Air Service Boys in the Big Battle | Page 2

Circus down where he can't do any more of his grandstand
stunts. But I'm hoping the time will come when we can climb up back of our machine
guns again, and do our bit to show that the little old U. S. A. is still on the map."
"I guess that time'll soon come, Tom, old man. I heard rumors that a lot of us were to be
sent up nearer the front shortly, and if they don't include you and me, there'll be
something doing in this camp!"
"That's what I say. So you thought I'd have a swelled head, did you, because they gave us
the croix de guerre?"
"I confess I had a faint suspicion that way," admitted Jack. "Both of us being advanced to
sergeants was a big step, too."
"It was," agreed Tom. "I almost wish they hadn't done it, for there are lots of others in the
escadrille that deserve it fully as much, and some more, than we do."
"That's right. But you can't make these delightful Frenchmen see anything the way you
want 'em to. Once they get a notion in their heads that you've done something for la belle
Frame, they're your friends for life, kissing you on both cheeks and pinning medals on
you wherever they'll stick."
"Well, they mean all right, Jack," said Tom. "And there aren't any braver or more lovable
people on the face of the earth than these same French. They've done more and suffered
more for their country than we dream of. And it's only natural that they should say 'much
obliged,' in their own particular way, to any one they think is helping to free them from
the Germans."
"I suppose you're right. But advancing us to sergeants would have been enough, without
pinning the decorations on us and mentioning us in the order of the day, as well as giving
us as fine a citation as ever was signed by a commanding general. However, it's all in the
day's work, though when we flew over the German super cannons, and did our bit in

helping demolish them so they couldn't shell Paris any more, we didn't think--or, at least,
I didn't--that we'd be sitting here talking about it."
"Me either," agreed Tom. "But, to get down to brass tacks, what have you been doing to
get into such a mess? You look like a chauffeur of the old days they tell of when they had
to climb under the car to see if it needed oiling--"
"That's just about what I have been doing," admitted Jack. "When I heard the rumor that
our escadrille might get orders to move at any hour, I decided that it was up to me to look
MY machine over. It didn't make that nose dive just the way I wanted it to the last time I
was up, and I'm not taking any chances. So I've been crawling in and around and under
it--"
"While I've been lying here I taking it easy!" broke in Tom. "I don't call that fair of you,
Jack," and he seemed genuinely hurt.
"Go easy now, my pickled onion!" laughed his chum. "I wasn't going to leave you out in
the cold. I just came to tell you that you'd better stop looking like a moving picture of an
airman, and put on some old duds to look over your own craft. And here you go and--"
"All right, old ham sandwich!" laughed Tom.
"I'll forgive you. I'm going to do the same as you, and tinker with my machine. If, as you
say, we're likely to be on the job again soon, I don't want too take any chances either.
Where's that mechanician of mine? There was something wrong with my joy stick, he
said, the last time I came down out of the clouds to take an enforced rest, and I might as
well start with that, if there's any repairing to be done--"
Tom flung off his uniform jacket, with the two silver wings, denoting that he was a
full-fledged airman, and sent an orderly to summon his chief mechanician, for each
aviator had several helpers to run messages for him, as well as to see that his machine is
in perfect trim.
Experts are needed to see to it that the machine and the aviator are in perfect trim, leaving
for the airman himself the trying and difficult task, sometimes, of flying upside down,
while he is making observations of the enemy with one eye, and fighting off a Boche
with the other--ready to kill or be killed.
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