... Com-pan-ee, At-ten-shun! Forward, March!"

"Mademoiselle from Armentieres,
_Parlez vous_.
Mademoiselle from Armentieres..."

A new giant was going in, a giant that did not yet know its own
strength, a somewhat clownish giant, singing as it came.

3

Those three days of the Crown Prince's drive on the Marne were dark days
for France. The French people listened eagerly for word from the
front--and prayed as they had never prayed before, while every American
unit, wherever billeted in France, waited impatiently for orders that
would send them in for their first baptism of fire.

McGee and Larkin, though supposed to be instructors and therefore
unmoved by the battle lust that had laid heavy hands on every pilot in
France, found themselves itching for action. They could smell battle
afar off; they knew the need of air supremacy at such a time. On the
flying field, and at squadron headquarters, they tried to cheer up the
depressed and sullen pilots who were chafing under the restraint of
inaction. But alone, in the home of Madame Beauchamp, they freely
expressed their feelings.

"I can't see why this squadron is not ordered up," McGee said to Larkin
one night as they sat alone in their room. "They are better trained than
we were when we hopped across the channel. Remember that day, Buzz?"

"Yes indeed! That was our big day; it's exactly the same big day these
chaps are waiting for. There must be a great need of planes. I
understand the German Army has crashed through to the Marne. If they
pass there--" he shrugged his shoulders expressively.

They sat for a moment in silence, thinking the same gloomy thoughts that
were so staggering to all the people of the allied nations.

"What if the squadron should be sent up?" Larkin asked at last. "Just
where would we get off?"

McGee shook his head. "Don't know, I'm sure. It's strange how we've
received no word on our applications for repatriation. I guess we are
stuck for the rest of the war. Instructors! Bah! I'm developing an itch
for action."

"So am I," Larkin agreed. "When we were first sent back from the front,
I'll admit I was glad enough to come. I was fed up. But I'm fed up here
now. And what can _we_ do about it?"

"Well, for one thing I can go to bed," McGee replied yawning. "To-morrow
is another day." He began unwinding one of his wrapped puttees. "Ever
notice how much longer these blasted things are when you are sleepy?" he
asked.