Adventure, July 1, 1928 — page 111: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

By WEP The story of a flying lieutenant who went A.W.0.L. IN LINE HEAVY TRUCK _ lumbered slowly along a road in central France. On both sides of the road was an uninspiring vista of brown fields, stretching away as far as the eye could reach, and only occasion- ally broken by small clumps of small scrubby trees. On the seat of the truck beside the driver sat a little man with a drooping mustache. This droopiness was evidence that he had come there by way of Paris. When he reached the French capital the mustache had been smartly waxed. Finally he addressed the driver out of sheer boredom. “Pretty sad dump around here, ain’t it?” he remarked obviously. “Sad?” inquired the truck driver, a horse faced man with a large bulge in his 105 of DUTY cheek, who suggested mules rather than mechanical means of locomotion. “Sad? Say, Lieutenant, you ain’t seen nuthin’ yet! Wait till you see the flyin’ field. They have to lay duckboards to get out to the airyplanes on. The only birds who have a good time around there are the Dutchmen—prisoners, you know. I took *em out a load of beer and cognac this morning, and there was a_hardboiled M.P. sergeant ridin’ the load to make sure it all got there, an’ it did, too. And then the lucky suckers work in the kitchen and get all they want to eat, too—the Dutch, I mean. Makes me sick to think o’ them krauts lyin’ around with nuthin’ to do but stuff an’ guzzle, while hard workin’ guys like me— Look, there’s the field now.” He pointed ahead to a group of low comicloooks.com