OUT OF THE AIR
Clear of the trenches at last, it proved a long, tiresome march to
billets. The roads over which the Khaki Boys marched were rough and
full of shell holes. Long before they reached their destination a fine
rain began to fall, which soaked them to the skin. With it, however,
came a dense fog, which was a great help in concealing them from enemy
eyes.
An hour before dawn, when almost to billets, they heard a reverberating
roar, which they guessed to be that of the German guns. It announced to
them that Fritz had again begun his "strafeing." Every Sammie's heart
beat faster, as the welcome voices of their own big guns boomed forth
in answer.
To the thunderous tune played by these noisy orchestras of war, the
rain-drenched Khaki Boys at last reached billets. These consisted
of several stables, a deserted schoolhouse, and a long, barn-like
structure, which had been used by the Allies at the beginning of the
war as a supply depot.
To his great satisfaction, Jimmy drew the supply depot as a billet. It
was large enough to accommodate two hundred men, and when dawn came
he was overjoyed to find all three of his bunkies had been quartered
there, too.
"Talk about style," exulted Bob, when a little later the quartette
sat cross-legged in a row, devouring a breakfast of bacon, bread and
coffee. "This is almost as good as a real barracks. It's about the
cleanest billet we've struck since we started out in dear old Eight
Horses."
"It's pure luck, our getting together." Roger sighed his satisfaction.
"I'll bet we'll have a real cushy time while it lasts. I hope we don't
get shelled. Listen to the guns. It must be hail Columbia now in the
front-line trench on both sides. Seems funny to be away from it,
doesn't it?"
"I guess we've earned a rest," yawned Jimmy, "and a bath along with it,
about four times a day. It'll take me three weeks to get clear of mud
and these blamed cooties. First chance I get I'm going to hunt for a
creek and live in it."
"So will I," vowed Ignace. "I am the mud all over. My mothar now see,
no believe I am the son to she."
"I'd hate to have _my_ mother see me now," smiled Jimmy. "She wouldn't
sleep nights for the next year. Just as soon as we get settled I'm
going to write to her. I wrote every day to the folks while I was in
the trenches. I hope some of those letters get across."
"I guess they will, that is, if you didn't put anything in 'em that the
censors got peeved at," rejoined Bob. "About all a fellow is allowed to
write is 'I am well,' and 'good-bye.'"
"Some of us ought to write to Schnitz's folks," said Roger soberly.
"Not yet." Jimmy shook his head. "Wait awhile. Maybe Schnitz'll come
back to us."
"I don't believe it, Blazes," disagreed Bob sadly. "He got his out
there in the dark, I'm afraid. Schnitz was the kind to fight till he
dropped, rather than be taken prisoner."
"I tell you I had a hunch out there in the trench that I'd see him
again," Jimmy stubbornly asserted. "It came to me just as plain as
anything, 'Schnitz isn't croaked. He'll come back.'"
"You think Schnitz he come back, so think I," nodded Ignace, who was
always fond of backing up his best Brother's statements.
"Well, I hope it works out that way," declared Roger kindly.
Privately, his belief in hunches was not strong.
"I wish I'd never let him go that night," Jimmy continued moodily. "If
he'd waited ten minutes longer, as I did, the two of us would have got
back to the lines together."
"You might not have, at that," was Bob's opinion. "You can't tell how
it would have come out. His way was the wisest."
Continuing to talk of Schnitzel, the memory of whom was constantly
before them, the four Brothers finished breakfast and went outside
their quarters to look around them. As they had been on the march
nearly all night, they expected to sleep part of the day. So far as
military routine was concerned, they were "on their own" until Taps
that night. Next morning, however, they would be subject to the usual
military routine they had observed when in the training camps.
Wandering about in the vicinity of their billet, the four Brothers
whooped with joy at sight of a good-sized creek, which looked to be
not more than a quarter of a mile back of the depot. Hastily repairing
to their quarters, they got out soap, towels, and clean underwear.
Laden with these, an extra uniform blouse, and a pair of clean leggins
apiece, they raced across the fields to the creek, and were soon
jubilantly swimming about in its clear, but very cold water.
It was the first real bath that any of them had enjoyed since leaving
the village where they had been briefly quartered before going on their
long march to the trenches. Cold as the water was, they soon grew used
to it, and had a glorious time splashing about in its clear depths.
After their bath, they donned clean clothing, washed out their
discarded underwear, hanging it to dry in the sun on some low bushes
nearby. They also gave their soiled leggins a much-needed scrubbing.
By the time the leggins had become presentable again, their wash was
partially dry.
"We can't wait all day for these duds to get dry." Bob passed a
critical hand over his damp wash. "Let's take 'em back to billet and
hang 'em up there. Now I've had a bath, I want to go bye-bye. Besides,
we ought to tell the other guys about this French swimming pool. They
need a bath, too."
"Tell 'em nothing. Listen to that! Look over there!"
Jimmy pointed across the field. A dozen men were charging toward them,
yelling and wildly waving clean clothing, towels or whatever they
chanced to have in their hands.
"Discovered," grinned Bob. "Welcome to our bath tub!" he shouted, as
the running group drew near. "Jump in, the water's fine. It's a sure
cure for trench mud and live stock."
After exchanging a few good-natured sallies with the gleeful Sammies,
who were discarding their clothing as fast as their hands would let
them, the four Khaki Boys left the creek and started back to quarters.
"Pipe the plane!" yelled Jimmy suddenly, pointing upward. "I'll bet
it's just come from over the German lines. She's a Frenchie, too. You
can see her colors. She's flying pretty low."
"She's coming down fast!" shouted Bob. "Looks as though she'd been
nipped."
Pausing to watch the plane, it seemed to the Khaki Boys that it was,
indeed, coming down altogether too fast for safety to its pilot.
"He's lost control of it! No, he hasn't, either! He's sure some
birdman. Oh, joy! Watch him!"
Jimmy was prancing about, flourishing his wash, as he poured forth this
volley of excited exclamation.
"He's going to land right the other side of the depot! Come on! I want
to get a look at him!"
Bob had now taken up the cry. With "Come on!" he was off across the
field, his three bunkies keeping up with his mad dash. Already a crowd
of Sammies had come out of the depot, and were running toward the
aviator, who had now made a skilful and easy landing.
"We may get the grand snub," panted Bob, as they neared the quiescent
plane.
Its pilot was just stepping out of the seat. He moved very stiffly, and
staggered a little, as his feet touched the ground. His face partially
toward the plane, he turned smilingly as the noisy delegation of
Sammies rushed up to him.
"It's Cousin Emile!" bawled Jimmy at the top of his lungs, and dashed
straight toward the smiling man.
"Blaise! This is, indeed, most remarkable!" called out a deep voice.
A ready hand shot forth to meet Jimmy's, and grasped it warmly.
"Gee whiz, but I'm glad to see you, sir!" was Jimmy's fervent greeting.
"You'll have to excuse me for calling you 'Cousin Emile.' I was
certainly flabbergasted for a minute."
"No apologies," laughed Voissard, showing his white teeth in amusement
at Jimmy's confusion. "It is the very pleasant surprise to meet you
thus, my dear young comrade. And your friends, too," he added, offering
his hand in turn to Ignace, Bob and Roger, who now grouped themselves
about him with beaming faces. "Now of a truth it seems you must have
just come from the bath."
His quick eyes had taken in the newly cleansed articles of clothing in
the boys' hands.
"We certainly have," affirmed Bob. "We landed here just before daylight
from our first front-line trench detail. You can guess how much we
needed a big clean-up."
"Ah, yes, I can easily understand." Voissard's fine face grew
sympathetic. "It is the hard life in those muddy trenches. I marvel
that you are still here to tell of it. But where is your comrade of the
dark face and quiet, sincere manner? You see my memory is good."
"He's gone, sir," was Jimmy's sad response.
Inquiry for Schnitzel caused the four eager faces to cloud over.
Briefly, Jimmy informed Voissard of all he knew pertaining to
Schnitzel's disappearance.
"It is the fortune of war," was the aviator's grave comment when Jimmy
had finished. "We learn in time to accept all in that spirit. I, too,
have lost many valued and loyal friends at the front. I share your
sorrow for this brave comrade. Yet I am happy that none other of you
has met with misfortune.
"It is purely by chance that I found you," he continued. "I spent the
night over the Allemand lines. Naturally, my plane has received rough
treatment. It was necessary for me to come down and make the repairs. I
have yet some distance to go, and my bird's wings need the attention."
"Can we do anything to help you, sir?" was Jimmy's prompt inquiry.
"_Merci_, but no. My plane needs but a few touches here and there,
which only myself can give and hurriedly. I have the important
information gleaned, which I must impart quickly to those who wait for
it. For how long shall you remain in billet?"
Voissard cast a thoughtful glance at Jimmy as he asked the question.
"Three weeks, unless we get other orders."
"That is well. Watch for me. If all goes as I hope, I shall return here
to see you within the next three days. I have much to say to you."
During this conversation, the Sammies who had run out of billets and
up to the aeroplane, had drawn back a little distance from it, and the
quartette gathered about the aviator. The average American boy hates
to "butt in." Nevertheless, many pairs of bright eyes were wistfully
watching the trim Nieuport, and the favored four who appeared to be on
such intimate terms with its pilot.
Noting this, Jimmy was seized with a kindly inspiration.
"Would you mind speaking a word to the fellows back there, sir?" he
inquired deferentially. "They'd like it a lot, especially if they knew
who you really were. May I call them over and tell 'em? It will only
take a minute and they'll be good. It will be a regular bang-up treat
for them."
A half-frown touched Voissard's dark brows, then his boyish smile came
into evidence.
"Since you ask it," he consented, "but only for a moment."
At the word of permission, Jimmy hurried back to where his comrades
stood.
"Fellows," he greeted. "Come up and meet the Flying Terror of France.
I'd like him to see what a rattling fine bunch we've got in the good
old 509th."
This last compliment was slyly intended to put every Sammy on his best
behavior. It succeeded signally. An awed and admiring delegation, led
by Jimmy, filed respectfully up to the aviator. Forming a little line,
they came smartly to Attention. On the last word of presentation spoken
by Jimmy, every man saluted.
Gracefully returning the salute, Voissard made an earnest little
speech to his young admirers, expressing his pleasure at meeting them,
and thanking them in the name of France for their loyal response and
allegiance to the Allied cause.
As he finished speaking, the Sammies again saluted. Wheeling, they were
about to march off when he stopped them, expressing a wish to shake the
hand of each. To the delighted Khaki Boys it was a red-letter occasion.
Boyish exuberance getting the upper hand, they could not resist giving
three cheers for Voissard, as he took the hand of the last man in line.
Then it seemed necessary to give three more for France, and another
three for the United States. Finally, they trooped happily off, full of
gratitude to Blaise, a "corking Sarge," who "hadn't a stingy bone in
his body."
The four Brothers remained with Cousin Emile while he went over
the plane, and made the minor repairs which he had referred to as
"touches." It took the better part of an hour to make them, during
which period the boys hovered admiringly about the clean-cut little
lighting craft.
"I'd almost give my eyes to take a trip with you, sir," was Jimmy's
wistful assertion, as Voissard was about to say good-bye.
"Your company would be the great pleasure," the aviator courteously
replied. "However, we shall at least meet again soon," he added,
extending his hand in friendly farewell.
There was a quizzical twinkle in Cousin Emile's dark eyes. Had Jimmy
known what was going on behind them he would have been raised to the
seventh heaven of bliss. He could not possibly guess that his ardent
desire to take a trip with Voissard was in a fair way to be presently
realized.