Attired in their natty uniforms of the La Fayette Escadrille, which they
had not discarded, with the double wings showing that they were fully
qualified pilots and aviators, Jack Parmly and Tom Raymond attracted
no little attention as, several hours after leaving their places on the
battle front, they arrived in Paris. They were to have a few days rest
before joining the newly formed American aviation section which, as yet,
was hardly ready for active work.
“Well, they're here!” suddenly cried Tom, as he and Jack made their way
out of the station to seek a modest hotel where they might stay until
time for them to report.
“Who? Where? I don't see 'em!” exclaimed Jack, as he crowded to the side
of his chum, murmurs from a group of French persons testifying to the
esteem in which the American lads were held.
“There!” went on Tom, pointing. “See some of our doughboys! And maybe
the crowds aren't glad to have 'em here! It's great, I tell you, great!”
As he spoke he pointed to several khaki-clad infantrymen, some of the
first of the ten thousand Americans lads that were sent over to “take
the germ out of Germany.” The Americans were rather at a loss, but they
seemed masters of themselves, and laughed and talked with glee as they
gazed on the unfamiliar scenes. They, too, were enjoying a holiday
before being sent on to be billeted with the French or British troops.
“Come on, let's talk to 'em!” cried Tom, enthusiastically. “It's as good
as a letter from home to see 'em!”
“I thought you meant you saw--er--Bessie and her mother,” returned Jack,
and there was a little disappointment in his voice.
“Oh, we'll see them soon enough, if they're still in Paris,” said Tom,
gazing curiously at his chum. “But they don't know we are coming here.”
“Yes, they do,” said Jack, quietly.
“They do? Then you must have written.”
“Of course. Don't you want to see them before we get shipped off to a
new sector?”
“Why, yes. Just now, though, I'm anxious to hear some good, old United
States talk. Come on, let's speak to 'em. There's one bunch that seems
to be in trouble.”
But the trouble was only because some of Pershing's boys--as they were
generally called wanted to make some purchases at a candy shop and did
not know enough of the language to make their meaning clear. It was a
good-natured misunderstanding, and both the French shop-keeper and his
helper and the doughboys were laughing over it.
“Hello, boys! Glad to see you! Can we help you out?” asked Tom, as he
and Jack joined the group.
The infantrymen whirled about.
“Well, for the love of the Mason an' Dixon line! is there somebody heah
who can speak our talk?” cried one lad, his accent unmistakably marking
him as Southern.
“Guess we can help you out,” said Jack. “We're from God's country, too,”
and in an instant the were surrounded and being shaken hands with on all
sides, while a perfect barrage of questions was fired at them.
Then, when the little misunderstanding at the candy shop had been
straightened out, Tom and Jack told something of who they were,
mentioning the fact that they were soon to fight directly under the
stars and stripes, information which drew whoops of delight from the
enthusiastic infantrymen.
“But say, friend,” called out one of the new American soldiers, “can you
sling enough of this lingo to lead us to a place where we can get ham
and eggs? I mean a real eating place, not just a coffee stand. I've
been opening my mouth, champing my jaws and rubbing my stomach all day,
trying to tell these folks that I'm hungry and want a square meal, and
half the time they think I need a doctor. Lead me to a hash foundry.”
“All right, come on with us!” laughed Tom. “We're going to eat, too. I
guess we can fix you up.”
The two aviators had been in Paris before and they knew their way about,
as well as being able to speak the language fairly well. Soon, with
their new friends from overseas, they were seated in a quiet restaurant,
where substantial food could be had in spite of war prices. And then it
was give and take, question and answer, until a group of Parisians that
had gathered about turned away shaking their heads at their inability to
understand the strange talk. But they were well aware of the spirit of
it all, and more than one silently blessed the Americans as among the
saviors of France.
The wonderful city seemed filled with soldiers of all the Allied
nations, and most conspicuous, because of recent events, were the
khaki-clad boys who were soon to fight under Pershing. Having seen that
the little contingent they had taken under their protection got what
they wanted, Tom and Jack, bidding them farewell, but promising to see
them again soon, went to their hotel.
And, their baggage arriving, Jack proceeded to get ready for a bath and
a general furbishing. He seemed very particular.
“Going out?” asked Tom.
“Why--er--yes. Thought I'd go to call on Bessie Gleason. This is her
night off duty--hers and her mother's.”
“How do you know?”
“Well--er--she said so. Want to come?”
“Nixy. Two's company and you know what three is.”
“Oh, come on! Mrs. Gleason will be glad to see you.”
“Well, I suppose I might,” assented Tom, who, truth to tell, did not
relish spending the evening alone.
Bessie and her mother had, of late, been assigned as Red Cross workers
to a hospital in the environs of Paris, and ant times they could come
into the city for a rest. They maintained a modest apartment not far
from the hotel where Tom and Jack had put up, and soon the two lads
found themselves at the place where their friends lived.
“Oh, I'm so glad you both came!” exclaimed Bessie as she greeted them.
“We have company and--”
“Company!” exclaimed Jack, drawing back.
“Yes, the dearest, most delightful girl you ever--”
“Girl!” exclaimed Tom.
“Yes. But come on in and meet her. I'm sure you'll both fall in love
with her.”
Jack was on the point of saying something, but thought better of it,
and a moment later, to the great surprise of himself and Torn, they were
facing Nellie Leroy.