
+forced down, that flight will double up with one of the others. You have
+little to worry about. Keep your head and remember where you are going.
+If forced down, proceed to La Ferte sous Jouarre, on the Paris-Metz
+road, at the earliest moment. But," he added, slowly, "as I said before,
+I expect to see us arrive there together, and in order. That is all,
+gentlemen. Yonder comes the sun. To your ships now, and look sharp as
+you take off. Remember, this is no joy-ride. Hold your positions."
+
+The pilots broke into a run for their ships, slapping one another on the
+shoulder as they ran.
+
+"Luck, old war horse."
+
+"Same to you, big feller."
+
+"Hey, Yancey! If you're leading B Flight, give her the gun and high-tail
+it. The war's waiting!"
+
+"S'long, Hank. Luck, feller."
+
+"Get a waddle on, Mac. The war's lookin' up, eh?"
+
+"I hope to spit in your mess kit."
+
+Laughing, bantering, shouting, they climbed into their planes. The
+helpers stood at the wings, ready to take out the chocks when the motors
+had warmed; the mechanics took their places at the props. How envious
+they were! The little wasps that they had so carefully groomed were
+going forward to the battle zone, and every mechanic offered up prayer
+that his ship would function perfectly and make good the hope which
+Cowan had expressed.
+
+A prop went over, _whish_! The first motor caught and roared.
+Another ... another ... bedlam now. No longer any shouting, only a
+waving of hands, a few last minute adjustments as the motors warmed and
+sent a mighty dust cloud whirling back to obliterate the spot where the
+hangar had stood.
+
+Straight ahead, a fiery red ball rose over a slate-colored hedge. A long
+flight of ravens crossed directly before the rising sun. Huh! Clumsy
+fellows. And slow. Better come over and take some lessons from some real
+birds.
+
+Cowan's plane moved forward slowly, roared into life and fairly sprang
+into the fiery eye of the sun. Numbers two and three followed, skimming
+the dew drenched grass like swallows over a lake. Then four and five. By
+George, this was something like! This was worth waiting for!
+
+The falconer of war had unhooded his new brood of hawks and they mounted
+up, free of bells and jesses.
+
+
+2
+
+The flight to the airdrome some six kilometers south of Epernay was made
+without incident. That is, it was thought to be without incident until
+Yancey, leading B Flight, reported to Cowan that Siddons had been forced
+down by some trouble over Vitry. Cowan was evidently displeased. He had
+hoped for a perfect score.
+
+"What was the matter?" he demanded, the ends of his moustache twitching
+nervously.
+
+"Don't know, sir. He kept droppin' back. I swung alongside but I
+couldn't savvy his signals. He kept pointin' back at his tail. I
+couldn't see anything wrong, but there's a big 'drome at Vitry and he
+signaled me that he was goin' down. I hung around to watch his landin'
+and then hustled back to my flight."
+
+"Fuel up, fly back there and see what's wrong," Cowan ordered. "I've a
+sneaky suspicion that he wasn't as bad off as he made out."
+
+As Yancey turned toward his ship, McGee came up, smiling with pleasure
+over the success of the flight.
+
+"Just a minute, Yancey!" Cowan called. "I've changed my mind. You
+needn't go back."
+
+He drew McGee to one side. "Do you remember passing over the French
+'drome outside of Vitry?" he asked.
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"Your plane is in good order?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"Good. Yancey tells me that Siddons was forced down there. I want you to
+refuel, go back there and see what the trouble was. I have my own
+ideas."
+
+"Yes?" McGee queried.
+
+"That fellow hates formation flying like the devil hates holy water,"
+Cowan answered. "He's a joy-rider. He knows how anxious I am to effect
+this move without a hitch, and he also knows there'll be no passes into
+Epernay to-night. I've a hunch Vitry looked good to him. I want you to
+find out."
+
+"Very well, sir."
+
+"I'm sending you," Cowan explained, smiling faintly, "because it doesn't
+make so much difference if you get lost, since you are merely 'also
+along', and also because I don't expect you to get lost. Report to me
+upon your return."
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+
+3
+
+The mission was not particularly pleasing to McGee. Chasing around after
+Siddons was not his idea of a riotous time.
+
+It was some fifty-five kilometers back to Vitry, but with a good tail
+wind he made it in quick time. The French major in command of the
+squadron stationed there was exceedingly gracious. Yes, the American had
+landed, he told McGee, but he had taken off again within the hour. The
+trouble? Well, he complained that his rudder was jamming, but the
+mechanics could not find anything wrong. He had said, also, that his
+motor was running too hot. Perhaps, the major suggested, with an
+understanding smile, this one had rather fly alone, _hein_? So many
+of them would--and especially by way of Paris, or other good towns. Yes,
+he had given his destination--La Ferte sous Jouarre, but is not that on
+a direct line for Paris, Monsieur? These youthful ones, would they never
+learn that this was a serious business? But no, Monsieur, they are
+young, and how can you make one fear discipline who daily faces death?
+Poof! It was the grave problem.
+
+McGee left Vitry with his own conclusions. So Siddons had pulled a
+forced landing in order to go for a joy-ride. Now he was off having a
+fine time and would claim that his delay at Vitry was so long that he
+thought it best to head for La Ferte. Well, they would have him there.
+He had not reckoned that Cowan would send someone back.
+
+
+4
+
+Upon McGee's return to the squadron, Cowan was too busy to see him, nor
+did he send for him until after mess that night. When McGee arrived at
+the Major's temporary quarters he found him in company with Mullins, the
+Operations officer, and both were bending over a large map spread out on
+the table.
+
+Cowan looked up with the quick, exasperated nervousness which he always
+displayed when interrupted.
+
+"Well!" he barked, crisply.
+
+"You sent for me, sir?"
+
+"Yes, yes. I had forgotten. What about Siddons?"
+
+McGee had decided to shield Siddons to the extent of not reporting the
+fact that the mechanics at Vitry had found nothing wrong with the plane.
+A squealer gains no friends in the Army.
+
+"I don't know where he is, Major. He landed at Vitry, complaining of a
+jamming rudder and heating engine. He took off again in an hour. He
+hasn't showed up yet. Perhaps he thought it best to go on to La Ferte."
+
+"Humph!" Cowan retorted, the pointed ends of his moustache twitching.
+"Maybe he did! He needs grounding. I'd send him to Observation if the
+Chief of Air hadn't ordered us to quit using observation work for
+punishment. They crack up those crates too fast. And Siddons is just the
+kind to do that sort of trick. He's a good flyer, certainly, but--what
+would you do with him, McGee?"
+
+"Oh, I say now--"
+
+"Rats! Mullins, how would you handle him? He's a cold fish, you know."
+
+Mullins gulped. He was not accustomed to having Cowan ask his opinion
+about anything. However, here was a golden opportunity.
+
+"Cold or hot, I'd let that bird cool off a little more on the ground.
+He's been joy-riding ever since we drew ships. We'll go into action
+soon, don't you think?"
+
+"Doubtless."
+
+"Keep him out of the first patrol. He'll come whining to you and he'll
+sit up and be nice from then on."
+
+"Hum-m!" Cowan again bent over the maps.
+
+"Anything else, Major?" McGee asked.
+
+"No ... Yes, wait!" he called as McGee reached the door. "You have had a
+lot of combat experience, Lieutenant. I don't mind telling you that the
+load of responsibility gets heavier as we approach action." He turned
+away from the table, walked to the window, and stood gazing out into the
+utter blackness of the night. "I wonder," he mused, his voice subdued,
+"if any of you truly appreciate the weight of the responsibility."
+
+Mullins glanced at McGee, wonderingly. Both were thinking the same
+thoughts. Here was a man, who, until the last forty-eight hours, had
+always been quite sufficient unto himself. Now a sudden change had come
+over him. One of two things was certain: either he was breaking, and
+would soon be taken from command for inefficiency; or he was a strong
+man indeed, strong enough to admit weaknesses, unblushingly seek aid,
+and make use of all available knowledge.
+
+Mullins, in his own mind, decided it was the former; McGee, in his mind,
+was confident that it was the latter, and he warmed to him.
+
+"No matter," Cowan himself made reply to his unanswered question as he
+turned from the window with much of his old self-confidence.
+"Responsibility is a thing which command imposes--and which I accept.
+However, that does not prevent me from profiting by the experience of
+others, as I expect to do in your case, McGee."
+
+"If I can help--"
+
+"You can. A recent report from General Mitchell declares that casualties
+from all causes have been as high as eighty per cent per month in
+squadrons at the front. That's pretty stiff! Fortunately, the General
+points out, the enemy losses have been as great, or even greater. I
+don't want to leave a stone unturned that may help us to decrease that
+percentage in this pursuit group--and _increase_ it among the
+enemy! Here, take a look at this map, McGee."
+
+He stepped to the table and with a pencil drew a circle around a spot
+south of Epernay. "We are here," he said. "The lines are here." He moved
+the pencil to the northwest of Epernay, where the heavy black lines
+indicating the front crossed the Marne. "Notice that the lines swing
+southwest through Comblizy and la Chapelle, then northwest again, back
+to the Marne, and on to Chateau-Thierry. To-morrow we are to go here."
+He circled a spot just south of La Ferte sous Jouarre. "See anything
+peculiar in this situation?" He studied closely the faces of the two
+junior officers. Mullins offered no reply.
+
+"I think it peculiar that we have come up here, miles out of our way to
+the north, when our destination is considerably southwest of us," McGee
+offered.
+
+"Exactly!" Cowan replied, approvingly. "But there is a reason for it--to
+mislead the enemy. Their Intelligence Department seems to learn of every
+move we make, and sometimes learns of it in _advance_ of that move.
+That's the real reason we are here."
+
+"I don't get it," Mullins said, shaking his head.
+
+"The order sending us here came down in the regular way," Cowan
+explained, "but the order that takes us to La Ferte, to-morrow morning,
+was highly confidential. I did not disclose it until the moment of our
+departure, and only then so that anyone forced down would know our
+destination. There is to be a considerable concentration of air forces
+on the apex of the salient between la Chapelle, this side of
+Chateau-Thierry, and Villers-Cotterets, on the other side. It is the
+beginning of a movement of concentration to drive the enemy back beyond
+the Vesle. Hence the secrecy, and the effort to mislead the enemy as to
+our movements."
+
+McGee smiled, somewhat skeptically.
+
+"What's wrong with that?" Cowan challenged.
+
+"The enemy isn't so easily misled, Major," McGee answered. "We learned
+that lesson on the English front, and learned it through bitter
+experience. If the Hun doesn't know right now where we are going, he
+will know of our arrival twenty-four hours after we get there. If he
+fails to foresee our concentration at this point, he is thick-headed and
+slow-witted indeed. I, for one, do not consider him slow-witted. About
+the only secret we keep from him is the order that is never issued."
+
+Cowan frowned. "I suppose you are right. But how does all this
+information leak through?"
+
+"If I knew that, Major, I'd be too valuable to be a pursuit pilot. If we
+knew where the leaks were we could plug them by making use of several
+good firing squads."
+
+"You are right," Cowan agreed, and again bent over the map, studying it
+with minutest care. "See here," he said at last. "If we flew a true
+course from here to La Ferte we would parallel the front for several
+miles. Here, just south of la Chapelle, we'd be within three miles of
+the line. That's pretty close for a green squadron, don't you think?"
+
+"We'll be closer than that in the next few days--by exactly three
+miles!" Mullins answered. "Personally, I'd like to have a look-see at
+the jolly old Hun."
+
+"I don't think you need worry, Major," McGee offered. "It isn't likely
+that we will run into any of them, and if we should we would so
+outnumber them that they would establish some new records in
+high-tailing it home."
+
+"You think so?" Cowan seemed so unduly disturbed over so remote a
+prospect that McGee found himself again doubting the Major's courage.
+
+"I do. Why, look at our strength! The Boche prefers to have the
+numerical superiority on his side."
+
+"But you'd take up combat formation, of course?"
+
+"Yes, and in echelon, one flight above another by a margin of three
+thousand feet. Then, if the beggar wants to jump on that sort of buzz
+saw, let him come--and welcome."
+
+"There will be time enough to welcome him when we reach our new
+base--all present or accounted for," Cowan replied. "You have no
+objection to flying in the top flight with me to-morrow?"
+
+"Why, no sir. Of course not. I'll be honored."
+
+"Bosh! No flattery, Lieutenant. I don't expect it--especially from you."
+
+Seemingly quite exasperated, Cowan turned away, walked quickly to the
+window and again stood looking out into the night. Mullins winked at
+McGee and made a quivering motion with his hand, indicating that he
+thought Cowan was suffering from a case of nerves.
+
+The Major turned from the window and stared at Mullins with a cold, but
+studious eye. It made the Operations officer exceedingly uncomfortable.
+
+"You forget, Lieutenant Mullins, that a window facing a dark courtyard
+provides a most excellent mirror. Nerves, eh? Well, we shall see. If a
+commander seeks counsel, some are likely to think him a fool. If he does
+not, he _is_ a fool. When I said to McGee, 'no flattery' I meant
+just that. Furthermore, I don't mind telling both of you that I know the
+regard in which I am held by some--perhaps all--of the members of this
+squadron. I even know my nickname, 'Old Fuss-Budget'. Humph! A hard
+master always wins the name of 'old' something or other. I don't care a
+hoot about that. I don't care a hoot about the opinions of any man in
+this group if only the result of their training shows a balance in favor
+of our country. Am I right or wrong?"
+
+McGee and Mullins were too surprised to offer reply. This was quite the
+longest speech Cowan had ever made in their presence; certainly it was
+the most frank.
+
+"Well," Cowan continued, "I have applied the goad whenever and wherever
+I thought it needed. I have been goaded in turn, and took it without
+whimpering. I wonder, Lieutenant," he turned to McGee, "if you remember
+the report you made on that Hun you shot down over our 'drome?"
+
+"Why--yes, sir, I do."
+
+"And the recommendation you tacked on to it?"
+
+"Yes, sir." Pretty warm, this, McGee thought.
+
+"Then you will recall that it did not reflect any too much credit on me,
+as the man responsible for any failure on the part of any member of this
+command. But I did not ask you to change the dotting of an I or the
+crossing of a T. Nor did you hear a word out of me when I received my
+bawling out. The army is like that. From enlisted man to Commanding
+General, every fellow thinks he is the only one with a prod in his side.
+The truth is, the greater the rank, the higher the responsibility, and
+the sharper the gaff. I often wish for the quiet, untroubled mind of a
+buck private--and I thank Heaven that I am only a Major. Which reminds
+me that I am one, and had better cut out conversation and fall to work."
+
+His expression changed instantly; he became again the nervous,
+irascible, driving commander.
+
+"As for wanting you in the top flight," he plunged into his quick manner
+of speaking, "it is because I want someone there whose eyes are trained
+at picking up enemy planes. Doubtless I will get severely reprimanded
+for bringing you along, so I had as well get the greatest possible good
+out of your experience. You will inform Lieutenant Larkin that he is to
+go in B Flight, with Yancey."
+
+"Very well, sir. But if you really fear any trouble, Larkin will be more
+effective in the top flight. Altitude means a lot--and I always feel
+safer when he is sticking around close to me."
+
+"No, I want him with Yancey. We might get separated, and if I draw an
+ace for myself, I should give Yancey as good a card."
+
+McGee smiled at the pun. "Very well, sir, but while speaking of aces,
+it's always best to have 'em up. And the higher up the better. Larkin is
+a great pilot when he has plenty of altitude--right where a lot of the
+others fall down. Take him with you and let me go with Yancey."
+
+"Oh, very well. I started in to ask for advice and I had as well take
+it. That will be all to-night, Lieutenant. No, wait! One other thing:
+Say nothing to anyone about Siddons going off joy-riding. Let them think
+he is still at Vitry. I want to handle him my own way, without stirring
+up any comment. If they find out he cut formation on a trumped up
+hokus-pokus, they would think I should ground him."
+
+Mullins' jaw dropped in surprise and astonishment. "Aren't you going to
+ground him?" he asked.
+
+"I am not! I'm going to see that he draws some hot stuff. I've a nice
+little mission all figured out for him."
+
+A glint in Cowan's eyes testified that he was again the self-sufficient
+commander, confident of his decisions and determined upon his course of
+action.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+Von Herzmann Strikes
+
+
+1
+
+At dawn the following morning, well behind the German lines in the
+vicinity of Roncheres, Count von Herzmann's famous Circus was making
+feverish haste to take the air. Von Herzmann himself was coolly
+instructing the pilots in the purposes of their coming expedition. His
+elation was great indeed, and his entire manner, as well as the pleased
+smile that played over his youthful, handsome face, indicated that he
+was confident of victory. Confidence, however, was no new trait in von
+Herzmann. He always possessed it, but it stopped just short of blind
+egotism. Perhaps therein could be found the reason for his fame and his
+success. He was no blundering, egobefuddled braggart riding for a fall;
+he was a splendid pilot, a careful tactician, fearless when fearlessness
+was needed and cautious when caution would bring greater reward than
+blind valor. In short, his fame rested securely upon ability. He was one
+of the idols of his countrymen, and he was a scourge both feared and
+respected by the allied air forces. The ships of his Circus were painted
+in whatever gaudy colors proved appealing to the pilots thereof, but the
+fuselage of each bore the famous insignia of the Circus--the defiant
+German eagle with its blood red feet and talons supported on a scroll
+bearing the legend, _Gott Mit Uns_. And indeed it did seem that
+this Circus was providentially watched over.
+
+For more than a year the watchword of the French and English had been,
+"Get von Herzmann." It was an easy phrase to coin, but extremely
+difficult to execute. Many a French and English pilot had gone gunning
+for him, but most of these were now in their graves. Those who escaped
+were a little less enthusiastic in their next search for this skilled
+airman who had run up a total of more than two score victories.
+
+Von Herzmann, in addition to being a skilled pilot, was as elusive as a
+ghost. He was here, there, everywhere. Wherever there was a heavy drive
+or a sturdy, sullen defensive, there could be found Count von Herzmann.
+The Allies, making use of this knowledge, had sent out many bombing
+expeditions to blast the nest of this troublesome Circus from the face
+of the earth, but their deadly bombs fell upon deserted, decoy hangars.
+
+As is always the case, those who exhibit a certain degree of excellence
+find ready help at the hand of admirers who wish them still further
+success and acclaim. It was so in von Herzmann's case. The German army
+could ill afford to lose one who was so brilliant in his operations and
+so firmly established as one of the popular national idols. The German
+Intelligence Department gave him all possible assistance, thereby not
+only saving his precious neck but furnishing still more glamorous
+stories for a populace that was daily becoming more disheartened and
+weary with war.
+
+On this morning at Roncheres, von Herzmann was again preparing to shake
+another plum into his lap. Military Intelligence had received word late
+the previous evening that an American Pursuit Squadron would on the
+following morning leave from a 'drome south of Epernay and proceed to a
+new base south of La Ferte sous Jouarre. Doubtless they would parallel
+the line south of la Chapelle. What could be simpler than to send forth
+von Herzmann with the full strength of his justly famous Circus to
+intercept these untried Americans? Here was a ripe plum indeed--to be
+had for the picking!
+
+Von Herzmann was particularly well pleased. He smiled as he climbed
+jauntily into his gaudy green and gold Fokker tri-plane. So the stupid
+Americans had thought to lead the German High Command astray by such a
+clumsy movement? Ha! They forgot that a good spy system is like wheels
+within wheels. But they would learn--in time.
+
+Smiling, he examined his twin Spandau machine guns. Then he glanced
+along the line of ships making up the first flight. Yes, they were
+ready, awaiting his signal, their idling motors purring like so many
+contented cats. The smiling, blond von Herzmann lifted his hand in
+signal. The purring sound changed to the deafening roar of a hundred
+infuriated jungle cats. The leading plane raced along the green field,
+and a moment later the first flight of von Herzmann's great Circus
+leaped into the air, climbed rapidly, and laid a course for a cloud bank
+hanging over the lines above Comblizy.
+
+How often the youthful, clever von Herzmann had made use of shielding
+cloud banks, or lacking clouds had placed himself above his adversary,
+squarely in the blinding sun. One of the two, or both perhaps, would
+serve him again this morning.
+
+His smile grew broader as he neared the front. It was thrilling, this
+hunting business, and it was made decidedly easier when Intelligence
+cooperated fully, as they had done in this instance. He knew the
+strength of his quarry, their lack of experience, and the report had
+included the statement that two of the planes were piloted by
+instructors fresh from the English front, flying English Camels. Two
+hated Englanders, eh? _Gott strafe_ England! He would single them
+out and take care of them, one at a time. The rest of his command would
+scatter the others like quails, and the survivors, not well acquainted
+with the terrain, would have a nice problem in finding their way to La
+Ferte. _Himmel!_ but it was a pleasing prospect.
+
+
+2
+
+Major Cowan's squadron had been slightly delayed in starting by two
+malfunctioning Nieuports. A precious half hour was spent in correcting
+the difficulty and the sun had changed from a dull red ball to a
+blinding white disk racing up the eastern sky wall by the time the
+flights had gained proper altitude and laid a true course for La Ferte
+sous Jouarre.
+
+The top flight, with Cowan leading, had climbed to twelve thousand feet.
+B Flight, under Yancey, was some three thousand feet under him and
+somewhat in advance. This gave the top flight a greater protective power
+and insured the bottom flight against any surprise attack. Not only were
+the flights in echelon, but the planes of each unit were also echeloned,
+each plane being slightly above the one directly ahead. It was a
+formidable formation, capable of being readily manoeuvered and with each
+pilot insured the best possible vision.
+
+A few white, vapory clouds hung high over the trenches toward Comblizy,
+and still heavier banks were to be seen to the south of la Chapelle,
+hanging over the Surmelin Valley. In all other directions the sky
+presented that fathomless blue so well known to all pilots who ascend
+above ten thousand feet. The open space between these apparently
+unmoving cloud banks was some three or four miles in width.
+
+Larkin, in the top flight with Major Cowan, had taken up position as the
+hindermost plane in the group and had, therefore, the greatest altitude.
+As a rule, he never was satisfied with his altitude until he had pushed
+his plane somewhere near the limit of its climbing ability. He was a
+splendid pilot at great altitude, and he had learned from experience
+that many pilots capable of doing good work at the lower levels flounder
+around like fish out of water when above twelve thousand feet. This
+being equally true of friend and foe, Larkin always felt better when he
+was high enough not to have any worry about someone coming down on him.
+He preferred having his enemies below rather than above.
+
+This morning, however, he took no thought of the matter. Before taking
+off Major Cowan had said no more than, "Look sharp when we get south of
+la Chapelle; head on a pivot, you know." Shucks! Slim chance for any
+excitement with a group like this. Even if they sighted a small enemy
+patrol they would have to go merrily on their way and leave the game to
+someone else. However, a war pilot with skill enough to become such an
+ace as Larkin needs little caution about "looking sharp." It is habit
+with him, and those who fail to develop the habit are only a few hours
+or days removed from sudden disaster.
+
+There was little enough to see. They were flying westward. Again and
+again Larkin turned his head around, closed one eye and placing a thumb
+close to his open eye squinted into the blinding sun. Many times, by the
+employment of that little trick, he had been able to momentarily diffuse
+the sun's rays sufficiently to catch the faintest blurred outline of
+enemy planes sitting in the sun and waiting for the proper moment to
+dive.
+
+This morning the sun seemed unusually bright and blinding. Somewhat
+ahead, and to the south, three large French observation planes were
+coming up toward the lines at la Chapelle. They were just about even,
+vertically, with the cloud bank over the Surmelin Valley. They would
+pass almost directly under the bottom flight, led by Yancey.
+
+Larkin watched them, somewhat idly. Photographic mission, probably.
+Then, with little or no interest in them, his eye ran along the two
+converging lines of planes that made up Yancey's flight. That moment he
+noticed McGee's plane cut out of position and zoom up at an angle too
+steep to be maintained. Then McGee's plane levelled off and was hurled
+through a series of quick acrobatics. It meant but one thing--manoeuver!
+
+Larkin jerked his head around and squinted into the sun. Not a thing
+there--at least nothing he could see--and as soon as the stabbing
+streaks of light left his eyes he glanced toward the cloud bank over the
+Marne. Nothing there. The three French observation busses, far below,
+were going gaily on their way. But McGee was still climbing and
+stunting. Larkin knew that this was no idle exhibition. McGee didn't fly
+that way. He was trying to draw their attention to something.
+
+Larkin looked ahead at Cowan's plane. That moment the Major dipped his
+plane twice. Now what in the world did he mean by that? Larkin wondered.
+Merely that he had noticed McGee and was on the alert? Or did he mean
+that he too had seen the enemy? Enemy! Where was the enemy?
+
+Again Larkin turned his head to try the sun. Nothing there ... yes, by
+George! there was a blur of black spots. But it was such a fleeting view
+that he could not be sure, and tried again. Blast the sun! It made him
+blind as a bat!
+
+He closed his eyes to cut out the dancing sparks and pin wheels. He
+opened them again, and on turning for one more trial at the sun his eye
+fell upon the cloud bank to the north. Talk about being blind! Blind as
+a bat was right!
+
+There, dark, dim and shadowy against the cloud were more German planes
+than he had ever before seen in one group, and their angle of direction
+left no question as to their purpose.
+
+Again he tried the sun. Yes, there they were! No question about it now.
+They were coming down, and in so doing were no longer completely within
+the eye of the sun. Pretty slick! A group behind to cut off retreat and
+another group coming out of the clouds at an angle that would intercept
+the line of flight. And that cloud was fairly raining German planes!
+
+"Well!" Larkin exclaimed aloud. "Here's a howdy-do!"
+
+The planes to the eastward were looming up with surprising speed, and no
+one could say when the ones behind and above would open up their
+murderous guns. What would Cowan do? What would any of these green
+pilots do in such a dog fight? Larkin looked down at McGee. He was still
+climbing for all he was worth. Cowan, if he saw anything, was too
+paralyzed for action. But perhaps he had not seen. Air eyes come through
+experience, Larkin knew, and something must be done right now.
+
+In the moment that he determined upon a course of action he saw another
+group of planes come streaming out of the cloud to the south. Curtains!
+The whole sky was full of planes. Then, as they swerved sharply, he saw
+the sunlight play on the allied cockade. And how they came! Spads,
+French Spads! Going up to the front, perhaps, as a covering flight for
+the observation crates far below. But now they were swinging into this
+grand and unexpected melee.
+
+Larkin grinned. "Here _is_ a howdy-do--sure 'nuff!" he repeated and
+went into a tight, climbing turn that brought him squarely around,
+facing the planes streaming down out of the sun. Taps for Mr. Larkin, he
+thought, but he would at least give them pause, and by so doing not only
+provide Cowan with a chance to wake up and manoeuver, but it would give
+the oncoming Spads the one thing they needed--time!
+
+The lightning-like movements and happenings of an aerial dog fight
+cannot be followed or seen by any one man. Fortunate indeed is that
+pilot who can keep track of what is going on around him. One moment he
+may have a single adversary; the next he is the target for two or more
+planes. If he shakes them off, or by marksmanship reduces the odds, he
+may check in for mess that evening; failing to do so, a squadron
+commander will that night requisition a new pilot.
+
+As Larkin came around on the quickly executed turn he was only faintly
+conscious of the fact that a considerable group of Fokker tri-planes
+were sweeping down on him. He gave no thought to the number. His eye was
+fixed upon a bright green and gold plane in the lead. As he pulled up
+the nose of his Camel and thumbed the trigger release for his first
+burst, he sensed the strange exultation that comes to that man who,
+facing death in a forlorn hope and knowing there is no escape, accepts
+all chances and sells his life as dearly as possible.
+
+The diving green and gold plane flashed across his ring sights as the
+Lewis gun poured forth its first burst. Square into the oncoming plane
+the tracers poured. Larkin, seeing that he was on, held his nose up
+until he knew he was about to stall.
+
+The green plane dipped, dived under him, and Larkin noticed another
+plane flash past him, bent on other game. Then splinters flew from one
+of his struts and a bullet smacked against the instrument board.
+
+He had lost flying speed on his zoom to get at the green plane. To
+regain speed, and give life to his laboring motor, he dived sharply.
+
+At the beginning of this dive a glance told him that the green plane had
+suffered an injury vital enough to cause it to lose all interest in any
+return to the attack.
+
+During the first flashing seconds of the attack Larkin's mind had been
+occupied only with the thought of hurling himself at the oncoming planes
+in the forlorn hope of diverting their course of action for a few brief
+but precious minutes. Suddenly, now, the fleeing green and gold plane
+awakened memory. Green and gold! Could that be the plane of the renowned
+von Herzmann, who from the beginning of his fame had advertised himself
+as the man who always flew a brightly painted green and gold plane?
+
+Another Fokker dived at Larkin, his Spandaus rattling. His aim was wild
+and he overshot Larkin's steep dive. But in that dive, which brought him
+all too close, Larkin caught sight of the insignia on the plane--a
+German eagle perched on a lettered scroll. It was von Herzmann's Circus!
+
+Larkin's heart leaped. He kicked his left rudder savagely and wheeled
+left, thundering after the green and gold plane that was streaking
+homeward. Get that plane, get that plane! ran through his mind. All else
+faded. The presence of other planes, and his original plan, all were
+lost sight of in the pulse-quickening realization that he had crippled
+the plane of the famous ace in that first burst. Now to get him and
+bring him down! Von Herzmann was not one to cut and run unless there was
+an urgent reason for it. He was trying to tool a crippled plane back
+across the lines. Larkin, determined to make the most of this golden
+opportunity, forthwith lost sight of all else.
+
+Ta-ka-ta-ka-ta-ka-ta-ka! Crash! Splinters flew from Larkin's cowling and
+two gashes suddenly appeared in the fabric of his left wing. So! The
+crippled eagle had loyal kingbirds for protectors, and they had plunged,
+pecking, at the Camel pursuing their leader.
+
+Larkin dived clear of the streaming bullets, zoomed upward into a half
+loop and rolled into position to fire at the leading attacker. The
+German was slow and Larkin poured a stream of lead into the cockpit. He
+saw the pilot stiffen, as one who has received a sudden shock or
+surprise, and then slump down. The plane thundered on for a moment, then
+nosed down, out of control.
+
+Ta-ka-ta-ka-ta-ka-ta-ka! Larkin saw tracers zipping past the nose of the
+plane. He side-slipped, out of the line of fire, and glanced back. Two
+more kingbirds coming to the relief of the fleeing eagle.
+
+Ta-ka-ta-ka--the Spandaus again began their monotonous, metallic
+stutter. Into the cockpit of Larkin's plane streamed a half dozen deadly
+pellets. Two of them pinged against the instrument board, another passed
+completely through the cockpit, just in front of his stomach. He felt
+suddenly cold at the nearness of death as he zoomed steeply into a
+quivering stall and slipped off into a spin.
+
+He was conscious of the fact that both the Fokkers were thundering after
+him. Then a Camel, with the speed of a thunderbolt, flashed across his
+line of vision. He could see the Lewis gun quivering with little excited
+jumps as it poured out lead. Good old McGee! He always turned up when
+needed most.
+
+Larkin neutralized the stick, then ruddered hard left against the spin,
+and thus stopped the tail spin. Then, gaining speed by a quick dive, he
+looped with a suddenness that brought the Camel squarely on the tail of
+the remaining pursuer who was diving steeply. Both guns began jumping
+with delight as Larkin thumbed the releases. What luck! Square in the
+ring sight! The telltale tracers poked their white fingers into the
+vitals of the Fokker tri-plane. A serpent-like tongue of red licked out,
+fluttering for a moment like a wind blown candle flame, and then leaped
+afresh in an enveloping burst of flame and smoke.
+
+Two!
+
+He glanced around. McGee was in a merry game with the other kingbird.
+Round and round they plunged in steep spirals, each trying to get a
+glimpse of the other across the sights. A tight, breath-taking game, but
+one which cannot last long. The circle becomes too small, the pace too
+swift. It was a game in which, Larkin knew, the tri-plane Fokker could
+excel the Camel, granting that the pilots were of equal skill.
+
+Larkin jockeyed for position, but in that moment when his eye was taken
+from the mad game of ring-around-the-rosy, McGee demonstrated that the
+skill was not equally placed. The Fokker was now spinning down,
+obviously out of control, and McGee was following, filling it with
+enough lead to sink it. It spun earthward, sickening in its erratic
+gyrations.
+
+McGee pulled up on his stick, banked sharply, bringing himself alongside
+Larkin. They waved to each other, exultantly. Larkin, who a few minutes
+ago had decided that his luck had played out its string, swallowed his
+heart, murmured "Whew!" and surveyed the field.
+
+The green and gold plane of von Herzmann was now a rapidly diminishing
+speck against the cloud bank toward la Chapelle, streaking for the
+Fatherland. The others, lacking a leader, and facing unequal chances
+with the timely and unexpected appearance of the French Spads, were
+withdrawing from the action with all the speed they could get out of
+their wonderful motors. And that was speed enough.
+
+The French Spads had come out of a cloud bank just in time to upset the
+well laid plans of the German ace, and that worthy, never expecting such
+a dare-devil, self-sacrificing move as made by Larkin, had for once been
+taken by surprise. He had been damaged enough to force immediate
+retirement. The celerity with which his group abandoned the project and
+followed in his wake gave glowing tribute to the true value and
+leadership of that youth who flew the green and gold plane. With him as
+leader, they would have taken a toll, despite the unexpected arrival of
+the Spads. But with von Herzmann, their idol and their pride, forced
+from the fight by a hated Englander flying a dinky little Camel--well,
+the Fatherland could be served some other day.
+
+But von Herzmann had been right in his boast that he would scatter the
+Americans like quails. As the French Spads pursued the fleeing Fokkers,
+which were numerically strong enough to make a too vigorous pursuit
+unwise and unhealthy, Major Cowan took up the task of gathering his
+brood. He flew around, bringing them together, signaling instructions to
+take up positions, and pointing westward along the line of flight. Three
+of his brood, however, were crushed and crumpled fledglings on the
+ground far below. Carpenter, and fat, jolly little McWilliams, had
+collided while engaging an enemy. Their crumpled wings had locked fast
+in an embrace that spun them down dizzily to a crashing, splintering
+death. And Nathan Rodd, he who spared his words, had also been a bit too
+provident or tardy with his fire and had been sent down out of control.
+Cowan had avenged Rodd a second later, sending his attacker down
+spinning and thereby gaining his first victory.
+
+The score, in that far flung encounter, stood one in favor of Cowan's
+squadron, but it was a heavy-hearted group of pilots who at last took up
+formation and headed westward. Their faces had a new, grim look. Flying
+was not all a matter of shooting the other fellow down. Those who had
+witnessed the sickening crash of Carpenter and McWilliams learned at a
+tragic cost that one must be all eyes. The gateman, who controls the
+airways of the skies, was taking his toll, and every one of the group
+that flew westward toward La Ferte, leaving three comrades behind, now
+more soberly considered the alarming casualty figures of eighty per cent
+per month--and wondered!
+
+A month! It is such a little while.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+McGee Makes a Discovery
+
+
+1
+
+Three nights later, while members of the squadron were engaged in the
+usual after mess gab fest, an orderly entered with a summons for McGee
+and Larkin to report to Major Cowan. Larkin had just that day secured a
+misfitting regulation issue uniform from the Supply Officer, Robinson,
+and the group had been having a great deal of fun at his expense. Yancey
+now saw another chance.
+
+"Old Fuss Budget is goin' to have you shot for impersonatin' an officer
+in that scarecrow riggin'," he taunted. "You should have kept your old
+uniform on, like McGee."
+
+"Huh! Robinson didn't have one small enough for McGee," Larkin retorted.
+"They only have men's sizes in the American Army. What's wrong with this
+uniform?"
+
+"Uniform?" Yancey repeated. "Oh, I thought it was a horse blanket."
+
+Larkin thumbed his nose at Yancey as he passed through the door with
+McGee. He knew the Major would have a long wait if he stayed to get
+ahead of Yancey.
+
+Major Cowan appeared to be in an unusually happy frame of mind.
+
+"I've good news for you," he announced as they entered the headquarters
+hut. "In losing Carpenter, McWilliams and Rodd, we have gained you two.
+And instead of the bawling out I expected, I was congratulated for
+unusual foresight. The order assigning you to this squadron will be down
+to-morrow. I hope you are as well pleased as I am."
+
+"Of course we are," McGee answered for both. "We wouldn't feel so much
+at home anywhere else. I'm sorry, of course, to come as a replacement
+for any one of those other chaps. They were fine fellows."
+
+"Of course," Cowan responded, heartily. "Their loss demonstrates the
+value of experience. There was no reason at all for the collision
+between Carpenter and McWilliams. They simply forgot there was anyone
+else in the air. A tough break."
+
+"Any break is a tough one when you don't come back," Larkin said.
+
+The Major seemed to see him now for the first time. "Where in creation
+did you get that gunny sack you're wearing?" he demanded.
+
+Larkin grinned, foolishly. "From Lieutenant Robinson, sir."
+
+"What's it supposed to be?"
+
+"A uniform, sir."
+
+"Thanks. I didn't know." He turned to McGee, who still wore his British
+uniform. "Didn't Robinson have any more masquerade costumes?"
+
+"Not my size, sir."
+
+"Oh, you go in for size? I see Larkin doesn't. Why don't you get
+uniforms?"
+
+"We haven't had a chance, sir," Larkin answered. "There is no tailor
+around here, so I chinned Robinson out of this enlisted man's issue.
+Perhaps," he offered, smiling, "the Major will give us a pass to Paris
+to have uniforms made."
+
+"The Major will not! We've some real work ahead. But--"
+
+The door opened and Siddons entered.
+
+"But don't put that thing back on in the morning," Cowan completed.
+"Your British uniform is at least presentable."
+
+"You sent for me, sir?" Siddons spoke from the doorway, his voice having
+the quality of one who is extremely bored--especially bored with being
+sent for.
+
+"I did." Cowan's voice was crisp. The ends of his moustache began
+twitching jerkily. "I suppose you wonder why I have said nothing to you
+about your failure to rejoin the squadron the other day after you cut
+out at Vitry?"
+
+"Why, no sir," Siddons responded, perfectly at ease. "You said that if
+any of us developed trouble that delayed us, to come on here at the
+earliest possible moment. I was here when you arrived."
+
+"So you were." Cowan was making a stern effort to control his temper.
+"And it is true that I gave you orders to come on here should delaying
+trouble develop. But," he shot a quick, silencing look at McGee, "I
+conducted a little investigation into your landing at Vitry, Lieutenant,
+and I discovered that you took off again within an hour."
+
+Siddons started, almost imperceptibly. His face colored, for a moment,
+but he quickly assumed his habitual nonchalance. It goaded Cowan to an
+inward fury, but he controlled himself well.
+
+"I suppose you can think of some reason why I shouldn't ground you,"
+Cowan said.
+
+"Why, no sir. No reason at all."
+
+"Then I can!" the Major snapped. "You like joy-riding, eh? Like to tour
+France, eh? Very well, I'm going to give you a bit of it to do."
+
+He turned and walked over to a large wall map. "Take a look at this--all
+three of you," he said. "This is a detailed map of our sector. G 2
+believes that the Germans are planning to strike north of here, perhaps
+just south of Soissons. One of their reasons for this suspicion is that
+information has reached G 2 to the effect that Count von Herzmann's
+Circus has pulled out from Roncheres. Where is he now? That's the
+question! The Intelligence sharks at Great Headquarters believe that if
+we can locate his new base we will know something more about the plans
+of the enemy. As a result, every squadron along this front has been
+ordered to make an effort to locate his new position. Personally, I am
+of the opinion that Larkin winged him the other morning, and as a result
+his Circus has been withdrawn, pending his recovery."
+
+Larkin shook his head regretfully. "I wish I could think so, Major. I'd
+like to boast that I had given von Herzmann a little lead poisoning. But
+I don't think so. The tracers showed that my burst was going into his
+motor. I winged that, all right, but he didn't fly like a wounded man."
+
+"Modest enough," Cowan approved. "It seems that G 2 thinks the same
+thing. They have reason to believe that he is in the neighborhood of
+this point here,"--he put a finger on the map--"where the railroad
+between Soissons and Chateau-Thierry crosses the Ourcq."
+
+He turned now directly to Siddons, his eyes cold and piercing.
+"Lieutenant Siddons, you seem to be a most excellent map flyer. You find
+your way here alone, and you tour this part of France with admirable
+ease. To-morrow morning, if the visibility is good, you will take off at
+dawn, cross the line above Bouresches, push on toward Bonnes and as far
+inland as the railroad crossing on the Ourcq--if possible. Is that
+clear?"
+
+"Perfectly, sir." Siddons was as unconcerned and unruffled as though he
+had received an order to fly to Paris.
+
+"You will get the greatest possible altitude before crossing the line,
+and you are to avoid combat. Your mission is to bring us information, if
+possible, concerning the location of enemy 'dromes--and especially von
+Herzmann's base. Am I clear?"
+
+"Perfectly, sir."
+
+One could not but admire the cool confidence of the fellow. His
+complacency was not what Cowan had expected.
+
+"If you think the risk is too great, alone," Cowan said, after watching
+his face for any hint of quailing, "I will send two other planes with
+you. They might help reduce the odds in case of unavoidable combat."
+
+"Oh, that's not necessary," Siddons replied. "In fact, one plane has a
+better chance to escape combat, especially if there are some clouds to
+duck into. Anything else, sir?"
+
+Cowan made a clicking sound with his tongue. The fellow wasn't human; he
+was an iceberg!
+
+"That is all. And I wish you luck."
+
+"Thank you, Major. And thanks for the mission." He gave McGee and Larkin
+the pitying look of one who has just drawn the grand prize in an open
+competition, and without another word turned quickly and passed through
+the door.
+
+Cowan's face had a baffled look. "Well," he finally said, "he acts like
+a gamecock, anyhow."
+
+"Do you realize the danger of the mission?" McGee asked.
+
+"It's not for me to consider that angle," the Major replied. "G 2 wants
+information, and I am under orders to help supply it. Danger? Yes.
+That's war. If we lose--well, I'd rather not discuss it."
+
+At that moment the door opened. There, framed against the night, stood
+Nathan Rodd! In salute he brought a gauze-wrapped hand to his head, a
+head so thickly swathed in bandages that only his face was showing and
+his service cap sat perched at a ridiculous angle.
+
+"Lieutenant Rodd reports for duty, sir," he said.
+
+Cowan, McGee and Larkin had stood transfixed, as men might who thought
+they were seeing a ghost. But Rodd's words, concise and strikingly
+characteristic of the taciturn Vermonter, snapped them into action. This
+was no ghost!
+
+"Rodd!" Major Cowan exclaimed, and rushed across the room to grip Rodd's
+unbandaged left hand. "You here?"
+
+Rodd considered it unnecessary to waste words on so stupid a question.
+He merely offered his hand, when the Major released it, to McGee and
+Larkin, who were pounding him on the back in great glee.
+
+"We thought you were dead," Cowan said.
+
+"So did I--until I woke up," Rodd answered.
+
+Cowan, noting the pallor of his face, pressed him into a chair. "Tell us
+about it," he urged. "Were you badly hurt? What happened? Didn't you
+crack up--"
+
+Rodd lifted his good hand in protest. "One question at a time, Major.
+That German found my motor and it conked. I regained control just in
+time to level off, but not in time to miss a tree. After that I don't
+know what happened. Came to, flat on my back, fifty feet away from my
+plane. It was burning. That's all there is to it."
+
+"All there is to it!" Cowan snorted. "You're not sending a telegram.
+Words won't cost you anything. Where have you been since then?"
+
+"Hospital. Waiting for a chance to skip out."
+
+"You mean--you ran away from the hospital?"
+
+Rodd nodded.
+
+"You are crazy, man! Why did you leave?"
+
+"I don't like hospitals."
+
+"But you are hurt! Is your head badly injured?"
+
+"Cut."
+
+"And your hand?"
+
+"Cut."
+
+Cowan could not escape laughing. McGee and Larkin joined in.
+
+"I'm not laughing at your injury, Lieutenant," Cowan explained, "but at
+your way of telling it. If that should happen to Yancey he'd write a
+book about it. Of course, I'm delighted to see you alive. I had the good
+fortune to wipe out the one that shot you down. He went down spinning."
+
+"See him crash?" Rodd asked.
+
+"No. Things were pretty thick. I didn't have time to watch."
+
+"Didn't kill him," Rodd announced.
+
+"What!"
+
+"He made a better landing than I did. He was trying to bring me to when
+some Frenchies came running up and nabbed him. Decent fellow. The
+Frenchies treated him pretty rough. Put the screws to him, I guess."
+
+"See here," Cowan leaned forward in his chair, "either tell all this
+story, or back you go to the hospital. You say the French questioned
+him?"
+
+"French Intelligence did. Pretty game fellow, they said."
+
+"But he talked?"
+
+"Had to. That was von Herzmann's Circus."
+
+"We know that. Anything else?"
+
+"Yes. He said they knew all about our plans, and were out gunning for
+us."
+
+Cowan's face colored, but with confusion more than anger.
+
+"Anything else?" he asked crisply.
+
+"Well--the Frogs found out something else, but," he cast a quick,
+furtive glance at McGee and Larkin, "but I guess I've talked enough.
+Someone is talking too much, that's certain."
+
+Cowan had seen the glance, and the inference irritated him. "These
+officers have proved their loyalty by service, Lieutenant."
+
+"Yes, sir," was Rodd's meatless reply.
+
+McGee felt genuinely hurt, but at the same time he recognized the fact
+that Rodd's statement was all too true.
+
+"Rodd is quite right, Major," he said, and arose from his chair. "If he
+has any real information, it belongs to you alone--or to G 2. If you've
+nothing further, Larkin and I will be going."
+
+"No, nothing further."
+
+"No orders for to-morrow morning?"
+
+"No."
+
+"May I speak to you a moment--privately?"
+
+"Certainly."
+
+They moved over near the door.
+
+"You gave Siddons a mission I would like to have, Major. Any objections
+if I take a little joy-ride in the morning?"
+
+Cowan's eyes narrowed. "Where?" he asked.
+
+"Over the lines. I'd like to do a little looking for myself."
+
+"With Larkin?"
+
+"No, sir. Alone. Don't even want Larkin to know I'm going. I think I
+know where to locate von Herzmann's Circus."
+
+"What are you driving at, Lieutenant?"
+
+"Major, if I told you half of what I think I know, you'd call me crazy."
+
+"Hm-m! Well, I can't give you permission to go--but I will not be
+looking for you before noon." His sly wink told Red all that he wanted
+to know.
+
+"Yes, sir. Good night, Major. Good night, Rodd. The gang will be mighty
+glad to see you back, old hoss! Come on, Buzz, let's go to bed."
+
+Outside the door Larkin's fuming rage exploded. "Say, what did that
+tongue-tied sap Rodd mean by that dirty dig? If his head wasn't already
+in a sling, I'd--"
+
+"Calm yourself, brother!" Red laughed. "If you had landed on your head
+from as high a point as he did, and then found out it was all brought
+about through a leak, you'd be suspicious of everyone too."
+
+"Maybe so," Larkin answered, somewhat mollified. "What were you buzzing
+old Fuss Budget about?"
+
+"I'll tell you that to-morrow night--maybe."
+
+"Humph!" Larkin snorted. "I guess Rodd's disease is catching. You're
+tongue-tied too!"
+
+Without reply Red led the way across the flying field to their hut.
+Entering, he began fumbling around in the dark for a candle stub. Larkin
+took up the search, by the aid of flickering matches, but the candle was
+nowhere to be found.
+
+"It's a fine war!" Larkin growled, as he began undressing in the dark.
+"All the letters from the States bear the postmark, 'Food Will Win The
+War.' I guess the Army is trying to save on candles, too."
+
+
+2
+
+Before sunup the following morning McGee awoke and began quietly
+dressing. He did not want to awaken Larkin. When he had finished
+dressing he tiptoed cautiously across the floor, opened the creaking
+door ever so slowly and closed it with the same care.
+
+Dawn was just streaking the east. A few birds were offering their first
+roundelays; the grass and trees were wet with a light rain that had
+fallen during the night, and to the northeast the distant guns were
+rumbling their morning song of hate--evil dispositioned giants, guttural
+in their wrath when dawn awoke them to a new day of devastation. Two or
+three sleepy-eyed air mechanics were making their way toward the
+hangars.
+
+McGee stood for a moment outside the hut, studying the sky, which was a
+patchwork of clouds scattered across grey splotches that would turn to
+blue with the coming of the sun. Evidently the sky had been quite
+overcast during the night, but the clouds were broken now, though by no
+means dispersed.
+
+It was an ideal morning for crossing the lines. Convenient cloud banks
+were excellent havens in case of surprise, and Archie fire was less
+accurate when the gunners had to contend with a ship that plunged into
+concealing clouds and out again at the most unexpected places. Of
+course, those same clouds offered concealment for enemy planes, but a
+pilot crossing the lines alone is considerably advantaged by such a sky
+as McGee was now studying approvingly.
+
+As McGee started toward the hangars he saw that some of the ground crew
+were wheeling out Siddons' Nieuport. Well, the Major had stuck to his
+resolution and the order had gone through.
+
+"Where's Lieutenant Siddons going?" McGee asked the Ack Emma who was
+making a careful check of the plane.
+
+"Don't know, sir. Got orders last night to have her ready."
+
+"Did Sergeant Williams get orders for my plane?"
+
+"Yes, sir. Are you and Siddons goin' over on patrol, Lieutenant?"
+
+"I can't answer for Siddons," McGee evaded. "You'd better ask him."
+
+"Huh! A lot of good it would do. Honest, Lieutenant, that fellow talks
+less to us than a cigar store Indian talks to the customers--and that's
+less than nothin'. He thinks we're worms!"
+
+McGee was about to offer his sympathies when another crew, under
+Sergeant Williams, came rolling the Camel out to the line. McGee began
+checking it over with the same minute care which had doubtless gone a
+long way toward making him an ace. He left inspection to no man. His air
+mechanic, knowing this, was equally careful in his work. This diminutive
+lieutenant was as mild as an April morning so long as all was well, but
+when something went wrong he could say more than a six foot
+Major-General.
+
+"All set, Sergeant?" McGee asked, finishing his inspection.
+
+"All set, sir. I just put a new valve in that wind driven gas pump. The
+guy that invented that trick should have been tapped for the simples.
+Why don't you hang this thing on a church steeple, Lieutenant, and get
+one of those Spads?"
+
+"Well, I rather dislike entering a church from the steeple, and I'm sort
+of partial to this old crate. She's tricky on the ground, but I'm used
+to her ways and she's a Lulu upstairs."
+
+He swung into the cockpit and the Sergeant stood at the prop.
+
+"Switch off?"
+
+"Switch off!"
+
+The sergeant pulled over the propeller two times.
+
+"Contact, sir."
+
+"Contact."
+
+The motor caught, and after it had idled a few minutes McGee began
+revving it up.
+
+Just then he noticed Siddons come from around the corner of the hangar,
+carrying what appeared to be a canvas covered pillow. Seeing McGee's
+plane on the line he stopped in surprise, then proceeded to his plane,
+where he fitted the pillow into the seat, patting it in place as a woman
+pats a divan pillow. Then he came across to the side of McGee's plane.
+
+"Did you get orders, too?" he shouted.
+
+McGee cut the gun. "No," he answered truthfully. Satisfied that this
+would not end the questioning, he added, "The Ack Emma has made some
+repairs. I'm going to give her a test."
+
+"Oh, I see. Thought maybe I was going to have the pleasure of your
+company--and your help. Nice morning for my little jaunt, isn't it?"
+
+"Bully!" McGee looked at him closely to discover any hint of fear. It
+simply wasn't there, and Red was forced to the mental admission that he
+had never seen such a cool, confident manner displayed by any pilot
+going over for the first time. "Good luck!" he called, and again began
+revving his motor.
+
+Siddons turned back to his own plane, and with the most casual
+inspection, and with no comment to the mechanic, crawled into his
+cushion padded seat.
+
+McGee, satisfied with the sound of his own motor, nodded to the wing
+boys to remove the chocks, and taxied to a quick take-off. At two or
+three hundred feet he turned, came back across the 'drome and headed in
+the general direction of Paris, climbing steadily and maintaining the
+direction until to the watching ground crew he became lost to view.
+
+Then McGee swung north and began working back eastward. He passed to the
+west of La Ferte, and having gained an altitude of fifteen thousand
+feet, headed directly for the front, intending to cross the line to the
+north of Belleau and proceed toward Fere-en-Tardenois. Then, if fortune
+favored him, he could decide upon a deeper thrust into enemy territory.
+
+The cloud strata was exceptionally deep and yet ragged enough to provide
+frequent glimpses at the world below. The one great danger lay in the
+fact that he might any minute come unexpectedly upon a German pursuit
+group. It was probable, however, that on such a morning they would be
+operating at a lesser altitude.
+
+The trenches, as he crossed the line, were only faintly discernible, the
+detail obscured by the blue ground haze so common to the eyes of the
+pilot operating at high altitudes. But the strip of barren land on each
+side of the trenches gave visible evidence of the grimness of the
+struggle far below, and here and there along the line, miniature geysers
+spouted fan-shaped eruptions of earth with a grotesque, unexpected
+suddenness. Then a second later a new pock-mark on the face of an
+already over-tortured earth showed where the shell had exploded.
+
+It was fascinating to watch. Nerve-racking and ear-splitting as it must
+be to the mud-splashed creatures in the trenches below, from on high the
+land within the neighborhood of the zig-zag trenches took on the
+appearance of a pot of boiling mush--here a crater, there a crater,
+springing into being with an amazing suddenness that lured the observer
+into the game of guessing when the next crater would appear.
+
+McGee was engaged in exactly such mental speculation when he was brought
+to the realization of his own nearness to war by the plane-rocking
+explosion of a well-placed Archie. Then two other giant black roses
+bloomed directly in his path. Now he was presented with his own guessing
+game. Where would the next one be?
+
+He swerved sharply left and dived toward a neighboring cloud. A cloud,
+while seeming from below to have both form and substance, is in reality
+but little different from a dense ground fog. It is enveloping, misty,
+eerie, and cuts off all visible contact with the world. If it covers a
+large air area, then the pilot may face some nice problems in correct
+and stable navigation, but if it is only a patch, he drives straight
+along his course, knowing that he will plunge out into the sunlight with
+the same suddenness with which he left it. Clouds are particularly
+welcome when Archie gunners begin to plaster the air with high explosive
+shells.
+
+As McGee came out of this cloud, his attention was drawn to a number of
+black bursts some three thousand feet below, but which clustered around
+a lone Nieuport flying at a forty-five degree angle to the line of
+flight which McGee was pursuing. That Archie crew knew their business,
+and McGee thought they appeared uncomfortably near the Nieuport. Then,
+as he watched, the Nieuport did a strange thing. Instead of making a
+sudden change in direction or a quick dive, either of which would compel
+the gunner to make another quick calculation in his range, it merely
+rolled once, then dipped twice, and proceeded on its way. The Archie
+fire ceased as suddenly as it had commenced.
+
+McGee streaked across another open patch of sky and entered another
+cloud. Coming out of this one he again spotted the lone Nieuport and
+corrected his own line to correspond with that of the lone flyer below.
+Now, studying it more closely, and with more time, he felt sure that it
+was Siddons' plane. One thing certain, the red, white and blue cockades
+established it as an American manned plane, and who, save a novice,
+McGee reasoned, would roll and make a slight dip to escape Archie fire.
+That particular battery must have been too convulsed by laughter to
+continue their fire. Had that stupid pilot, whoever he was, forgotten
+what he had been told concerning Archie fire?
+
+With the same surprising suddenness with which Archies always proclaim
+their presence, three more black puff balls inked the air directly ahead
+of the Nieuport. They were off the mark, but they furnished data for
+other guns which began filling the air. Evidently the gunners had not
+yet seen McGee, who was much higher and considerably behind the
+Nieuport, for they were concentrating on that plane.
+
+To McGee's surprise the Nieuport again rolled, then dipped twice, and
+the guns below immediately ceased firing. McGee decided it was time to
+seek the seclusion of a nearby cloud and while driving through it, do a
+little thinking.
+
+What he had just witnessed was enough to make any experienced pilot
+think. Someone, flying a Nieuport, had a most novel way of treating with
+anti-aircraft gunners. He merely rolled over, straightened out, dipped
+twice, and the guns promptly left off their quarreling. No one could be
+stupid enough to reason that such manoeuver would discomfit the gunners,
+and yet in this case the effect was more efficacious than any manoeuver
+yet invented.
+
+McGee smiled at the stupidity of the thought. It was effective only
+because it was a signal, prearranged and understood by the anti-aircraft
+gunners. The pilot of that Nieuport was in communication with the enemy,
+and McGee believed that man to be Siddons!
+
+It all came to him in a flash. Who, better than Siddons, could have
+supplied the enemy with the information that brought them over to bomb
+the green squadron when they were stationed near Is-Sur-Tille? Someone
+supplied it, for Cowan had found in the pocket of the German flyer whom
+he, McGee, had brought down, an order disclosing the very fact that the
+raid had been planned on Intelligence reports. And where had Siddons
+gone that day after landing at Vitry on the slenderest excuse? The
+French Major said he had taken off within an hour. And the very next
+morning the squadron stumbled into a net spread by von Herzmann, and but
+for the timely and unexpected arrival of a large group of French Spads
+the harvest would have been great indeed. Could it be that Siddons had
+crossed the lines the previous afternoon, escaping Archie fire by a
+simple code of air signals, and disclosed the entire plan to the enemy?
+
+McGee felt a hot wave of ungovernable anger sweep over him. He no longer
+had any doubts whatsoever. Two and two make four. Siddons was a traitor
+to his country. To his country? No, doubtless he was one of the many who
+had been trained for years against this very hour of need. On false
+records he had gained admission to the American Air Force, and now--
+
+McGee came out of the cloud into the clear sunlight, and began searching
+the sky for the Nieuport. It was not to be seen. He flew on, encountered
+other clouds, came out again, but the Nieuport had miraculously
+disappeared.
+
+McGee flew steadily northeast until he spotted an exceptionally large
+group of enemy planes, working up from the direction in which he was
+headed.
+
+It was time to turn around. He was quite too far into enemy territory to
+feel comfortable, and that swarm of planes made him unusually homesick,
+even though they were far below him.
+
+But just as he banked into a left turn he noticed that they were nosing
+down, sharply. He flew along the misty edge of a cloud, watching
+closely. Down, down, they went, becoming mere specks against the
+blue-grey ground haze.
+
+They were about to make a landing! There could be no doubt of it, though
+at this distance and altitude he could not make out their hangars. On
+down they dropped, until at last they seemed to be engulfed by a greyish
+sea that shut out all definite form.
+
+McGee had come for information, and here it was within his grasp if he
+were only willing to take a chance.
+
+The strata of clouds against which he was flying stretched in the
+general direction of the place where he had lost sight of the large
+flight of planes.
+
+He ducked into the clouds and drove along until he estimated that he was
+somewhere in the right neighborhood.
+
+Coming out into an open sky he located a considerable forest far to his
+right and another one several kilometers directly ahead. Directly
+between these a ribbon of white marked its twisting course. That would
+be the Ourcq, and the forest beyond would be the Forest de Nesles.
+And--yes, there just beyond the river was a town--which McGee concluded
+must be Fere-en-Tardenois--and a little way from its outskirts a group
+of drab square blocks that caught and held his eyes.
+
+Too much ground haze to make them out. Well, a chance is a chance, he
+reasoned, as over went the Camel's nose in a long dive.
+
+Twice he checked the dive, only to dive again. He hated to give up
+altitude, but he was determined to get a look.
+
+After the third dive, and the loss of several thousand feet, he made out
+the drab-colored canvas hangars of a German 'drome, and poised on the
+open field was a veritable swarm of little moths appearing to be drying
+their wings in the sun. Three of them began racing along the ground and
+bounded into the air. At the same minute an Archie battery opened from
+the town. The burst was wide of McGee's plane, but there was no
+mistaking their sincerity nor the fact that those three harmless
+appearing moths below were climbing to the attack.
+
+Red gave his Camel all he thought it could stand as he climbed for the
+protecting clouds. Information was of no value if sealed by a dead man's
+lips. He had learned far too much this morning to chance any fight with
+anyone that could possibly be avoided.
+
+The Archie fire continued until he had regained the clouds, and even
+then two or three more shells burst harmlessly somewhere ahead in the
+grey mist wall. He changed his direction sharply and roared along on a
+full throttle.
+
+His heart was racing with his motor. He felt convinced that the 'drome
+he had located was a new base for the squadron he had just seen, for
+were they not coming up from the interior? Doubtless he had stumbled on
+to a movement of some importance. Just how important he could not know,
+but G 2 would be delighted with such information. Could that squadron, he
+wondered, by rare good fortune be the Circus of the famed von Herzmann?
+
+Over Etrepilly an Archie battery hurled aloft a smashing,
+plane-staggering burst of black puff balls. A jagged piece of steel tore
+through his left wing. Too close, that!
+
+He dived steeply. More shells burst above him. Above, but still
+uncomfortably close. Those gunners were real marksmen.
+
+Suddenly he thought of what he had seen the lone Nieuport do. It might
+be worth trying. Acting on the impulse he rolled, straightened out, then
+dipped twice. One more shell came screaming aloft and then the batteries
+became abruptly silent.
+
+Well, that was that! There could be no question now as to the movement
+being a prearranged signal. Archie gunners would not ordinarily leave
+off firing at any such stupid performance--they would chuckle while they
+locked the breach on another shell, and forthwith blow that fellow into
+Kingdom Come.
+
+McGee was in high fettle as he streaked across the lines south of
+Belleau and laid a course for home. He had a great deal to report, and
+someone, flying a lone Nieuport, was going to have a great deal of
+explaining to do.
+
+
+3
+
+When McGee swooped low over his own hangar, preparatory to a landing, he
+was surprised to see Siddons' Nieuport resting on the tarmac. So he was
+back so soon!
+
+Larkin was the first to greet McGee when he crawled from his plane.
+
+"Where've you been?" he demanded.
+
+"Oh, just up for a little test," McGee replied, assuming an air of
+indifference.
+
+Larkin pointed to the jagged hole through the fabric of the left wing.
+
+"Don't kid me!" he said. "Where'd you pick up that little souvenir?"
+
+"I'll tell you later," McGee answered and started toward the Major's
+headquarters.
+
+Larkin seized his arm and spun him around. "You'll tell me one thing
+right now, little feller! What's so funny about hiding my uniform so
+I'll get bawled out again by Old Fuss Budget for wearing this misfit?"
+
+McGee looked at him blankly.
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"Mean? I mean you got up so early a respectable milkman wouldn't think
+of being up, and with your brain a bit foggy you thought what a clever
+idea it would be to hide my English uniform and give this gang of
+Indians another day of pleasure. What's the big idea?"
+
+McGee shook his head. "I never touched your uniform, Buzz. Come to think
+of it, though, I don't remember seeing it this morning while I was
+dressing. Did you see it last night?"
+
+"See it last night!" Larkin snorted. "How could I? We couldn't find the
+candle and it was so blasted dark that I hung my shoes on a chair and my
+pants on the floor. Quit foolin', Red. Where's that uniform?"
+
+"I don't know, I tell you. But if I were you I'd go ask Yancey that
+question."
+
+Larkin's eyes snapped. "That's the bozo! That Texas longhorn is just
+before meeting up with a real cyclone."
+
+"Better go easy," Red warned. "He's used to cyclones, and I've always
+had a sort of feeling that he could take care of himself in heavy
+weather."
+
+Nothing daunted, Buzz went bowling off in search of Yancey, and McGee
+crossed the 'drome to Cowan's headquarters.
+
+The excited enthusiasm with which McGee began his report to Cowan was
+quickly cooled by the Major's expressionless indifference. Throughout
+McGee's narration of the events of the morning, Cowan continued studying
+a sheaf of papers lying on the desk before him, now and then penciling
+thereon some memorandum or brief endorsement. That part of the report
+dealing with the actions of the lone Nieuport, which seemed to have a
+system of signals to insure safe passage over the lines, brought from
+the Major no more than a throaty, "Hum-m." It angered McGee, and brought
+from him a heated charge which under other conditions he would have
+hesitated to make.
+
+"And the man who was piloting that plane is a member of this squadron,"
+he blurted out.
+
+Cowan casually turned a sheet of paper. "Indeed," he replied, continuing
+his reading. It was maddening.
+
+"Has Siddons reported to you, sir?" McGee asked, pointedly.
+
+"Yes." Cowan arose and looked straight at the flushed young pilot. His
+eyes were uncommunicative. "Lieutenant Siddons just left here with
+Colonel Watts, going back to Wing headquarters," he said. "I may tell
+you, Lieutenant, that the Colonel came down a short time after Siddons
+hopped off, and gave me a most uncomfortable half hour for sending him
+over. We will discuss it no further, and I charge you with absolute
+silence in the matter. You are to say nothing, to anyone, concerning
+this entire matter. You understand?"
+
+"I understand that I'm to keep silent, sir--but I don't understand the
+rest of it."
+
+"It isn't necessary that you do. That is all, Lieutenant."
+
+"But what about that 'drome I located at Fere-en-Tardenois? I think it
+is Count von Herzmann's Cir--"
+
+"You think wrong, McGee, but whatever you think, don't think out loud.
+That is all, Lieutenant."
+
+"Yes, sir. And there are no orders for--"
+
+"Orders will be a little more secret--in the future." Cowan's voice was
+crisp, and carried a note of dismissal.
+
+"Yes, sir." McGee saluted stiffly, turned on his heel and walked from
+the room, steaming with anger. Outside the door he picked up a small
+stone from the newly graveled walk and hurled it singing through the top
+of a nearby poplar. He simply had to throw something.
+
+"You poor prune!" he addressed himself. "You never did have enough sense
+to know when you were well off."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+Lady Luck Deserts
+
+
+1
+
+There followed three days of maddening inactivity, during which time the
+squadron fretted and became as edgy as so many caged tigers. McGee made
+use of the time by securing a trim fitting uniform, the very sight of
+which threw Larkin into new outbursts of rage concerning the
+disappearance of his English uniform. A joke was a joke, when not
+carried too far, he argued, and admitted that he was exceedingly weary
+with the comments made concerning the fit of the issue uniform that he
+was compelled to wear. Every man professed innocence, but Larkin did not
+believe a word of their stout denials. The manner in which he took the
+joke was evidence of the irritability caused by the days of inaction.
+Every member of the squadron was looking for something over which they
+could quarrel.
+
+Then one night, about nine o'clock, orders came down for a dawn patrol
+of two flights of five ships each.
+
+Cowan summoned McGee and Larkin to his headquarters and gave them
+leadership of the flights. McGee protested, pointing out that he did not
+want to gain the honor at Yancey's expense, and particularly since he
+considered Yancey worthy of the command. But Cowan was sure of the
+wisdom of the move, and made his own selection of the men who were to go
+on this first patrol.
+
+The posting of those names on the bulletin board brought shouts of
+delight from the lucky ones and growls of disgust from those who were
+not selected.
+
+Even Nathan Rodd, still wearing bandages on his head and right hand,
+broke his silence and wolfed loudly over the fact that he had been left
+out.
+
+"Aw, dry up!" some other unfortunate pilot growled at him. "You're still
+seein' stars from that last crack you got on the head. What do you
+want--all the luck?"
+
+It was an expression peculiarly fitting to the situation. Some of the
+names on that bulletin board might next appear in the casualty reports,
+yet every man wanted his name on the board, firm in the belief that
+death would somehow pass him by.
+
+In McGee's flight appeared the names of Tex Yancey, Hank Porter,
+Randolph Hampden, and of all luck--Siddons!
+
+McGee started to make protest, thought better of it, and biting his lips
+savagely left the group around the board and went to his quarters. Of
+all the good men in the squadron, why should that traitorous scoundrel
+be included and other loyal deserving pilots be left behind? Someone was
+being pig-headed indeed!
+
+
+2
+
+Along about two o'clock in the morning the eager pilots, tossing on
+their beds in a sleeplessness induced by the promise of the coming of
+dawn, were more fully awakened by the deep and sullen thundering of
+thousands of big guns hammering at the lines. It was no fitful,
+momentary outburst; it was the constant earth-shaking roar that presages
+a drive. To the north and east the sky flickered with the light coming
+from thousands of cannon mouths. It was like the coming of a summer
+storm when the thunder god growls his wrath and lightning plays
+constantly over the giant thunderheads.
+
+There could be no sleep now for the anxious pilots. Something had popped
+loose up there, and in a few more hours they would be on their way up to
+witness this far-flung duel.
+
+The flickering, flashing light of cannon fire faded at last before the
+salmon and rose colored morning light that streaked the smoke clouds
+lying across the pathway of the coming sun. Long before that orb of
+light arose, red-eyed, over a new scene of carnage, ten planes were out
+on the line, motors warming, while the pilots and mechanics made last
+minute inspections. Every member of the squadron was present; the
+unlucky ones to bid good luck to those chosen for the mission and to see
+the take-off of this first dawn patrol. Their interest was intensified
+by the throaty rumbling of the distant guns.
+
+It was an hour of high suspense. For this hour every man present had
+waited with a keen desire that had been his prompter and spur through
+all the long, wearying months of training. All the schooling in theory
+was now behind. Experience, that hard teacher, was now at the controls.
+The school of machine gunnery, where dummies and swift moving targets
+had served as theoretical enemies, was now to become a real school where
+the enemy was also armed and where mistakes and misses were likely to
+hurl the pupil out of the class with never a chance to profit by the
+mistake.
+
+The dawn patrol! The day! From this hour they would begin to tally their
+earned victories. On this night, if lucky enough to encounter the enemy,
+some of them would send in reports that would start them up the ladder
+toward that coveted rank--an ace! It never entered the mind of any one
+of them that some enemy pilot, already an ace and rich in experience,
+might send in a report fattening his record and increasing his fame. No,
+no! Air battle is made possible only by thoughts of victory.
+
+McGee walked over to Yancey's plane. The gangling Texan was testing his
+rudder controls and flipping his ailerons with jerky movements of
+evident impatience.
+
+"I want you to know," McGee said to him, "that I did not ask for this
+flight. It is yours, by rights."
+
+Yancey's grin was genuinely friendly. "Shucks, that's nothin'. I'm glad
+to be out. Bein' a flight leader sorter cramped my style anyhow. This
+way I can do a little free-lancin'--if I see some cold turkey."
+
+"You leave cold turkey alone and stay in formation," McGee replied.
+"Just remember, old man Shakespeare was talking about the air service
+when he said 'things are not always what they seem'."
+
+"I'll be good unless I spot some of those German observation balloons.
+I've a sneaky feelin' I could eat up two or three of those sausages
+before I come back here for breakfast without havin' my appetite
+spoiled."
+
+McGee shook his head in serious warning. "Leave them alone, Yancey. They
+look easy, but the Archie gunners can fill the air around 'em so full of
+lead that a bee couldn't fly through. And as for flaming onions--boy! We
+are out on combat patrol, remember. This is no joy-ride."
+
+"Sure. But--"
+
+That moment Major Cowan came running across the field and hurried up to
+McGee. His excitement was evident in every movement.
+
+"Orders just came," he began, hurriedly, "for every available ship to
+proceed to the bridges at Dormans and Chateau-Thierry. Bombers are going
+up, also. The Germans have started a big drive."
+
+His manner, and the electrifying words, had drawn every man around him
+in a close circle. "That's what all the gun fire is about--barrages and
+counter-barrages. Disregard the patrol orders, Lieutenant, and proceed
+with these two flights to Dormans--at once! You are to do everything in
+your power to retard the enemy advance, harass their troops, and
+especially harass their advanced positions and lines of supply. Do you
+understand?"
+
+"Perfectly, sir."
+
+"Good! Take off at once! I will at once get out all other available
+ships and lead them against the lines at Chateau-Thierry. You've the
+head start, and must, therefore, take Dormans. Snappy, now!"
+
+A cheer went up from those pilots who a moment before had been cursing
+the luck that had left them behind. They started running for the
+hangars.
+
+As McGee climbed into his plane, Yancey "blipped" his motor and shouted,
+"Who said this wasn't a joy-ride?"
+
+The revving motors drowned out all other sounds. Helmets were given a
+last minute tug.
+
+McGee looked along the line and lifted his hand. The nine others chosen
+for dawn patrol signaled their readiness.
+
+Out came wheel chocks, motors roared into the smooth sound of ripping
+silk as one by one they lurched down across the field and took the air.
+
+The heart of every man in the flight, save McGee's, was racing in tune
+with his motor. Here was a mission so much more exciting than any dawn
+patrol.
+
+Harass the advancing enemy! And their line of supplies! Storm down and
+spew out lead on the bridges where the troops would be crossing! Here
+was action of the highest order, in which, in all probability, formation
+flying would be broken up and it would be every fellow for himself.
+
+McGee alone knew the danger and hazard of their mission. In a big push
+the enemy planes would be out in great number, determined to sweep the
+air free of resistance. To harass troops, McGee knew, they must fly low.
+In so doing they would run a constant gauntlet of machine gun and rifle
+fire, in addition to frequently traversing the line of flight of high
+angle heavy artillery. It was not pleasant to think of meeting up with
+one of those big G.I. cans loaded with enough high explosive to
+demolish a building. Just get in the way of one of them and what would
+be left could be placed in a small basket. Added to all this was the
+fact that all altitude was sacrificed, and a green pilot, out cutting
+eye-teeth, needs altitude in case of attack.
+
+To McGee the outlook was gloomy enough. Doubtless the venture would run
+up a stiff casualty list, but every needed sacrifice must be made here!
+And now! The French and Americans below must not let the Hun break
+through. Paris, all too near, was the objective of the drive. If they
+broke through and reached Paris--well, they must not break through!
+
+McGee saw the planes of another American squadron working up toward the
+front on his left. High above his flight was a large group of French
+Spads. He watched them, turning his head aloft from time to time. They
+seemed to be hovering over him and following his course. Far ahead, and
+below, he could see enemy observation balloons straining at their
+cables. Black geysers of earth, sand, and mud, were spouting from the
+tortured strip along the river. The earth below was an inferno of
+flashing, thundering shells. The front! And the drive was on!
+
+He glanced up again. The French Spads were still above, a trained,
+experienced group of war hawks sent up to take care of the "upstairs"
+fighting while the Americans did the dirty work below. Cowan had not
+mentioned this. Perhaps he did not know of it. McGee knew that in big
+operations, and especially in such emergencies as this, orders were
+issued without disclosing the whole plan to all participants. If each
+unit obeys and carries out the orders received, then all goes well.
+
+So far, all was well, and McGee was extremely grateful for that
+protecting flight of Spads.
+
+He determined to cross the river west of Dormans, make a thrust well
+back of the lines, cut out again over Dormans and then, if luck were
+with them, repeat the performance. No need to lay plans too far in
+advance. Too much can happen in the tick of a second--things that knock
+plans and the planner into a cocked hat.
+
+Below them now was a far-flung battle of raging intensity. German troops
+could be seen moving along toward the river, and a little farther inland
+McGee spotted a long line of infantrymen along a road paralleling the
+river. But they were moving westward, in the direction of
+Chateau-Thierry, instead of toward the bridgehead at Dormans. And in
+addition to the marching men, the road was choked with artillery,
+caissons, ammunition wagons, and ambulances.
+
+Here was an opportunity made to order, and just as McGee was preparing
+to give the signal, he saw Yancey cut out and dive toward an observation
+balloon that was being rapidly drawn down by excited winchmen. No use to
+try to signal Yancey; that wild Texan was off on his joy-ride.
+
+Archies and machine gun fire tried vainly to stop Yancey's wild dive.
+Flaming onions began surging upward in their terrifying circlets, but
+Yancey was as scornful of them as is a Texas steer of a buzzing deer
+fly. His guns rattled in a short burst and the balloon exploded with a
+terrific blast of flame and smoke. Yancey's plane rocked perilously. His
+inexperience in "busting balloons" had come near being his own undoing.
+But he righted his plane, somehow escaped the hail of shot and steel all
+around him and came plunging back down the road filled with
+fear-stricken men and plunging horses, his guns rattling joyously.
+
+McGee, followed by Siddons, Porter and Fouche, swooped along the road
+from the opposite direction, scattering the troops like chaff. With
+death raining down on them from opposite but converging points, the
+German infantrymen broke wildly for cover. Their less fortunate
+comrades, the cannoneers and drivers of caissons and supply wagons,
+stuck to their posts, trying to calm the rearing, plunging horses and
+cursing the inexorable wasps that sent stinging death down on them.
+
+Yancey, in particular, seemed to be in his glory. Half a dozen times he
+swung around, gained a little altitude, and again went plowing down
+along the road, his guns jumping and smoking in fiendish delight.
+
+Harass the advancing enemy, eh? And the line of supplies? A job exactly
+suited to Yancey's heart and spirit.
+
+But McGee was wise in such matters, and having delivered a blow drew off
+and sought other fields to conquer. It was not wise to stay long in any
+one place.
+
+He had expected Yancey to follow, but that worthy was too delighted with
+his find, and when he tired of it at last it was to discover that he was
+very much alone. Nothing could have suited him better. Now he was
+answerable only to himself--and to Luck!
+
+He began climbing, and casting an eye over the sky for balloons within
+striking distance. After all, strafing infantrymen wasn't half as much
+fun as knocking down balloons. They went up with such a glorious bang!
+And it was delicious to watch the frightened observer tumble over the
+side of the basket in an effort to escape by parachute. That last one
+had somehow gotten fouled in the rigging and had been clawing
+frantically when the bag exploded. As for that, Yancey had been sorry;
+not for the man, but because he had wanted to see the parachute
+_poof-op!_ into a suddenly blown white flower at which he might
+take a few shots by way of testing his aim. Well, maybe he'd have better
+luck with the next one.
+
+With no thought of danger, and with his heart racing in a new
+exhilaration which he had never before felt, Yancey started out alone on
+a career that was to bring him a fame coveted by every man in the
+squadron, but a fame which they did not care to gain by this most
+hazardous of war sports--"balloon busting." Only men who cannot, or will
+not weigh danger, become balloon busters. And of these was Yancey, the
+"flying fool" of the squadron, concerning whom there was never any
+agreement among the others as to whether he didn't know any better or
+knew better and did it _because_ it was dangerous.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+McGee, with Siddons, Porter and Fouche following, swung eastward toward
+Dormans. Above them, as a protecting layer, flew Larkin with his flight,
+and still above them, much higher, were the French Spads.
+
+This state of affairs could not last long, McGee knew. It was only a
+question of time until German planes would come up and accept the gage
+of battle. It was a situation, therefore, calling for the greatest
+effort possible in the shortest length of time.
+
+Every movement below offered positive proof that the enemy were
+concentrating in the direction of Chateau-Thierry, and if they were in
+fact making a thrust to the eastward it was only to draw attention from
+the real objective.
+
+For once McGee decided to disregard the Major's orders and, instead of
+proceeding to Dormans, swing back and do all he could at the bridgeheads
+at Chateau-Thierry.
+
+He swung around, and as he banked caught sight of seven or eight German
+planes coming up from the northwest. He looked aloft. The Spads had seen
+them, too, and were closing in.
+
+McGee began climbing, and noted with satisfaction that Larkin, on the
+alert, was waggling his wings as a signal that he too had seen them and
+was prepared.
+
+Then, for apparently no reason at all, Siddons cut out of the flight and
+started streaking it for the lines.
+
+For a brief moment McGee felt a burning desire to take after him and
+turn his guns loose on him.
+
+"Traitorous hound!" he muttered to himself. "I wondered how you could
+follow when we were strafing those troops. I'll bet anything he never
+warmed his guns. Of course he wouldn't!"
+
+But just now there was business at hand more urgent than chasing after a
+man whom he felt sure was both a traitor and a coward.
+
+Above him the Spads were engaged in a merry dog fight with the German
+Albatrosses. But two of the Germans had somehow eluded them and were
+diving down on Larkin's flight.
+
+The action of the next moment was too swift for words. The two
+Albatrosses came bravely on, scorning the odds against them. Larkin's
+plane engaged the first one, but the second one got in a lucky burst
+that sent one of the Nieuports nosing down in a disabled effort to make
+a safe landing. And perhaps the luckless pilot could have saved his life
+to spend the rest of the war in a German prison camp but for the fact
+that the German who had crippled him, tasting blood, wanted a more
+complete victory. Down, down, he followed the plane, spitting lead at
+the poor pilot who seemed unable to think of anything except getting to
+the earth.
+
+As the planes came down to a level with McGee's flight, Red whipped
+around and closed in on the pursuer. Too late! Flame came curling,
+licking from the motor of the Nieuport. That second, for the first time,
+McGee recognized it as Randolph Hampden's ship. Poor Hampden! The only
+man in the squadron who ever had a good word for Siddons, and now he was
+going down in flames while Siddons, supposedly his friend, was
+high-tailing it for home.
+
+With bitterest venom McGee thumbed his trigger releases as he caught a
+fleeting glimpse of the Albatross in the ring sight. But that German was
+not only courageous--he was a consummate flyer. He whipped around with
+surprising speed and came streaming at McGee with both guns going. Head
+on he came, and there was something about the desperation of the move
+that told McGee that the battle-crazed fellow would actually ram him in
+mid-air.
+
+McGee dived. So close was the other upon him that he imagined he could
+feel the wheels of the undercarriage on his own wings.
+
+He Immelmanned, only to discover that by some brilliantly rapid
+manoeuver the German had rolled into position and was rattling bullets
+into the Camel's motor. Crack! One of the bullets struck a vital part
+and the motor started limping. McGee's heart came into his mouth. He was
+disabled and--
+
+That moment Hank Porter and Fouche closed in on the German and Larkin
+came diving down from above. Three against one! McGee, despite his own
+predicament, felt like saluting the fellow's dare-devil courage. Larkin
+could take care of him alone, even should Porter and Fouche fail.
+
+Certain of the outcome of the now unequal struggle, McGee turned the
+nose of his pounding plane in the direction of the lines near Mezy, and
+prayed fervently that the failing motor would not conk completely before
+he reached and crossed the river. He had no desire whatsoever to spend
+the remainder of the war in a German prison. Even that, however, was
+preferable to being sent down in flames, and he kept a sharp lookout for
+any attack that might come from some keen-eyed German looking for "cold
+meat."
+
+Presently he noticed a shadow sweep across his plane. He glanced up
+fearfully, and then smiled with delight. It was Larkin, following along
+to give battle to any or all who might pounce upon his friend. McGee
+felt a new surge of hope. Why had he even thought he would have to make
+the trial alone? Larkin, who never deserted, who never failed in a
+pinch, had disposed of that German in great haste and was ready for
+whatever the next few minutes might bring.
+
+For McGee those next minutes were filled with a thousand misgivings. The
+ship was losing altitude rapidly, and the motor was pounding furiously,
+but if it would only hold up he could make it.
+
+When he flashed across the river at Mezy, with some eight hundred feet
+to spare, he turned and waved a light-hearted O.K. to Larkin, and began
+to look for some landing place free of shell craters.
+
+It was not unlike looking for land in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean.
+Barrage after barrage had marked the earth with the deep scarred pocks
+of war. He must push on toward the rear with the last inch that could be
+wrung from that motor and then land straight ahead, leaving the outcome
+to Lady Luck. She had never deserted him completely--
+
+That moment she deserted. The motor conked with a non-stuttering
+finality. Now for a dead stick landing, straight ahead! If he could only
+pancake her down just beyond that big hole, maybe she would stop
+rolling--
+
+He pancaked, but in doing so struck too hard. The undercarriage was
+wiped out completely. He felt the bound, followed by a terrific up-fling
+of the tail, and then a thousand stars went shooting before his eyes and
+it seemed that a lightning bolt rived his brain. Then darkness--and an
+infinite peace....
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+Medals and Chevrons
+
+
+1
+
+When McGee next opened his eyes, it was upon a world in which white
+seemed to be the shockingly outstanding scheme of things. White walls, a
+white painted fence, which he at last concluded must be the end of an
+iron bed, and just beyond this, near at hand yet seemingly miles and
+miles away, a woman in spotless white. He couldn't quite make out her
+face, in fact all detail was lost in a dim haze that refused to be
+cleared up by a blinking of the eyes. And there was such a roaring
+sound, as of a mighty waterfall thundering down into an echoing canyon.
+
+Oh, yes! His head. He tried to lift his left hand to feel of his head,
+but the muscles failed to respond. Indeed, the arm seemed not only
+lifeless, but to be clamped firmly across his chest by tight bonds. He
+tried the right arm. It responded, and the hand came up to touch and
+wonder at the large bundle of cloth that should be his head.
+
+The woman in white moved toward him, quickly, and he was about to form a
+question when she faded before his very eyes, and the thundering
+waterfall left off its roaring as he floated out of the world of white
+into a black, obliterating nothingness.
+
+Hours later he again opened his eyes. Again he saw a woman in white at
+the foot of what he now knew to be a bed. She smiled, a sort of cheery,
+wordless greeting. He could see distinctly now, and the thunder of the
+rushing torrent had subsided until it was little more than a wind
+whispering among the tree tops. But the left arm was still lifeless and
+numb, and his head felt as large as a tub.
+
+"Where am I?" he asked, and was startled by the feebleness of the voice
+which seemed in no way related to him.
+
+The woman in white bent over him, smoothing the pillow and pressing him
+back upon it.
+
+"You must be quiet," she said, "and not talk, or try to move."
+
+Funny thing to say. Why shouldn't he talk--especially when he had so
+much to learn about this strange place?
+
+"But where am--"
+
+The figure in white began fading away again, a most distressing habit,
+and darkness again rushed at him from the white walls.
+
+Hours later he again opened his eyes, realizing at once that it was
+night, though objects could be dimly seen by the glow of the one light
+at the far end of the room. He could hear voices, and with a slight turn
+of the head saw a man in uniform talking with the white-clad woman who
+could so suddenly and miraculously disappear. At the movement the man
+turned quickly.
+
+It was Larkin, and the worried lines in his face were swept away by a
+quick, cheery smile as he bent over the bed and pressed McGee's right
+hand in a manner that spoke more than words.
+
+"What happened, Buzz?" McGee asked, and was again surprised at the thin
+quality of his voice.
+
+"You're all right, old hoss," Larkin evaded, "but you mustn't talk yet.
+Be quiet now. To-morrow night I'll be back and tell you all about it."
+
+"But--"
+
+"Quiet now! See you to-morrow," and with another squeeze of the hand he
+was gone.
+
+Well, McGee thought, it was rather tiring to try to think. Sleep was so
+easy--and so soft.
+
+
+2
+
+The following evening Larkin came back again, just as the nurse had
+finished giving McGee a light, liquid meal.
+
+"Hello, you little shrimp!" he sang out cheerily. "Eyes bright and
+everything! Old Saw Bones just told me I could see you for five
+minutes--but to do all the talking. You can have three questions only."
+
+A thin, tired smile came to McGee's freckled face, a face almost hidden
+under the bandages that completely covered his head.
+
+"All right," he said. "First question--will I fly again?"
+
+"Of course! In four or five weeks you'll be good as new."
+
+"Four or five weeks! What--"
+
+"Careful now, or you'll use up all your questions. When you set that
+Camel down in a shell hole she flipped over and your head was slightly
+softer than a big rock that happened to be handy. I would have bet on
+the rock being softest, but it seems I'd lost. You went blotto. A bunch
+of soldiers dragged you out from under what was left of that
+Camel--which wasn't much. Then an ambulance brought you back here. This
+hospital is about five kilos from squadron headquarters, and I've been
+back here twice a day for the past five days, worrying my head off for
+fear you'd never come to."
+
+"Five days?" Red responded, his voice indicating his disbelief.
+
+"Yep, five days. Three days passed before you even opened your eyes. Try
+and land on your feet, next time."
+
+"The nurse tells me my left arm is broken," McGee said. "Wonder how I
+got that?"
+
+"You've used up all your questions," Larkin told him, laughing, "and
+I've used up all my time. I want to be good so that Old Saw Bones will
+let me see you to-morrow night."
+
+"Wait," McGee began, but the nurse interposed herself.
+
+"No more to-night," she said. "In a day or two you can talk as much as
+you like."
+
+The next two or three days passed slowly for McGee. Each night Larkin
+came back from squadron headquarters in a motor cycle side car, but his
+stays were so brief that Red had no chance to get any but the most
+fragmentary news.
+
+As for news from the front, he could drag nothing from the nurses or
+from Larkin, and when he inquired after members of the squadron Buzz
+would reply with an evasive, "Oh, they're all right," and shift the
+conversation into the most commonplace channels.
+
+Ten days of this, and the surgeon gave his O.K. to the use of a wheel
+chair, which was pushed around the grounds by one of the hospital
+orderlies. The grounds were extremely beautiful, the hospital having
+been a famous resort hotel before the exigencies of warfare required its
+conversion into one of the thousands of hospitals scattered throughout
+France.
+
+Great beech and chestnut trees covered the lawn, and to one side was a
+miniature lake, centered by a sparkling fountain, on whose wind-dimpled
+surface graceful, proud swans moved with a stately ease that scorned
+haste or show of effort.
+
+On the second day of exploration in the wheel chair, Larkin came in the
+afternoon and, relieving the orderly, pushed Red's chair down to a deep
+shaded spot by the side of the pond.
+
+"I can't see why they won't let me walk around," McGee complained.
+"There's nothing wrong with my legs."
+
+"No, but they're not so sure about that head, yet. Another few days and
+you'll be running foot races," Larkin assured him.
+
+"How long does it take a broken arm to heal, Buzz?"
+
+"Two or three weeks--maybe four. You had a bad break. Maybe a little
+longer. You're lucky, after all--maybe."
+
+"What do you mean, lucky?" Red looked at him quizzically.
+
+"Well, some of the boys haven't gotten off so easy."
+
+"See here, Buzz, I'm tired of snatches of news. Tell me all you know
+about--about everything. Back here the war seems so far away--and
+unreal. Except for all these wounded men, and the uniforms, I'd never
+think of it. No guns, no action, no--no dawn patrols. I feel like a fish
+out of water. But there must be some little old war going on up there.
+I've heard about Chateau-Thierry, by piecemeal. Boy! It was the big show
+starting the very morning I got it, and we didn't even know it. Just my
+luck to get forced down at a time like that!"
+
+"Maybe not so tough," Buzz answered. "A Blighty, if it doesn't cripple,
+is not so bad. Our casualties have been nearly forty per cent, from one
+cause or another."
+
+"No!" Red exclaimed in surprise.
+
+Larkin nodded, dourly. "They sure have! We've been up against von
+Herzmann's Circus most of the time, and that fellow hasn't any slouches
+on his roster. That was one of his outfit that cracked your engine."
+
+"Really? Did you get him?" Red asked, his face alight with interest.
+
+Larkin shook his head. "No luck. I ducked to follow you. But Fouche got
+him--his first that morning."
+
+"That morning? You mean he--"
+
+"Got another one, a flamer, just back of Chateau-Thierry. That boy is
+some flyer! He's an ace already."
+
+McGee's delight was genuine. "That's great! Never can tell, can you? I
+didn't think much of his work." He hesitated, wanting to inquire about
+the others but held back by that statement of Larkin's to the effect
+that casualties were above forty per cent. He feared he would ask about
+someone whose name was now enrolled in that sickening total.
+
+"What about--Yancey?" he tried.
+
+Larkin laughed. "Oh, that Texas cyclone is as wild as a range horse and
+is due to get potted any minute. In fact, he's overdue. He's a balloon
+busting fool, and no one can stop him. He has nine of them to his credit
+and every time he goes out he comes back with his plane in shreds and
+just barely holding together. You'd think it would cure him, but he eats
+shrapnel. Has two planes to his credit, but he doesn't go in for planes.
+He cuts formation exactly like you used to, Shrimp, and goes off high,
+wide and lonesome, looking for sausages. He got one just this morning,
+and I give you my word his ship looked like a sieve when he came in. The
+Major threatens to ground him if he doesn't quit cutting formation, but
+he's only bluffing. He's as proud as the rest of us."
+
+"So Cowan is all right?" Red asked.
+
+"He sure is _all right_," Larkin enthused. "He's an intolerable old
+fuss budget and hard to get along with when on the ground or out of
+action, but he's square, he's developed into a real commander, and he's
+got sand a-plenty. He's coming down to see you to-morrow--and that's
+going some for Cowan. He likes you a lot."
+
+Red colored, and to change the subject, asked, "What about Hampden?
+Didn't I see him go down just before I caught it?"
+
+"Yes. Flamer. Poor devil!"
+
+To Red's mind came the picture of Siddons, fleeing from the field of
+action a few minutes before the tragic death of the only man in the
+squadron who really called him friend. Friend, indeed!
+
+"I suppose Siddons is still on top," McGee said, somewhat bitterly. "His
+kind never get it."
+
+A troubled look spread over Larkin's face. "You know," he began slowly,
+"none of us can figure out that fellow. He didn't get back to the
+squadron that day until just at dark. The news of Hampden's death seemed
+to daze him, but he didn't say a word. Two days later he left the
+squadron, and we thought he was gone for good--grounded for keeps or
+sent home. But yesterday he turned up again, big as life. If Cowan is
+displeased, he doesn't show it. We can't figure it out."
+
+"I can!" McGee flared, then suddenly remembered that Cowan had charged
+him with absolute secrecy concerning the discoveries he had made.
+
+"Well then, what's the dope?" Larkin asked.
+
+"Oh, he's got a heavy drag somewhere," Red replied, remembering that he
+had passed his word to Major Cowan. "What about Hank Porter?" he asked,
+to shift the subject.
+
+Larkin shook his head, dismally. "Another one of Herzmann's Circus
+filled him full of lead, but he tooled his ship back home before he
+fainted from loss of blood. He's in a hospital for the rest of the war.
+May never walk again."
+
+McGee decided to do no more roll calling for the day. It was altogether
+too depressing. For a while they talked of lighter, commonplace things
+and then fell into that understanding silence that is possible only with
+those whose friendship is so firmly fixed that words add little to their
+communion.
+
+Watching the swans that moved around the central fountain in stately
+procession, McGee fell to thinking how little those lovely creatures
+knew of tragedy and sorrow. Theirs was a world secure in beauty,
+unmarred by the things which man brings upon himself, and this was true
+because they knew nothing of avarice or grasping greed. Could it be that
+man, in all his pride, was one of the least sensible of God's creatures?
+
+
+3
+
+The day following, Major Cowan called, and in his elation over the
+success of American arms at the recent battle of Chateau-Thierry, told
+McGee more in a short half hour than Red had been able to worm from all
+others with whom he talked.
+
+The Germans, Cowan told him, had been stopped at Chateau-Thierry in an
+epic stand made by the 2nd and 3rd Divisions, A.E.F., and a few days
+later the Marines had crowned themselves with a new glory when, in
+liaison with the French, they had stormed the edges of Belleau Wood,
+gained a foothold, and then tenaciously pushed slowly forward in the
+bloodiest and bitterest battle yet waged by the untried American forces.
+Counter-attack after counter-attack had been met and repulsed, with the
+net result that the Germans had been definitely stopped in the Marne
+salient. Their hope of breaking through to Paris was shattered, and
+though they were still pounding hard, their sacrifices were vain.
+
+It was, Cowan declared, the real turning point of the war, and even now
+men were joyously declaring that the war would be won by Christmas.
+
+As for the air forces, they had delivered beyond the fondest hopes of
+the high command. The casualties had been high, Cowan admitted, but not
+higher than might be expected and not without giving even heavier losses
+to the enemy. The squadron losses could have been held down had the
+members been less keen about scoring a personal victory over von
+Herzmann. Every pursuit pilot along the entire front was willing to take
+the most desperate chances in the hope of plucking the crest feathers of
+this German war eagle.
+
+"I guess there's one member not particularly anxious to pluck any of the
+eagle's feathers," McGee put in at this point.
+
+"No?" Cowan's voice was quizzical. "Who's that?"
+
+"Siddons," McGee replied tersely.
+
+A look of aggravation, or of pained tolerance, crossed Cowan's face.
+
+"We won't discuss that," he said, deserting for the moment his air of
+good-fellowship and returning to the quick, testy manner of speaking
+which was so characteristic of him in matters of decision. "I take it
+you have said nothing to Larkin, or anyone else, concerning your--ah,
+our suspicions?"
+
+"Nothing, sir. But I can't--"
+
+"Good. Let Intelligence work it out, Lieutenant. One little rumor might
+upset all their plans. I can assure you, however, that G 2 knows all
+that you know. They are waiting the right minute--and perhaps have some
+plan in mind. Silence and secrecy are their watchwords. Let them be
+yours." He arose and extended his hand. "I must be moving along. I'm
+glad to see you doing so nicely. You'll be more than welcome when you
+get back to the squadron. Don't worry. There's plenty of war left yet."
+
+
+4
+
+Perhaps there was plenty of war left, but McGee soon discovered that a
+badly broken arm and a cracked, cut head can be painfully slow in
+healing. Days dragged slowly by, with Larkin's visits as the only bright
+spot in the enforced inactivity. Then, to McGee's further distress, the
+squadron was moved to another front. Larkin had been unable to tell him
+just where they were going, but believed it was to the eastward, where
+it was rumored the Americans were to be given a purely American sector.
+
+This was unpleasant news to McGee. It meant that he would be left
+behind, and he could not drag from the hospital medicoes any guess as to
+when he would be permitted to leave the hospital.
+
+Hospital life, with its endless waiting, sapped his enthusiasm. At
+night, in the wards, the men recovering from all manner of wounds would
+try to speed the lagging hours by telling stories, singing songs, and
+inventing the wildest of rumors. Occasionally, when the lights were out,
+some wag would begin an imitation of a machine gun, with its
+rat-tat-tat-tat, and another, catching the spirit of the mimic warfare,
+would make the whistling sound of a high angle shell. In a few moments
+the ward would be a clamorous inferno of mimic battle sounds--machine
+guns popping, shells screaming toward explosion, cries of gas, and the
+simulated agonized wails of the wounded and dying.
+
+"Hit the dirt! Here comes a G.I. can."
+
+"Look out for that flying pig!"
+
+"Over the top, my buckoes, and give 'em the bayonet."
+
+Thus did men, wrecks in the path of war, keep alive their spirit and
+courage by jesting over the grimest tragedy that had ever entered their
+lives. And then they would take up rollicking marching songs, or sing
+dolefully, "I wanta go home, I wanta go home."
+
+Invariably, when some chap began a narrative of the prowess of his own
+company or regiment, the others would begin singing, tauntingly:
+
+    "The old grey mare she ain't
+      what she used to be,
+    She ain't what she used to be,
+      Ain't what she used to be.
+    The old grey mare she ain't
+      what she used to be
+    Many years ago...."
+
+It wasn't really fun, it was only the pitifully weak effort to meet
+suffering, loneliness, homesickness and fear with bravado.
+
+There is no one in all the world more lonely than a soldier in a
+hospital. Time becomes what it really is, endless, and without hope of a
+change on the morrow.
+
+And the pay for it all was a gold wound chevron to wear on the sleeve,
+or a dangling, glittering medal testifying to courage and sacrifice!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+The Ace and the Spy
+
+
+1
+
+So slow was McGee's recovery that it was the middle of September before
+he received his final discharge from the hospital and was given orders
+to rejoin his old squadron, now operating in the St. Mihiel salient.
+Three days prior to his release the American Army, operating on a purely
+American front, had attacked the Germans in the St. Mihiel salient with
+such determined vigor, and the entire preparation conducted with such
+successful secrecy, as to take the Germans by complete surprise, overrun
+all opposition and recover for France many miles of territory long held
+by the invaders. Thousands of prisoners, and arms of all calibre, were
+captured in the swift stroke, and all France was ringing with praise of
+the endeavor.
+
+News of the progress of the battle reached McGee just before his final
+discharge. He entertained high hopes of rejoining the squadron in time
+to participate in the feast of victory, but by the 15th, three days
+after the battle was begun, the salient had been pinched out and the
+battle won.
+
+On the 16th, when McGee reached Ligny-en-Barrois, which had served as
+General Pershing's field headquarters at the beginning of the operation,
+he found that his squadron had been withdrawn from the sector and sent
+somewhere else.
+
+Where? No one seemed to know. Furthermore, no one seemed to care a great
+deal. A pilot lost from his squadron, or a soldier lost from his
+regiment, was no new thing in France. It happened daily. Men were
+discharged from hospitals, ordered to a certain point to rejoin their
+commands, only to discover on reaching there that the outfit had
+seemingly vanished in thin air.
+
+McGee spent a full day trying to find someone with the correct
+information as to the location of the squadron.
+
+At last an officer on the General Staff looked over McGee's papers and
+gave him a transportation order to a little town west and south of
+Verdun.
+
+"Is my squadron there, sir?" McGee asked.
+
+"They should be," the officer replied. "At least near there," and he
+closed the conversation as though that were quite enough for any pilot
+to know.
+
+But when McGee reached the town, part of the journey being by rail and
+part by motor lorries, he found himself as completely lost as possible.
+Again no one seemed to know anything about the squadron. His search was
+made doubly difficult by the fact that there was an unusual air of
+activity; all the troops seemed to be on the move, and officers were far
+too busy with their own cares to listen to the troubles of a lost
+aviator.
+
+That night McGee watched two or three regiments pass through the town,
+fully equipped for battle. It came to him, suddenly, that all this
+activity and night marching could mean only one thing--a new attack
+along some new front. Encouraged by the success of St. Mihiel, the
+Americans were going in again. But where? McGee put the question to a
+dozen officers, and not one of them had the foggiest notion of where he
+was going.
+
+This served all the more to convince McGee that a new operation was
+being secretly planned by Great Headquarters, and from the many
+different divisional insignias which he had noticed, he felt convinced
+that it would be a major offensive. Regiment after regiment of soldiers
+marched through the little village; then came lumbering guns and
+caissons clattering over the resounding cobblestones of the street.
+Battery after battery passed by. They were followed by a long train of
+motor transports; then came some hospital units with their motor
+ambulances; then more infantrymen, singing and joking as they swung
+along in the darkness.
+
+Watching them, McGee was suddenly seized with an idea which no amount of
+logical thinking could exclude from his mind. Where these troops were
+going, there he would find action. Somewhere, between this point and
+their final stopping place, the trenches, he would find some unit of the
+air force. The army must have its eyes, and any member of any air unit
+could tell him more than he could learn here.
+
+The spirit of this new type of adventure moved him to action. He had
+often wondered about the life of the doughboy. Now, for the night, he
+would fall in and march along with them. It would be fun just to be
+going along, answerable to no one and making his way forward on foot, by
+hooked rides, or by whatever means that presented itself and seemed
+attractive.
+
+Slinging his musette bag over his shoulder, and buttoning up his flying
+coat, he stepped into the street, followed along the dark buildings for
+a few yards and then fell in alongside a long line of infantrymen.
+
+A mile beyond the edge of the town he regretted his action. Rain began
+to fall in torrents. Ponchos were quickly donned by the men and they
+again took up the splashing, sloshing line of march, grumbling a little,
+joking about "Sunny France," and complaining over the harsh order that
+forbade smoking.
+
+From that one thing McGee knew for a certainty that they were being sent
+forward under orders of the utmost secrecy. Men on the line of march
+under cover of darkness were never allowed to smoke. An enemy airman,
+should he pass over, would see a long line of twinkling fireflies. From
+that he would know there was some sort of movement, and this information
+would be speedily carried to the German High Command. So, without
+displaying any lights whatsoever, the men and motors moved ever forward
+along the muddy road.
+
+The rain ceased as suddenly as it had come. The night was warm, for
+September, and grey fog wraiths began rising from the ground. The
+sweating horses, straining at the big heavy guns at the side of the
+road, were blanketed in steam.
+
+The traffic on the pitch black road was becoming increasingly heavy, and
+now and again halts were made until someone, far ahead, succeeded in
+working out the snarl. Then the troops would move forward again.
+
+McGee no longer had any doubts concerning what was in store for these
+thousands upon thousands of men, but he was beginning to question the
+wisdom of his own move. He made no attempt to engage anyone in
+conversation, fearing that it would result in some officious commander
+ordering him to the rear.
+
+Far ahead, against the black night sky, flashes of gunfire showed now
+and then, the following thunder establishing the fact that the front was
+within three or four hours' marching time. The gunfire, however, was not
+heavy, being merely the spasmodic firing incident to such nights as
+communiques spoke of as "calm."
+
+After another hour of marching, McGee noticed that they were on the edge
+of a shattered village. Not one single wall stood intact. As he reached
+the center of this stark skeleton of a once happy village he saw that
+here the enemy had concentrated their fire. Here was a wall, standing
+gaunt and grim against the night sky; and over there, facing a little
+square, a shattered church still retained the strength to hold aloft its
+cross-capped steeple. The Cross ... in a broken, blood-red world!
+
+McGee slowed his pace, gradually, and dropped from the line of march. He
+had considered himself fully recovered, but the last hour had sapped his
+small reserve of strength. He seated himself on a pile of stone in the
+dark corner of a protecting wall and wiped his brow. What with the long,
+hot march, and the steam arising from the soaked earth, he was wringing
+wet. The experience had served to increase his respect for these
+plodding doughboys who considered this as only one more night like
+dozens of others they had experienced.
+
+Sitting there on the damp, cold stone, McGee considered his position.
+This town, battered by shell fire, would be forward of any position
+taken up by a pursuit group. To push on would be but to retrace his
+steps. It would also be folly, for he had no gas mask. Shells had
+reached this town before, and they might do so again. He was willing to
+take a chance with flying shrapnel, but deadly gas was something else
+again.
+
+He decided, therefore, to make his way to the edge of the town, find
+shelter if possible, and await the coming of dawn. Daylight, he
+reasoned, would be certain to bring him in sight of planes from some
+group, operating on this front, and if he could locate a 'drome his
+problem would be near solution.
+
+He made his way back along the lines of infantrymen, artillery,
+ambulances and wagon trains until he reached an old stone stable that
+had miraculously escaped destruction.
+
+Having no light, he groped around in the black interior, seeking a place
+where he might spread his coat for a bed. He stumbled against a ladder,
+which mounted upward into the cavernous mow of a loft. He climbed the
+creaking rungs, found footing on the dry floor, and stopped to sniff at
+the odor of the few wisps of dry, musty hay scattered thinly over the
+rough boards. He took a step forward, stumbled over a pair of legs and
+landed headfirst on the stomach of another sleeper.
+
+"Whoosh!" went the escaping breath of that truant soldier, followed by
+an angry outpouring of abuse.
+
+"Say, soldier! Get your foot out of my face! What do you think this
+is--a football game?"
+
+"Pipe down!" came a gruff voice from another corner. "Do you want some
+smart Looie to come up here and chase us out?"
+
+McGee smiled, wondering what would be their reaction should he announce
+that "a Looie" was even now in their presence. Perhaps it was his duty,
+as an officer, to rout them out and order them to rejoin their commands,
+but he felt no responsibility for these men of the line, and if they
+were as weary and sleepy as he--and doubtless they had more reason to
+be--then he could hardly blame them for falling out. With the morning,
+he knew, these army-wise soldiers would go down the road until they
+found their outfits and there pour forth a plausible lie about becoming
+lost in the tangle and how they had searched all night for their
+company.
+
+McGee knew little enough about the American infantrymen, but he did know
+that "for tricks that are vain" Bret Harte's famous heathen Chinee had
+nothing on the average soldier of the line, be he American, English,
+French or a black man from Senegal.
+
+Cautiously he felt out a clear space, spread his coat over the rough
+timbers and was soon sound asleep.
+
+
+2
+
+While McGee slept soundly, blissfully removed from all scenes of
+conflict and completely ignorant of his exact location, a midnight
+conference of gravest nature was taking place in the little settlement
+of Landres-et-St. Georges, far behind the German lines of defense.
+
+Four thick-necked, grey-haired German officers were seated at a long
+table in the front room of a chateau that had been in German hands for
+more than three years. Candles flickered uncertainly on the table,
+lighting the center of the large room but leaving the corners in dim
+shadows.
+
+The four officers sat stiffly erect, without comment, their eyes on the
+double door as though they were awaiting someone. Outside, on the stone
+flagging of a courtyard, sounded the heavy tread of a Prussian Guardsman
+walking guard before the sanctum of these "Most High" ones who sat so
+stolidly waiting.
+
+The resounding footfalls of the guardsman came to a clicking halt,
+followed by a guttural challenge which was replied to in a softer voice.
+The guardsman again took up his beat.
+
+A moment later the door to the council room opened. A smooth-faced,
+blond young man stood at stiff salute in the doorway--dressed in the
+uniform of an English officer!
+
+For a long minute he stood at salute while the four at the table eyed
+him studiously. Then the hand came down, and a quick smile spread over
+his face as he stepped forward into the brighter light of the room. He
+carried in his hand one of the swagger sticks so commonly used by
+English officers.
+
+"Well, _Herr Hauptmann_," he addressed the officer at the head of
+the table, "do you find my disguise, and my English, sufficiently
+correct?"
+
+"Correct, yes," the heavy-jowled officer replied in German, "but not
+pleasing, Count von Herzmann. _Himmel!_ How I hate the sight of the
+Englander's uniform and the sound of his thin, squeaky tongue. And I say
+to you again that this wild plan of yours is a fool's errand. I would
+forbid it, had you not gained the consent of the General Staff. I do not
+understand it. You are too valuable to the cause for the General Staff
+to permit you to take such a chance. I say again, it is a fool's
+errand."
+
+Count von Herzmann smiled reassuringly. "Fool's errand, _Herr
+Hauptmann?_" he responded in German. "Is there anything more precious
+to our cause than to learn just now where this next blow is to be
+struck? For the past ten days all of our secret operatives have sent us
+conflicting reports. The English and the French are too quiet on their
+fronts. It presages a storm. As for the Americans, we need not worry.
+They are still boasting of their victory at St. Mihiel. They will not be
+ready to strike again before late Fall--perhaps not until Spring. We
+must--"
+
+"Speak in English," interrupted one of the other officers. "Much as we
+hate it, we must see to it that it is perfect."
+
+"Right you are!" von Herzmann replied with the perfect accent of a
+well-bred Englishman. "My three years' schooling in England was not for
+nothing, sir. Accent top hole, eh, what! Rawther." He smiled at his own
+mimicry. "I was saying," he went on, "that we must discover where the
+English will strike next. Victory depends upon it."
+
+"_Ja_, _das ist richtig_" spoke up the stolid
+_Oberst-leutnant_, who had been listening without comment as his
+grey eyes, deep set under stiff, bristling eyebrows, appraised the
+confident von Herzmann. "_Ja_, we must learn where the swine strike
+next. But must it be you to take the chance? You know the cost--should
+you fail?"
+
+"Quite well, sir," von Herzmann replied, smiling. "A little party in
+front of a firing wall with myself as the center of attraction. Ah,
+well! What matter. I have about played out my string of luck in the air.
+Sooner or later, there must be an ending. I have a great fear that it
+will be the luck of some cub, fresh at the front, to bring me down. Ha!
+How he would swank around, boasting how he brought down the great von
+Herzmann. Bah! Death, _Herr Hauptmann_, I do not fear in the least,
+but I hate the thought of a cub boasting over my bones. Besides, there
+are no new adventures left for me in the air. I am a little weary of it
+all. But this--this is new adventure and--"
+
+"And deadly dangerous," reminded the cadaverous, thin-faced officer at
+the far end of the table.
+
+"If not dangerous, it is not adventure, sir," von Herzmann replied. "Do
+we not all enjoy the thing that presents some hazard? Youth lives it;
+age thrills to the reports of it. If I fail, I fail. If I succeed, the
+Fatherland is well served and I've another adventure in my kit. Perhaps
+even another bit of iron to dangle on my coat, eh? Rawther jolly
+prospect, what?" He again smiled at his own mimicry, as well he might,
+for the accent was perfect. "But I won't fail, _Herr Hauptmann_."
+He became serious as he drew some papers from the breast pocket of his
+well tailored, though well worn, English uniform coat which bore the
+marks of campaigning. "See," he said, tossing down a little black fold
+which the English issued to officers for identification, "I am
+Lieutenant Richard Larkin, R.F.C., known to his familiars as 'Buzz.'
+The picture, you will notice, is my own, placed there after we had
+carefully removed the one of the gentleman whose uniform and
+identification card I am to make use of.
+
+"This," he tossed another paper on the table, "is a pass to Paris,
+properly indorsed, and giving authority for refueling and repairing, if
+needed. Neat enough, eh? The date, unfortunately, was originally in
+April, but our Intelligence section has some very clever penmen and you
+will note that the date now appearing there is as of September the
+twenty-sixth, and the period of the pass is for five days."
+
+"The twenty-sixth!" exclaimed the _Oberst-leutnant_. "So soon! That
+is the day after to-morrow."
+
+"Yes. Our operative will cross the lines to-morrow evening, just before
+sundown, in a two-seater Nieuport. He will land just back of Montfaucon,
+and I will then re-cross the lines, will be set down back of Neuvilly
+and will then begin the great adventure. I am to be back within five
+days, or--" he shrugged his shoulder expressively.
+
+One of the officers banged his fist on the table. "It is a fool's
+errand, I repeat, a fool's errand! If this operative, with the
+Americans, is back of Neuvilly, what is he doing there? Perhaps the
+Americans are there in force, preparing to strike here."
+
+"Impossible!" the senior officer snorted. "Attack the Hindenburg Line?
+The Americans are stupid, but not so stupid as that. We know that a few
+Americans are in the sector south of Vauquois Hill. They are relieving
+the French there. And for what reason? So that the French may be moved
+up in the Champagne, east of the Meuse. That is where the blow will be
+struck. But, even so, I have not the faith in this Operative Number
+Eighty-one which the High Command seems to place in him."
+
+"He has brought us much information," one of the others reminded.
+
+"Yes, erroneous and tardy information. Not one thing have we learned
+from him but what was too late to be of value. And much of it
+inaccurate."
+
+"Not always," von Herzmann replied. "He brought correct and timely
+information concerning the movement of that new American pursuit
+squadron, you will recall. And but for the accursed luck that brought
+those French Spads upon us at the wrong time, my Circus would have
+potted half of them."
+
+"Luck!" the senior officer retorted, heatedly. "You call it luck! It was
+luck that we did not lose you and that you got your crippled plane back
+across the line. But can you be sure that those Spads came upon the
+scene, at the right moment, by chance?"
+
+Count von Herzmann shook his head. "No, _Herr Hauptmann_, in this
+war we can be sure of only one thing--death, if the war continues. It
+must be brought to a speedy close. Daily, now, we lose ground. It is
+because of this that I made the urgent request to be permitted to
+undertake this mission. But," he smiled expansively, "be not too fearful
+or alarmed. If I fail, if there be trickery in it, you shall have the
+privilege of avenging me."
+
+"How do you mean, avenge you?"
+
+"_Herr Hauptmann_, war is a world-old game, with modern
+applications. You have read, doubtless, how in the olden times hostages
+were held?"
+
+"Yes, but--"
+
+"It is not always effective, but it furnishes the crumb of revenge and
+retaliation. I am not without some fear for my safety, and because of
+that I will provide a hostage."
+
+"You talk in riddles."
+
+"Perhaps, but I give you the answer. Operative Number Eighty-one will
+come for me in a two-seater just at dark. But he will not be the one to
+take me back."
+
+"_Ach! Himmel!_"
+
+"_Das ist ziemlich gescheit!_"
+
+Count von Herzmann shrugged his shoulders at the exclamatory surprise
+and compliment. "Clever? No. Merely an old custom borrowed from old
+wars. Operative Number Eighty-one will be held at the headquarters at
+Montfaucon--pending my return. If I do not return in five days, then he
+too will hold the stage a brief minute before a firing wall. Then,
+perhaps we will meet beyond the Great Line--where there are no wars or
+rumors of wars. Is there anything else you have to take up with me now,
+_Herr Hauptmann?_"
+
+"Ach, yes! If you are successful, and return within your scheduled time,
+how will this operative, held at Montfaucon, make a satisfactory
+explanation to the Americans regarding his long absence?"
+
+Count von Herzmann snapped his fingers. "Poof! That is secondary, and a
+problem which I leave to the superior mind of _Herr Hauptmann_--and
+the High Command."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+Wheels Within Wheels
+
+
+1
+
+Near noon, the following day, a motor cycle with side car snorted to a
+sudden stop at the newly erected hangar tents of an American Pursuit
+Group, and McGee crawled stiffly from the bone-racking, muscle-twisting
+"bath tub." He thanked the mud-splashed, goggled driver, adding, by way
+of left-handed compliment, that he had been given more thrills in the
+last five kilometers than he had received in all his months in the
+Allied Air Service.
+
+He turned toward the hangar. There was but one ship on the field, a
+two-seater. By its side stood Siddons and his air mechanic. They seemed
+to be in close-headed conference.
+
+McGee clicked his teeth in a little sound of suppressed emotion, slipped
+through the hangar door and stood face to face with his own old Ack
+Emma.
+
+"For the luva Pete!" exclaimed the startled air mechanic. "When did you
+get here, Lieutenant?"
+
+McGee extended his hand in greeting. Williams grasped it, eagerly.
+
+"Well, for the luva Pete?" he repeated, lacking words in his surprise
+and pleasure. "Lieutenant Larkin! Oh, Lieutenant Larkin!" he began
+roaring. "Oh, Bill! Where's Larkin?"
+
+"Just left a minute ago," came a voice from under the hood of a new
+Spad. "Went over to his quarters to wash up. Grease from head to foot."
+
+"I'll go show you his quarters," Williams said, eagerly.
+
+"Never mind, I'll find him," McGee said. "Have to check in at
+headquarters first. I hear Cowan is still C.O."
+
+"Yes, sir. He sure is. And he's a darb, Lieutenant."
+
+"So I hear. Piling up quite a record. How many of the old gang still
+here, Williams?"
+
+"Not many. If the Hun doesn't get 'em, nerves and the smell of
+castor-oil does. Half a dozen of 'em gone flooey in the stomach.
+Couldn't eat enough to keep a bird alive and couldn't keep that down.
+It's a tough game, Lieutenant. Next war that comes yours truly is going
+to join the infantry."
+
+"Don't do it," McGee warned, as he turned away. "I've just had a little
+experience with the infantry and it's not such a bed of roses. See you
+later, Williams."
+
+"Well for the luva Pete!" Williams commented to himself, standing arms
+akimbo as he watched McGee cross over toward headquarters. "And they
+said that bird's head was busted wide open and his brains scattered all
+over France. Now there he is, big as life. I'll bet ten bucks to a lousy
+centime he lives to fall off a merry-go-round and break his neck. For
+the luva Pete!"
+
+
+2
+
+McGee's return to the squadron would have been fittingly celebrated but
+for the fact that five o'clock the following morning had been designated
+as "zero hour" for the greatest drive ever undertaken by Americans on
+foreign soil. He had arrived just in time to hurl himself into the
+feverish preparations for the support which all air units must give the
+massed ground forces that would hurl themselves upon the supposedly
+impregnable Hindenburg Line. With the coming of dawn the combat
+squadrons must gain and hold air supremacy. Nothing less than complete
+and absolute supremacy would satisfy Great Headquarters, who in planning
+the drive were high in the hope that the fresh divisions of American
+soldiers could break through the Hindenburg Line and by hammering,
+hammering, hammering at the enemy force him into peace terms before the
+coming of winter.
+
+McGee was tickled pink by his timely arrival, but it was not all a
+matter of rejoicing. For one thing, it seemed that almost the entire
+group was made up of new faces. Of those flight pilots whom he had first
+met when he came to the squadron as an instructor, only three
+remained--Yancey, Nathan Rodd and Siddons. Of course Larkin was still on
+top, and Cowan not only held his command, but had established quite a
+reputation. Yancey had earned the right to a nickname more appropriately
+fitting than "the flying fool," for he was anything but a fool and his
+mounting victories proved that he had something more than luck.
+
+Nathan Rodd, his nerve unshattered by his first unfortunate encounter
+with the enemy, was still as taciturn as ever, preferring to let his
+deeds speak for him.
+
+As for Siddons, McGee could get no information out of Larkin save that
+everyone thought that Siddons had some pull. A good flyer, yes, Larkin
+admitted, but forever cutting formation, flying off where he pleased,
+absenting himself for two or three days, and returning with the thinnest
+of excuses. But he got by, somehow, and Cowan was the only one who
+appeared friendly toward him. For the past twenty-four hours, Larkin
+told McGee, Siddons had been working on a two-seater and had made two
+test flights. No one seemed to know what was back of it, but rather
+believed Siddons was to be transferred to Observation, at least during
+the coming battle.
+
+To this information McGee made no reply, but secretly hoped that Siddons
+was in fact being transferred to Observation, where his activities would
+be more easily accounted for due to the fact that he would be carrying
+an observer.
+
+
+3
+
+Late that afternoon rain began falling, and at mess time the mess hall
+became the stage for exceptionally spirited banter and wild conjecture
+as to what would happen on the morrow. Confidential battle orders
+carried the information that artillery preparation would begin at
+midnight, continuing with great concentration until 5:30 a.m., zero
+hour, when the attacking forces of nine American divisions would storm
+over the top in the beginning of a titanic struggle to carry the famous
+Hindenburg Line and sweep the Germans back through the Argonne and
+beyond the Meuse.
+
+Every fighting unit had been given comprehensive plans of the objectives
+and of the ground over which they were to advance. The air units were
+especially drilled in the battle plans, for Great Headquarters would
+look to the Observation section and to the pursuit planes for a full
+measure of information as to how the battle went.
+
+Major Cowan's pursuit group was only one of the many ready to begin
+operations on this new front, but none could have shown more enthusiasm
+and eager expectancy than did this group of young men who wolfed down
+their evening meal and jested in a strained, light-hearted manner that
+betrayed the nerve tension under which they were laboring. To-morrow
+morning was the start of the Big Show!
+
+All the pilots were present at this meal save Siddons, who had taken off
+alone, in a two-seater, a few minutes before sundown. He had let it be
+known that he was reporting to Observation for special duty, and no one
+seemed sorry to see him go.
+
+The evening meal was scarcely finished when McGee and Larkin were forced
+to withdraw from the good-natured kidding match by a summons to report
+to Major Cowan. They obeyed, grumbling, and with heated, spirited
+contention that they were beyond doubt the most command-ridden
+lieutenants in the entire A.E.F.
+
+"He wants to spend half the night with those maps all of us have been
+getting goggle-eyed over for the last two days," Larkin complained as
+they approached Cowan's hut. "He's a map hound, if there ever was one! I
+think that bird knows every trench line, strong point, pill box and
+artillery P.C., between here and Sedan. And so do I! He's pounded it
+into my head."
+
+"I wish I knew as much," McGee quickly resigned himself. "This drive is
+all so sudden and unexpected, to me, that I hardly know where I am right
+now. I've an idea the Old Man is going to tell me I can't go along."
+
+"Don't worry, fellow," Larkin told him, pausing at the Major's door.
+"Every guy with two arms, two legs and two eyes will be along on this
+little fracas. Believe me, this is to be some show!"
+
+As they entered they noticed that Cowan stood with his back to the door,
+bending over a large map spread out on the table.
+
+"What did I tell you?" Larkin whispered to McGee. "We're in for a
+session of night map flying."
+
+McGee did not hear him. His interest was upon a sergeant and four
+privates who were seated on a bench against the wall just to the right
+of the door. He noted that they wore side arms only, and that on their
+sleeves were the blue and white brassards of the Military Police. M.P.,
+eh? Then something was up!
+
+Cowan turned from his map. "Ah, you are here. Sergeant," he addressed
+the non-com in charge of the detail, "post your detail just outside the
+door and wait. If anyone approaches with a--ah--prisoner, admit them."
+
+"Yes, sir." The detail filed out.
+
+Cowan saw the look of question on the faces of the two pilots.
+
+"You are wondering why they are here, eh? Well, they have been sent down
+from Corps Headquarters to take charge of a prisoner. We hope to hold a
+little reception here within a short time--possibly any minute now."
+
+"Who is to be honored, Major?" Larkin asked.
+
+"A rather well known gentleman," Cowan replied, tantalizingly. "Both of
+you are quite well acquainted with Lieutenant Siddons, I believe?"
+
+Larkin looked at McGee in astonishment.
+
+"No, sir," McGee replied to Cowan, "no one in this outfit knows that
+fellow very well."
+
+"Quite right," Cowan agreed. "Lieutenant Larkin, I recall that you lost
+your old R.F.C. uniform a good while back."
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"And in the pocket was your old identification fold, and certain other
+papers? An old pass to Paris, for one thing?"
+
+"Why--yes, sir. The identification card was there, but I don't recall
+what I did with that old pass."
+
+"It was there," Cowan told him, "and it grieves me to inform you that
+the uniform, and all that the pockets contained, was stolen by
+Lieutenant Siddons."
+
+"What! Are you sure?"
+
+"There is no doubt about it. Furthermore, he delivered them into the
+hands of the enemy." Larkin was too dumbfounded for words, but McGee
+displayed little surprise.
+
+"So you have at last found out what I knew all along, Major?" Red asked.
+
+"Not _at last_," Cowan replied, with meaning emphasis. "Your
+uniform, Lieutenant Larkin, will be returned to you soon--we hope."
+
+"Oh!" McGee jerked his head toward the door. "So that's the reason for
+the M.P.'s. You are going to nab him?"
+
+"Not exactly that." Cowan was enjoying the curiosity provoked by the
+suspense he was creating. "I believe both of you have heard of a certain
+German ace, Count von Herzmann?"
+
+"_Have_ we!" Larkin replied.
+
+McGee ran his fingers along a white scar still showing through the hair
+which had not yet grown out long enough to be the flaming red mop of
+old.
+
+"Seems I've heard of him," he said. "And I seem to recall that one of
+his flyers left me this little souvenir on the top of my head. I'd like
+to pay the Count back--in person."
+
+"You'll never get the chance!" Cowan replied. "But if all our plans work
+out, you will meet him in person soon--in this very room!"
+
+"What!" It was a duet of surprise.
+
+"Yes, here. Count von Herzmann in person--and in Lieutenant Larkin's
+long lost uniform."
+
+Both McGee and Larkin sank weakly into two convenient chairs, the
+expression on their faces disclosing that they were trying to select the
+proper order of the first of a thousand questions.
+
+"Well--what's that to do with--with Siddons?" McGee at last found
+stammering tongue. "Where does he come in?"
+
+"He comes in a few minutes after the Count. He will land the Count in a
+field near here, let him alight, and then take off again and proceed to
+this 'drome. The Count, left alone, will doubtless make his way into the
+woods bordering the field, where he will promptly be nabbed. That little
+drama should be taking place now. For your information, the credit for
+this coup goes to Lieutenant Siddons."
+
+McGee and Larkin stared at each other, scarce believing their ears.
+
+"Well what do you know about that!" McGee's half audible remark was the
+trite expression so commonly used by those who are staggered by a sudden
+revelation.
+
+"I know _all_ about it," Cowan said, actually laughing--the first
+time either of the others had ever heard him even so much as chuckle. "I
+know all about it, and I've called you here for two reasons: I think
+you, McGee, are entitled to see the next to the last act in this
+little--ah--tragedy, I suppose it should be called; and I want Larkin to
+be present when his uniform reappears. I might need him for purposes of
+identification."
+
+"But--"
+
+Cowan lifted a protesting hand. "Don't ask questions. Better let me tell
+it. The story will have to be brief, and a bit sketchy, for time flies.
+The things you don't know about all this would fill a book. Perhaps I
+had better start at the beginning:
+
+"In 1914, when the war first broke out, the man you know as Siddons was
+living in Germany, with his father and mother, and was in his second
+year in a Berlin university. He was born in America, of German-American
+parents. For your information, his right name is Schwarz, not Siddons."
+
+"I always thought he looked like a German," McGee said.
+
+Cowan merely nodded. "Naturally, he does. His father, who had come to
+America in his youth to escape four years military service with the
+colors, developed into an exceedingly shrewd business man and had been
+sent back to Germany as the Berlin representative of one of our large
+exporters. Though he had become an American citizen, he was, quite
+naturally, genuinely sympathetic with Germany as against England and
+France. But when it began to be almost a certainty that America would be
+drawn into the war, the Schwarz family held a family conference and the
+old man declared himself as being loyal to America, his adopted country,
+if war actually came.
+
+"During the months of strained relationship between our country and
+Germany, the Schwarz family had to keep their mouths shut and saw wood.
+Then, suddenly, America declared war. Many Americans, and
+German-Americans, were caught in Germany. This was the case of the
+Schwarz family. The old gentleman was arrested, in fact, and the
+military authorities claimed that since he had never served with the
+colors he was subject to their orders.
+
+"Then young Schwarz--the man you know as Siddons--saw a chance to
+relieve the pressure and at the same time serve America in a most
+unusual way, a way not possible with one man in a million."
+
+"Serve America? You mean Germany?" Larkin interjected.
+
+"I said America," Cowan replied testily. He did not like to be
+interrupted. "You'd better let me tell it my way. As I was saying,
+Siddons, claiming to be in complete sympathy with the German cause,
+offered his services to them as a secret agent, unfolding a plan which
+they, in their alarm and need, swallowed--hook, line and sinker.
+
+"The plan was this: He proposed that he be given instruction in secret
+service work and then be returned to America, where he would pose as a
+loyal American, get in the army, and serve as an under cover man for
+Germany. They fell for it like a ton of brick, following the stupid
+reasoning that because of his German blood he must by nature be truly
+German. It may sound funny to you, but they preach that very thing, and
+they truly believe it.
+
+"Well, certainly young Schwarz was cast perfectly for the role. He was
+widely travelled, spoke German fluently, and his English was flawless.
+They were quick to see the advantages. His proposition was accepted. He
+was given a brief schooling in their spy system, and then, for show, he
+was ordered out of Germany--under the fictitious name of Siddons.
+
+"The rest was easy. We had a very poor spy system at the beginning of
+the war. There was no such branch of service as we now call G 2. But it
+was forming, and to them Schwarz made his way, unfolded his plan, and
+after a careful checking up on his story they decided to take a chance.
+A spy within a spy! Wheels within wheels! It was a great idea. Do you
+see it?"
+
+His two auditors made no sign other than a staring, amazed look.
+
+"G 2 was at first suspicious," Cowan went on, "but he gave them so much
+information concerning actual conditions in Germany that they could no
+longer doubt him. They sent him to an aviation training school, telling
+him to guard his neck at all times and not run any undue risks.
+
+"You know the rest--or most of it. He has been invaluable to us, and
+to-night he will pull his greatest job. And since I have made free to
+tell you all this, you may be certain it is his last trip across the
+lines. He reports that the German High Command is getting a bit
+suspicious, and he dare not trust his luck much further."
+
+McGee, who had been listening with intense interest, exhaled audibly as
+Cowan finished his narration. "Well!" he exclaimed. "I'll never jump to
+conclusions again. Now I know why that fellow has always acted like he
+was answerable to no one but himself. And I thought him yellow! And next
+I thought he was a spy. Well, I was right about that--but the wrong way
+around. I take my hat off to him! It takes nerve to fill his job."
+
+"It does indeed!" Cowan agreed fervently. "Perhaps you recall how I
+bawled him out for cutting formation over Vitry that day when we were on
+our way up for our first action? And how I sent him over the lines on a
+mission to locate von Herzmann's Circus?"
+
+McGee nodded. "I certainly do remember it. You sure said plenty!"
+
+"Hokum! All hokum!" Cowan said. "Actually, he was going over on a
+daylight mission of an entirely different nature, and what I said in
+your presence was merely to mislead you. Unfortunately, you happened to
+see him running the Archie fire and saw the signals which he had used
+again and again in crossing over. When you reported to me, we feared the
+cat was out of the bag. There seemed to be only one way out--to pledge
+you to secrecy and lead you to believe that we were simply waiting for
+the proper time to bag him. I knew you would keep your word, and that is
+another reason why you are here--as a sort of reward. You are the only
+one who has ever had any such suspicions."
+
+Larkin laughed, mirthlessly. "That makes a lot of chuckle-heads out of
+the rest of us, doesn't it?"
+
+"Oh, I wouldn't say that, Lieutenant. But you did make life rather hard
+for Siddons. He was afraid to form close friendships. Poor Hampden was
+the only one he was ever very close to, and Hampden was as ignorant of
+the facts as any of you. Siddons had to be careful. He knows that the
+Germans also have spies. Should they get proof of his duplicity, he
+would be a doomed man."
+
+"Well," McGee sighed again, "he can have my share of that kind of
+service. I prefer to meet mine without any blindfold over my eyes. I'll
+make my apologies to him, and admit to his face that he has more nerve
+than most men I know. But there is one thing I can't get through my
+head, Major. How could he keep fooling them if he never took them any
+information?"
+
+"He did take them information. But it was always so cleverly false--just
+near enough the truth that he could hardly be blamed for not having it
+more accurate--or else it was the real truth but too late to be of any
+value to them. You can be sure we gained by his work."
+
+"One more question from me, Major," Larkin spoke up. "What makes you so
+sure that Count von Herzmann--"
+
+The door was thrown open by a helmeted, muddy doughboy sergeant from the
+lines. Then into the room, followed by the mud-spattered doughboy and
+the M.P. detail, walked a smiling, confident, blond young man, attired
+in the uniform of a member of the British Air Forces.
+
+The suddenness and surprise of the movement started the ends of Cowan's
+moustache to twitching.
+
+"Sir," spoke up the muddy infantryman, "here's that bozo we all been
+lookin' for."
+
+Major Cowan arose. "Count von Herzmann, I believe?" he said as calmly as
+though it were a social meeting.
+
+The prisoner lifted his eyebrows in well feigned surprise. "There is
+some dreadful mistake here, Major," he said with a calm assurance as he
+took from his pocket a small identification fold, bound in black
+leather. "I am--"
+
+"Just a moment," the Major interrupted. "Permit me first to introduce
+one of these gentlemen. Count von Herzmann, this is Lieutenant Richard
+Larkin, whose uniform you are now wearing and whose identification card
+you hold in your hand. I am sure you are glad to meet him."
+
+For the briefest moment von Herzmann's mouth dropped open. He knew the
+jig was up! Almost immediately, however, he regained the debonair, easy
+grace of a splendidly poised loser. He bowed to Larkin, who stood with
+mouth agape and eyes popping out.
+
+"I am indebted to Lieutenant Larkin for the use of his uniform," von
+Herzmann said. "I regret that it will probably be returned to him with
+bullet holes in it. Oh, well--such is war, eh? Perhaps he can find some
+satisfaction in keeping it as a souvenir. He can point to the holes and
+say, 'Count von Herzmann, the German ace and spy, was just behind these
+holes.'"
+
+Every man in the room felt awed and a trifle uneasy. Here was a man
+whose cool courage they could envy. Not every man can face death with so
+grim a jest.
+
+"However," von Herzmann turned to Cowan, "it gives me pleasure to report
+that I foresaw the possibility of this very thing and so arranged
+matters that a certain Mr. Schwarz, whom you call Siddons, will be shot
+five days from now."
+
+"What!" Cowan stormed. He wheeled to the sergeant. "Sergeant, where did
+this man--"
+
+"The sergeant doesn't know," von Herzmann put in. "He is the third man
+in whose charge I have been placed. Perhaps you had better let me tell
+you, Major. Your planes are quite wretched and inferior, sir, and when
+the engine of the one I was making use of died suddenly, we were forced
+to land quickly and take what the Fates had in store. We struck an old
+shell hole, turned over, and my pilot was killed, poor fellow! Too bad
+it wasn't the other way round. He wore his own uniform, and could hardly
+have been shot as a spy."
+
+Cowan sank into a chair, rather heavily. His poise was no match for von
+Herzmann's, who seemed to be getting a keen delight out of the Major's
+discomfiture.
+
+"I was not at the controls," von Herzmann continued, "but the engine
+sputtered as though it were out of fuel."
+
+Major Cowan nodded his head sadly. "It was. Poor Siddons was right," he
+mused, seemingly unconscious for the moment of the presence of the
+others.
+
+"Only half right," von Herzmann corrected, smiling.
+
+"No," Cowan replied with spirit, "_all_ right. He feared you might
+become suspicious and double-cross him, and with that in mind he put
+just enough gas in the tank to carry the plane there and part way back.
+He made rather careful tests. But he installed another tank, with a feed
+line that he could cut in--_in case he were flying the plane_. If
+not--well, you see what happened."
+
+Count von Herzmann merely shrugged his shoulders at this piece of news
+which must have been irritating in the extreme. "Ah, well," he said
+easily, "one cannot think of everything. In our haste to get away,
+neither I nor my pilot thought of that possibility. Very clever fellow,
+this man Schwarz. We both made good guesses, and we both lose. Kismet!
+We both serve our country, and we both get shot. So be it. Wars are very
+old, Major; death quite as common as life; and the old Hebraic law still
+operative--'an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth!' In this case, an
+ace for an ace and a spy for a spy. Even up, and the war rolls on. I
+wonder, Major, just when it will close?"
+
+Seemingly, as in answer to his question, from toward the front came the
+sudden roaring of thousands of guns. Doors rattled, the ground quivered,
+and through the window the sky was alight with a pulsating red-white
+glare.
+
+For a few minutes every man in the room stood listening.
+
+"What is--that?" Count von Herzmann asked at last.
+
+"The beginning of the end," Cowan answered. "You wondered when it would
+come. Soon now. Nearly five thousand heavy calibre guns are blowing your
+trenches to bits, and will continue until we go over in the morning."
+
+"So?" The German's face was a picture of pained surprise. "So the attack
+comes here? Gott! Had I known--had _we_ known." He paused,
+obviously pained, then again resumed his jesting poise. "You can be
+sure, Major, that I regret I am not on the receiving end of your
+artillery preparation and that I shall be unable to meet your squadron
+with my Circus to-morrow morning over the lines."
+
+"I dare say," was Cowan's reply as he turned to the sergeant in charge
+of the Military Police detail. "Sergeant, take charge of the prisoner
+and deliver him to First Corps Headquarters. And make sure that he does
+not escape."
+
+The sergeant saluted, grinning expansively.
+
+"He's got a fat chance to get away from _me_, sir," he said. "I'm
+the spy bustin'est baby in this man's army."
+
+"You will treat him with courtesy," Cowan ordered. "He is a brave man."
+
+"Yes, sir," the sergeant replied. "So was Nathan Hale, sir--but he got
+shot just the same."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+The Last of the Big Shows
+
+
+1
+
+The following morning had no dawning. A light rain had fallen during the
+night and a heavy, obliterating fog arose from the wet earth, blanketing
+hill and valley alike. So dense was it that troops in the front lines,
+peeping over the top in anxious nervousness as they awaited the zero
+hour, saw nothing but a wall of white that made the shell-tortured land
+before them more mysterious than any dream of battle ever fancied.
+
+What did it hold? Where were the German lines? And just what had been
+the effect of this five hour tornado of screaming shells?
+
+Machine guns, under cover of the fog, were boldly mounted on the trench
+parapets. They danced and chattered on their tripods as they pounded
+forth streams of lead upon the unseen enemy positions.
+
+Zero hour at last! Along the line officers blew shrill whistles, or
+some, calmer than the others, gave the signal with a confidently
+shouted, "Let's go!"
+
+Over the trench tops poured thousands of khaki clad warriors, sallying
+forth in the most resolute endeavor ever attempted by American troops.
+
+They had not advanced ten feet from the trenches before the fog
+swallowed them, magically, and many were never to retrace their steps.
+The big show they had so long waited for was here with an ear-splitting,
+nerve-racking tempest of thundering guns. The Big Parade!
+
+
+2
+
+At any other time the air forces would have stayed safely at home, not
+daring to take wing on such a day when the ceiling was scarcely higher
+than a man's head. But now they must go out, at any cost, blindly flying
+and vainly seeking some view of the advancing troops. But they went out
+singly, for to attempt formation flight on such a morning would be to
+court disaster and death.
+
+McGee and Larkin were the first of the squadron to take off for the
+front, the interval between their time of departure being sufficient to
+avoid any meeting as they climbed.
+
+The fog bank was much thicker than McGee had anticipated. At a hundred
+feet he could not see a thing above, below, or on either side. He headed
+his new ship, a swift Spad, in the direction of Vauquois Hill, intending
+to cross the line there and hoping that the crest of the hill might loom
+up out of the fog.
+
+Vain hope. It was impossible to see a thing. Any minute he might go
+plowing into some hillside or foul his landing gear in the tops of
+trees. It was eerie business, this flying by instinct and facing the
+dreaded possibility of coming a cropper.
+
+Several times he cut his motor, and at such times could hear the din of
+battle below--and it was not any too _far_ below, either.
+
+Added to the fear of crashing was the thought that any second he might
+cross the path of a high angle shell which had been directed at some
+enemy strong point. It was not a pleasant thought, but he could not
+shake it off. Certainly the air was full of them, and if he was to get
+any information as to the progress of the battle he must keep low and
+accept all hazards. Then too, there was the chance that he might meet up
+with some other plane drilling through the fog.
+
+"Well," he thought aloud, "I'm a poor prune if I lose my nerve now. I
+expressed my opinion of Siddons--and gee! how he'd like to be facing no
+more than this."
+
+It was a depressing, angering thought. Five days, von Herzmann had said.
+Then Siddons would face a firing squad. In the meantime, there was no
+human agency, on the Allied side of the line, that could stop the
+inexorable march of time and the certain death which this man must meet.
+
+It was this latter fact, the feeling of helpless impotency, that fired
+McGee's brain with reckless daring and sent him boring through the fog
+like an angry hornet.
+
+He soon found that this was of no avail and at last, seeking something
+that might be of value, he climbed out of the earth-blanketing fog into
+the clear sunlight, encountering clear blue sky at some fifteen hundred
+feet.
+
+Below him, now, was a billowing sea of fog banks, tinted by the sun
+which had climbed about it. A short distance ahead he sighted an enemy
+tri-plane Fokker, but before he could give chase it had dived into the
+fog.
+
+Over to the right, in what he thought must be the general direction of
+Montfaucon, he saw a single seater Nieuport cruising around.
+
+He headed for it, and soon identified it as Yancey's plane. The wild
+Texan was sitting above the fog, patiently waiting (as a cat waits for a
+mouse) for some observation sausage to come nosing out of the fog. Tex
+knew that the sun would eventually burn up the fog. The enemy, also
+knowing this, would be sending up their sausages so as to have them in
+position when the fog passed. Certainly the enemy had reason to see all
+that could be seen, for by this time they must be hard pressed indeed.
+
+Directly in McGee's path, about half way between his plane and Yancey's,
+a black, formless bulk loomed out of the fog. A sausage!
+
+McGee drove hard for it, and noted that he was in a race with Yancey,
+whose quick eye had sighted it.
+
+The black bag was hardly out of the fog bank when tracers from McGee's
+and Yancey's guns began streaming into it. It exploded with amazing
+suddenness, the flaming cloth sinking back into enveloping billows of
+fog.
+
+Yancey banked sharply, flew alongside McGee and shook his fist as though
+to say--"Go and find a rat hole of your own. This is my territory."
+
+McGee chuckled. The Texan, instead of trying to catch some view of the
+far flung battle lines, was out to increase his score.
+
+McGee dived back down into the fog, hoping that it might be lifting.
+Down below, he knew, a mighty struggle was on. Lines of communication
+would be shot all to pieces in the rain of heavy shells. Great
+Headquarters would be waiting anxiously for some news of the real status
+and progress of the battle.
+
+At 8:30 the fog was still holding over the field and McGee reluctantly
+turned his ship homeward.
+
+By that sixth sense which the seasoned pilot has, or develops, he found
+the field. No one had been able to catch sight of the ground forces.
+
+Cowan was storming around, under pressure from headquarters.
+
+"It's information we want," he told the pilots as they came in, "not a
+tale of what can't be done. Get back over the lines. This fog will pass.
+This is not a job for an hour. Headquarters wants information. Get it!"
+
+To McGee, he said, with something of a sting in his voice, "Considering
+the chances Siddons used to take, I'd think this squadron--his own
+group--would be equal to this task."
+
+It was a lash. Furious, yet realizing the justice of the taunt, McGee
+again took off, determined not to come back until he could bring some
+real news of the battle's progress.
+
+
+3
+
+That was the longest, hardest day ever put in by American aviators. They
+had little trouble in gaining and holding air supremacy, but they had a
+most difficult time, when the fog finally lifted, in getting any
+accurate information.
+
+The advance had been so rapid, and so successful, that the Hindenburg
+Line had been carried by the soldiers in the first few hours of battle.
+But in pressing forward, in the fog, they had been unable to keep in
+close liaison. Instead of being a well-knit whole, they were little more
+than a storming, victory-drunk mob. They stopped at nothing--and nothing
+could stop them. As for displaying their white muslin panels to
+airplanes so that their positions might be known--poof! They were too
+busy to fool around with panels and those dizzy air birds who never did
+anything but fly around and look for panels. Panels be hanged! This was
+a day for doughboys and the bayonet!
+
+
+4
+
+That night, after mess, the members of the squadron sat around in glum
+silence. The success of the day, with reference to gains, was great
+indeed, but Cowan was riding with whip and spur. He seemed not at all
+pleased with the work of his own group. Added to this, word had gone
+around of the dramatic happenings of the previous night, with the result
+that Siddons, the most disliked man in the squadron, had suddenly become
+their mourned hero. Even now they counted him as dead, for one precious
+day had already slipped away and nothing in the world could save him.
+The success of the day seemed as nothing by the side of this tragic
+fact. Not the least distressing thought was the fact that they had
+treated him as one who had never earned the right to a full fellowship
+with them. And now they knew, too late, that he was a man of surpassing
+courage. They even learned, from Cowan, how Siddons, working with the
+French, had plotted trapping von Herzmann that day when the squadron was
+attacked for the first time. The lucky arrival of the French Spads, they
+now knew, was not a matter of luck at all, but a daring plan to
+overwhelm the greedy German war eagle and rid the air of him. Yes,
+Siddons had courage and brains. There was no longer any doubt of that.
+
+Yancey voiced the thoughts of every man present when he said: "It
+wouldn't be so tough if he could get it in the air. But this way--at a
+wall--is tough."
+
+"What about von Herzmann?" Fouche asked. "I guess it was tough for him,
+too."
+
+Yancey grinned and scratched his head. "You know," he drawled, "down in
+my home state, we sometimes make a mistake and slap a brand on a calf
+that's not really ours. Well, that's not so awful. But when somebody
+else makes the same mistake, it's stealin'--pure and simple. War's a lot
+like that. We only see one side of it, and for my part, I'm fed up with
+seein' that side. Boy, I hone for Texas."
+
+
+5
+
+McGee and Larkin, as flight leaders, had been called to Major Cowan's
+headquarters for the usual evening conference. The Major declared
+himself as displeased with the work of the day, but both of the young
+pilots, experienced in the ways of the army, realized that Cowan's
+displeasure was but a reaction from pressure being put on him by the
+"higher ups." The General Staff, they knew, must be gratified with the
+success of the day, for all objectives had been taken and the enemy
+sorely pressed. It was true, however, that communication had been far
+from perfect. Liaison had broken down, and the ground gained, therefore,
+was the result of the grim determination of the soldier of the line to
+end the thing speedily rather than to a perfect coordination of all
+arms.
+
+"But, Major," McGee was defending the work of the squadron by pointing
+out the unusual and unforeseen obstacles, "we couldn't see our wing tips
+until after nine o'clock, and when we could see, those doughboys
+wouldn't display their panels. They acted like they thought we would
+drop bombs on them. It's hard, Major, to get men to show white panels
+when they are under fire. They are afraid that the enemy will see them,
+too, and blow them off the face of the earth. It is always a hard
+problem."
+
+"All battle problems are hard," Cowan replied. "The commanders of the
+troops in the line are being ridden just as we are. The General Staff
+feels that victory is in sight. They will accept nothing but the best of
+work, and we must do our full share."
+
+"Yes, sir, of course. But I think the troops are to be congratulated for
+their success, and certainly this outfit was lucky in that we didn't
+hang any planes on the top of Vauquois or in the woods. Four balloons
+and three E.A. is not such a bad record for a day like this. We held
+complete supremacy."
+
+"Congratulations will be in order after a complete success, Lieutenant.
+Now for to-morrow--here, see this map." Larkin winked shrewdly as Cowan
+led them over to a detailed wall map. "The lines of departure are here.
+Our most advanced positions, now, as near as we can tell, are well
+beyond the Hindenburg Line, with the Hagen Stellung line of defense
+facing our troops to-morrow. Montfaucon, the enemy's strongest point,
+and for months headquarters for the Crown Prince, blocks the way for the
+5th Corps. It is a commanding and strong position. No one knows just how
+strong it is."
+
+"Pardon me," a voice came from directly behind them, "but I know a great
+deal about its strength."
+
+So interested had they been, that they had not heard anyone enter. At
+sound of the voice they wheeled around. There stood Siddons, mud from
+head to foot but smiling expansively.
+
+"Siddons!" Cowan exclaimed. "You?"
+
+"Yes, sir--fortunately."
+
+All three of the startled men rushed forward to wring his hand. There
+was a hubbub of excited talk and exclamations of surprise, with no
+chance for the mind to put forth logical questions. Cowan was the first
+to gain some degree of composure.
+
+"Heavens, man! How did you get here?"
+
+"Crawled, walked and ran, and the last few miles in a side car," Siddons
+replied. "Last night, at midnight, I was being held at Montfaucon under
+the trumped up pretext that a staff officer was on his way down to see
+me and that I was to take off with von Herzmann later in the night. But
+I knew that von Herzmann had taken off with another pilot, and I knew
+that the jig was up. They weren't accusing me of anything--as yet--but
+they were very quiet and their manner told me all I needed to know.
+Then, bing! the barrage opened up. It was some surprise. They hadn't the
+foggiest notion that a blow was to be struck here. Almost the first pop
+out of the box that long range railway rifle at Neuvilly dropped one of
+those big G.I. cans just outside of headquarters. There was a grand
+scramble for the deep dugouts. You never saw so many High Ones streaking
+it for safety.
+
+"I made tracks too, but I missed the dugout door--by design! Pretty soon
+another big shell came along and flopped down near the same place, but
+by that time I was a long ways from there and going strong.
+
+"The night was as dark as the inside of a whale, but the glare of light
+from the guns on our side gave me direction. The rest was comparatively
+easy."
+
+"Easy!" Cowan exclaimed. "How in the world did you get across the line?"
+
+"Major, the confusion was so great, due to that barrage, that I could
+have led an elephant up to the line with no one taking the time to
+challenge me. You forget that my German is quite good. On a dark night,
+well covered by a German officer's coat, which I borrowed from a chap
+who won't ever need it again, it was not a difficult feat. Believe me,
+my biggest worry was that I would get sent west by one of our own
+shells. When I reached the front line I crawled in a funk hole and
+waited for dawning and for our own troops to come along. And when they
+started, man! how they came! The enemy is completely disorganized,
+Major, and victory will be ours within a month or six weeks. Maybe
+sooner. The Germans know it. Montfaucon will fall to-morrow. This is the
+last of the big shows."
+
+He paused, and his eyes, which McGee had always thought so cold,
+twinkled with merriment.
+
+"By the way," he said, "at Division Headquarters of the 79th, where I
+made a report and was given transportation back here, the Intelligence
+Officer told me a spy was nabbed last night--a chap by the name of von
+Herzmann. Plane forced down, the officer told me. I wonder if it could
+be possible that he ran out of gas?"
+
+"Yes," Cowan replied, catching the spirit of the banter, "he ran out of
+gas."
+
+"Tut! tut!" Siddons mockingly reproved. "Wasn't that a careless thing
+for a great ace to do?"
+
+THE END
+
+
+
+
+GLOSSARY
+
+
+Ace                 One who has brought down five enemy air craft.
+
+Ack Emma            Air Mechanic. In military service
+                    certain letters are given distinguishing
+                    sounds, such as, A is Ack, D is Don, M,
+                    to distinguish it from N, becomes Emma.
+
+Aileron             Moveable segments of planes, which,
+                    though of small surface, control the
+                    lateral balance.
+
+Albatross           German combat plane.
+
+Archie              Anti-aircraft artillery fire. Probably
+                    so called because of arc of the
+                    projectile's flight.
+
+Backwash            The wind wash caused by the propeller.
+
+Barrel roll         A wing over acrobatic manoeuvre.
+
+Black roses         Puffs of black smoke appearing suddenly
+                    as shell explodes high in the air.
+
+Blighty             English slang for a wound. Generally
+                    applied to a wound serious enough to
+                    cause removal to England.
+
+Blipped his motor   Raced; rapid advancement of throttle.
+
+Blotto              To become unconscious.
+
+Brass hat           A General Officer, commonly used by
+                    British soldiers.
+
+Bucked              Encouraged, made confident.
+
+Caisson             An ammunition wagon for mobile artillery.
+
+Caudron             Early type of French plane. Slow and
+                    poor climber. Later used for instruction
+                    ship because of high factors of safety.
+
+Ceiling             Sometimes designates highest point to
+                    which a certain ship will climb; again,
+                    the altitude of cloud banks or fog
+                    stratas obscuring ground vision.
+
+Circus              Name applied to certain large air groups
+                    of the German army.
+
+C.O.                Commanding Officer. Applied to any who
+                    command a unit.
+
+Contour chasing     To fly low, following the contour of the
+                    ground and zooming over natural and
+                    artificial obstacles.
+
+Crate               Derisively applied to any old, or badly
+                    worn plane, or to ship types not liked
+                    by the pilots.
+
+Dawn patrols        Patrols going out for combat at dawn.
+
+Dog-fighting        Wherein a number of planes engage in a
+                    free-for-all fight. Generally develops
+                    into an every-man-for-himself fight.
+
+'Drome              Applied loosely to both hangars and
+                    landing fields. An air base.
+
+E.A.                Enemy Aircraft.
+
+Elephants           Semi-circular huts of steel, capable of
+                    being moved. So called, probably,
+                    because of color, and size.
+
+Ferry pilot         A pilot used to fly ships from aviation
+                    pool or supply base up to active
+                    squadrons.
+
+_Finis la guerre_   End of the war.
+
+Flying pig          A large projectile from a type of mortar
+                    used by the Germans. Could be seen in
+                    flight and because of appearance and
+                    size were nicknamed "flying pigs."
+
+Fokker              German plane. Very fast, good climber.
+
+G.H.Q.              Great Headquarters.
+
+G 2                 Intelligence Department of Great
+                    Headquarters. Great Headquarters was
+                    divided into several groups, designated,
+                    for convenience, by lettered numerals,
+                    such as G 1, G 2 and G 3, etc.
+
+G.I. cans           A large shell. Because of size and usual
+                    coat of grey paint, soldiers declared
+                    they resembled the galvanized iron cans
+                    used for garbage. Hence, G.I. Can.
+
+G.O.                General Order.
+
+Hedge hopping       Another name for contour chasing. Flying
+                    dangerously low and zooming over
+                    obstacles.
+
+High-tail           A plane, when at highest speed possible
+                    straight ahead, carries its tail high.
+                    To high-tail means to go at highest rate
+                    of speed.
+
+Immelmann           A sudden turn, reversing the direction.
+                    First used by a German aviator,
+                    Immelmann, and later used by all air
+                    pilots.
+
+Intelligence        That section of Great Headquarters
+                    devoted to the handling of all spies and
+                    the collection of information concerning
+                    the enemy. The activities of the
+                    department are too great to be outlined
+                    in a brief definition.
+
+Liaison             Contact, communication with. When
+                    several units are operating in unison,
+                    each dependent upon the other, the
+                    contact and coordination is called
+                    liaison--a French word.
+
+Limey               Nickname for a British soldier.
+
+Looie               A Lieutenant.
+
+Observation balloon A captive balloon, of sausage shape,
+                    carrying an observer whose duty it is to
+                    spot artillery fire, etc. The balloon is
+                    paid out on a cable attached to a winch.
+                    Such balloons are always given
+                    protecting ground batteries to ward off
+                    enemy planes.
+
+Observation bus     Generally a two seated plane, carrying
+                    pilot and observer. Slower than pursuit
+                    planes, but more heavily armed.
+
+O.D.                Olive drab; color of uniform.
+
+Old Man             Captain, Major or Colonel. Usually
+                    applied to commander of the Units.
+
+Panels              White muslin, cut into various shapes,
+                    to designate positions of various
+                    headquarters, such as Regiment, Brigade,
+                    etc. When spread on the ground, pilots
+                    could see them and report positions. It
+                    was extremely difficult to get ground
+                    units to display them, since enemy
+                    planes, seeing them, could give location
+                    to their artillery.
+
+P.C.                Post of Command. Applied to any
+                    headquarters company on up.
+
+_Poilu_             French private soldier.
+
+Prop                Propeller.
+
+Pursuit pilot       Pilot of combat plane.
+
+Put the wind up     To frighten; to cause to lose courage or
+                    morale.
+
+Revving             To accelerate motor rapidly.
+
+Ring sights         Type of sight designed to make it
+                    possible to get on a rapidly moving
+                    target. Much time was spent in training
+                    pilots in gunnery and proper
+                    understanding of ring sights.
+
+R.F.C.              British Royal Flying Corps.
+
+Saw bones           Army surgeon.
+
+Sent west,
+Going west          To be killed, to die.
+
+Side slipping       To slip off the wing.
+
+Solo                First flight student pilot makes alone.
+
+Spandau             German machine guns used on combat
+                    planes. Twin guns, frequently, with
+                    single control.
+
+Stall               To climb so rapidly as to stall the
+                    motor, putting upon it a load heavier
+                    than it can continue to pull. If care is
+                    not taken to ease off, plane will go
+                    into a spin.
+
+Tarmac              The line of departure on the field.
+                    Often applied to the entire field.
+
+Toot sweet          _Tout de suite_--French phrase, adopted
+                    by Americans. Quickly, hurry up, at once.
+
+Tri-plane           German planes, especially Fokker, had
+                    short fin-like projections under the
+                    usual planes, and while quite short, and
+                    not a true plane, gave the ship the name
+                    of tri-plane. Were quite fast, good
+                    climbers, and manoeuvred easily.
+
+Upstairs            Generally applied to high altitude
+                    flights. Sometimes applied to any
+                    flight, regardless of altitude.
+
+Very light pistol   A type of pistol used to fire a shell
+                    somewhat larger than a 12 gauge shotgun
+                    shell, and which contained luminous star
+                    signals, such as red stars, green stars,
+                    white stars, etc. The meaning of the
+                    signal depended upon the color and
+                    number of these floating stars.
+
+Wash-out            To destroy, or badly damage a plane.
+                    Variously applied. Sometimes applied to
+                    planes obsoleted by the air service.
+
+White roses         Allied anti-aircraft artillery used
+                    high-explosive, which showed white on
+                    bursting. Germans used black powder,
+                    which showed black.
+
+Wind sock           A conical strip of cloth on a staff atop
+                    the hangars to give pilots wind
+                    direction.
+
+Wipers              Nickname soldiers gave to Belgian town
+                    of Ypres.
+
+Yaw off             To slip off desired direction due to
+                    lack of speed or wind resistance.
+
+Zoom                To pull the nose up sharply and climb at
+                    an angle too great to be long sustained.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+        
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-- 
2.45.2


From 918909c1fa46a390f286325671c891992e56dca2 Mon Sep 17 00:00:00 2001
From: Trianta <56975502+Trimutex@users.noreply.github.com>
Date: Thu, 7 Dec 2023 21:36:51 -0600
Subject: [PATCH 2/2] Added checking arguments and a help message

---
 src/generator.cpp | 40 ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
 src/generator.hpp | 19 ++++++++++++++++---
 src/main.cpp      |  4 ++++
 3 files changed, 60 insertions(+), 3 deletions(-)

diff --git a/src/generator.cpp b/src/generator.cpp
index e69de29..3f32cdb 100644
--- a/src/generator.cpp
+++ b/src/generator.cpp
@@ -0,0 +1,40 @@
+#include "generator.hpp"
+#include <iostream>
+
+void Generator::SetArguments(int argc, char* argv[]) {
+    std::string tempStr;
+    for (int i = 1; i < argc; ++i) {
+        tempStr.assign(argv[i]);
+        if (tempStr == "-i") {
+            setup.isFileSet = true;
+            ++i;
+            setup.filename.assign(argv[i]);
+        }
+        if (tempStr == "-k") {
+            setup.isPrefixSet = true;
+            ++i;
+            setup.prefixLength = std::stoi(argv[i]);
+        }
+        if (tempStr == "-n") {
+            setup.isOutputSet = true;
+            ++i;
+            setup.outputLength = std::stoi(argv[i]);
+        }
+        if (tempStr == "-h") {
+            PrintUsage();
+            exit(0);
+        }
+    }
+    if (!setup.isFileSet) { std::cerr << "[Setup - Error] Filename not specified" << std::endl; }
+    if (!setup.prefixLength) { std::cerr << "[Setup - Error] Prefix length not specified" << std::endl; }
+    if (!setup.outputLength) { std::cerr << "[Setup - Error] Output length not specified" << std::endl; }
+    if (!setup.isFileSet || !setup.isPrefixSet || !setup.isOutputSet) { PrintUsage(); }
+}
+
+void PrintUsage(void) {
+    std::cout << "Usage:  markov -i input_file -k prefix_length -n output_length" << std::endl;
+    std::cout << "        -i: Direct path to input file for basis" << std::endl;
+    std::cout << "        -k: Prefix length for Markov chain" << std::endl;
+    std::cout << "        -n: Length of output to be generated (words)" << std::endl;
+    std::cout << "        -h: Prints this usage text" << std::endl;
+}
diff --git a/src/generator.hpp b/src/generator.hpp
index b4d95bd..a50313b 100644
--- a/src/generator.hpp
+++ b/src/generator.hpp
@@ -1,13 +1,26 @@
 #ifndef GENERATOR_HPP
 #define GENERATOR_HPP
 
+#include <string>
+
+void PrintUsage(void);
+
+struct ArgumentList {
+    std::string filename = "";
+    bool isFileSet = false;
+    int prefixLength = 0;
+    bool isPrefixSet = false;
+    int outputLength = 0;
+    bool isOutputSet = false;
+};
+
 struct Generator {
 public:
-    Generator(void);
+    Generator(void) = default;
+    ~Generator(void) = default;
     void SetArguments(int argc, char* argv[]);
 private:
-    int prefixLength = 0;
-    int outputLength = 0;
+    ArgumentList setup;
 };
 
 #endif // !GENERATOR_HPP
diff --git a/src/main.cpp b/src/main.cpp
index aba9d35..6997419 100644
--- a/src/main.cpp
+++ b/src/main.cpp
@@ -1,6 +1,10 @@
 #include "generator.hpp"
 
 int main(int argc, char* argv[]) {
+    if (argc == 1) { 
+        PrintUsage(); 
+        exit(0); 
+    }
     Generator markovChain;
     markovChain.SetArguments(argc, argv);
     return 0;
-- 
2.45.2