Adventure, July 1, 1928 — page 113: what you’re looking at

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

IN LINE He came to the last barrack of all, which was only about three-fourths built. Going inside, he found it empty of human life, but the contents was reassuring. Under the neatly spread double-decker bunks were officers’ boots, and the walls were covered with overcoats bearing the single stripe of a first lieutenant, and with various flying clothes and equipment. In what would be the middle of the long building was a single large stove which feebly radiated its rays of heat against the blasts of cold damp air from the open end. Near that end were several unoc- cupied bunks, one of which Tommy de- cided must be for him. side, and colder, too. The little flyer huddled closer to the stove and smoked a cigaret. Somebody must come in before long. Somebody did. There was a clatter on the duckboards outside and a horde of flying lieutenants trouped in, making loud noises and crowd- ing around the stove. Tommy scanned their faces anxiously, but there was no- body there he knew. A tall, thin man eyed him in a friendly manner, and Tommy asked him tg help him with his baggage. The other assented readily, and they excavated the large French trunk and fancy bed roll which marked a man who had enlisted in Paris, and one by one dragged them inside. “You might as well take this bunk next to me and Fat,” said the tall man, who was known as Long John. “We got left behind for a day in Paris by accident, and when we got here the barrack was almost full up, so we had to take bunks near the end. What ground school did you go to?” “{ never went to ground school,”’ re- turned Tommy. “I was an ambulance driver and enlisted in Paris.” He looked around curiously at his companions in the barrack. They were of an unfamiliar genus, men who had had their preliminary training and got their commissions in the States. There were various strange divisions in the early days of the Air Service in France. [ WAS commencing to get dark out- @F DUTY 107 At the French school at Tours there were, outwardly at least, several different breeds of Americans. First the Foreign Legion trained there, and then a lost or strayed detachment of American gobs. Then the Army started enlisting men in Paris, mostly former ambulance drivers, who continued the old feud between the American Ambulance and Norton Harjes, but united in scorn for those whose service had been confined to the Mexican Border. Then one day a body of men marched into camp in column of fours, a military evolution which the ambulance drivers regarded with pitying contempt. “Who are those men?” the question ran around. “Ground school men,” was the reply, - and the ex-ambulanciers immediately joined together in one clique against the others. Now Tommy was meeting a new divi- sion in the ranks of the flyers—those who had not only been to ground school, but had had preliminary flying training in the States. He inquired after various of his friends, only to find that they had been trans- ferred to a more advanced field; and, realizing that more than an hour still re- mained before supper, he started down the road toward a house he had noticed when the truck brought him to the field. Perhaps he might find a drink there, and possibly some one he knew. He was cold and shivering and thought longingly of the woolen underwear sent him by an aunt, which was buried in his trunk. For years he had worn nothing but so-called athletic underwear, but the time had evidently come to change. He approached the house, a solitary farm, but still somehow suggestive of liquid refreshment. The door stood open hospitably, and he walked in. His nose had not deceived him, for though there was no One in the room, a small bar stood along one end, and when the gnarled, stooped lady of the establishment came in, he ordered a glass of rum. The strong liquor warmed him. 3 comicloooks.com