Adventure, July 1, 1928 — page 115: what you’re looking at

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

IN LINE French flying school until the Y. M. C. A. came along and closed it up because they served wine there,” answered Tommy. “They made a speech about the evils of drink and were going to serve chocolate instead, but the chocolate never came. After that we generally ate at the Greasy Spoon across the road, because they didn’t serve anything but boiled beef and boiled potatoes at the mess hall, but even there they furnished dishes.” “Well, you'll get no dishes furnished here,” said Fat. ‘But look, there goes Long John already. Follow him out to the tubs, and get his messkit when he gets through washing it.” Tommy trailed the tall man out into the cold, dark night, where several dim forms could be seen and heard slopping around near two large tubs on the ground. As John rose from his task and shook his tools in lieu of wiping them, Tommy accosted him and borrowed the messkit. Then he rushed back into the mess hall just in time to get the last of the slum. He eyed the German K. P.’s with some misgiving. It occurred to him that it would be a fine opportunity for some patriotic Boche to wash out the American Air Service by a judicious application of ground glass or rough-on-rats, but he ate the slum, which was fairly good, ‘though Teutonically greasy. Then he went outside to the tubs, where the late eaters were still trying to . wash their utensils. By this time the water was stone cold, and full of frag- ments of food. Cries for more hot Wasser rent the air, but the German K. P.’s only stood in their warm kitchen and laughed, and made guttural and doubtless insult- ing remarks in reply. After the iron discipline of their own army, they were tickled pink at the opportunity to insult any kind of officer, even an American aviator, who was the lowest of the low. Tommy wiped most of the grease out of his dish with his handkerchief and then returned the mess kit to Long John at the barrack with an apology. OF DUTY 109 about to start for the operations room to find out the schedule for the next day, and invited Tommy to come along. On the bulletin board he found that he had been assigned to Sec- tion 18. Various other changes in sections were posted, butsthe last one took his eye. It read: , \HE TALL MAN and Fat were Ist. Lieut. John Smith, A. S. S. O. R. C. Transferred from Section 3 to Death in Line of Duty. by order of —HERMAN KRAUSE, MAJOR, SIGNAL CORPS. ‘‘What’s the idea ordering some guy to ‘Death in Line of Duty’?” he asked Long John. “Huh? Oh, they always do that when some bird gets bumped,” answered the tall man. “You’re in Section 13, same as me. We go to rotary motors in the morning, and then machine gun.” “What do you mean, rotary motors?” inquired Tommy. “Oh, they've got one of these Le Rhone motors like they have in the Nieuports mounted on ‘a block over at the hangars, and some goof gives a lecture about it, and then we practise twiddling the little levers—‘manettes’, they call *em—that make it go. We've had it four or five times already. They always give it to us when they can’t think of any- thing else for us to do.” “But I’ve flown hundreds of miles with rotary motors,’ Tommy exclaimed. “I made all my voyages and my altitude test for my brevet with them.” “Never mind that,” returned Long John. “You'll probably have all the more lectures about ’em on that account.” They returned to the barrack, and Tommy started to unpack his things. From his bed roll he produced-a pair of rubber boots, made in such a close imita- tion of regulation officers’ boots that it took a elose inspection to see that they weren’t the real article. “What a trick for roll call mornings,” exclaimed Fat, looking at them enviously. “You know we have roll call at six o'clock, and then we have to wait until comicloooks.com