Sergeants Tom Raymond and Jack Parmly, chums and fellow airmen
flying for France, started toward the aerodromes where their
machines were kept when not in use. They were both attired now for
hard and not very clean work, though the more laborious part would
be done by mechanics at their orders. Still the lads themselves
would leave nothing to chance. Indeed no airman does, for in very,
truth his He and the success of an army may, at times, depend on the
strength or weakness of a seemingly insignificant bit of wire or the
continuity of a small gasoline pipe.
"Well, it'll seem good to get up in the air again," remarked Jack.
"A little rest is all right, but too much is more than enough."
"Right 0, my sliced liberty bond!" laughed Tom. "And now--"
Their talk was interrupted by a cheer that broke out in front of a
recreation house, in reality a YMCA hut, or le Foyer du Soldat as it
was called. It was where the airmen went when not on duty to read
the papers, write letters and buy chocolate.
"What's up now?" asked Jack, as he and his chum looked toward the
cheering squad of aviators and their assistants.
"Give it up. Let's go over and find out."
They broke into a run as the cheering continued, and then they saw
hats being thrown into the air and men capering about with every
evidence of joy.
"We must have won a big battle!" cried Jack.
"Seems so," agreed Tom.
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