Adventure, July 1, 1928 — page 114: what you’re looking at

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

108 There was a puttering roar outside, and a motorcycle pulled up at the door. Tommy observed the evident agitation of the Madame with surprise. Then a man with a hard face came inside. He looked at Tommy threateningly. “Have a drink,” invited the little pilot in friendly tones. He hated to drink alone, even if he was cold. The other, who wore a brassard around his arm like a stretcher bearer in the French army, agreed in a surly man- ner. Tommy wondered who the fellow was as he gulped his drink, and waited to see if the other would return the compli- ment, as was in vogue in those days. He didn’t, and Tommy turned to leave. “Hey, feller,” said the surly one. “Guess I’ll have another one.” ‘Sure, if you like,” answered Tommy, surprised. He ordered and paid for another round. There was something peculiar here that he didn’t understand. Just then there was the sound of another motorcycle outside. “The officer of the day!” exclaimed the tough man with the arm band, rushing out. Tommy heard his voice raised placatingly. “Yes, sir,” it said. “I just went in to see if there was anybody inside, but there was no one there.” “All right, get on with the patrol,” said another voice. The two motorcycles roared away. Tommy was bewildered. He left the café and walked back to the barrack. Perhaps he could find out there what it all meant. Although he bore lieutenant’s bars on his shoulders, he was as innocent of the Army and its ways as a baby. T found the flying lieutenants gath- ered around the stove. Among them was Long John, and he singled him out and told him his queer story. To Tommy’s surprise he burst into raucous laughter. “Hey, Fat! Hey, guys! Listen to this, will ya! This bird goes up the-road to THE open ended barrack he H. P. S. GREENE the café that’s out of bounds, and when the M.P. comes in he asks him to have a drink.” Chorus— “Veah?” “Yeah. And then he wonders why the M.P. don’t buy him one.” “Fact, and then the M.P. tells him to buy another one, and he does!” “Yeah?” “And then the officer of the day drives up, and the M.P. tells him there’s no- body in there, and they ride off, and now this bird wants to know what it’s all about!” A howl of glee went up, and from that moment Tommy became a marked man at Issy-la-Boue, as he had a habit of doing everywhere he went. A bugle blew at this juncture and all the flying officers rushed to their bunks and seized peculiar looking instruments with which they went outside. Still wonder- ing, Tommy followed them. could see them trouping into a brightly lighted building, and he fol- lowed. There they had formed in line, and were approaching a counter behind which stood cropheaded fat men who were ladling out what Tommy’s nose told him was food. As they were served the flyers hurried away to seat themselves on long benches at bare wooden tables and wolf their meal. Tommy accosted the large man whom Long John had addressed as Fat, whose bulk had evidently cut down his speed so that he was near to the end of the line. “Say,” he asked, “where do I get some of those things they eat out of?” “What, ain’t you got no messkit?” queried Fat. “You'll have to draw one in the morning. For tonight you'd better borrow Long John’s. He’s always in the head of the line when the doors open, and he eats faster than any man in the outfit. But where have you been in the Army not to have a messkit?”’ “‘We always ate in the canteen at the comicloooks.com [’ WAS dark by that time, but he