He glanced up again. The French Spads were still above, a trained,
experienced group of war hawks sent up to take care of the "upstairs"
fighting while the Americans did the dirty work below. Cowan had not
mentioned this. Perhaps he did not know of it. McGee knew that in big
operations, and especially in such emergencies as this, orders were
issued without disclosing the whole plan to all participants. If each
unit obeys and carries out the orders received, then all goes well.

So far, all was well, and McGee was extremely grateful for that
protecting flight of Spads.

He determined to cross the river west of Dormans, make a thrust well
back of the lines, cut out again over Dormans and then, if luck were
with them, repeat the performance. No need to lay plans too far in
advance. Too much can happen in the tick of a second--things that knock
plans and the planner into a cocked hat.

Below them now was a far-flung battle of raging intensity. German troops
could be seen moving along toward the river, and a little farther inland
McGee spotted a long line of infantrymen along a road paralleling the
river. But they were moving westward, in the direction of
Chateau-Thierry, instead of toward the bridgehead at Dormans. And in
addition to the marching men, the road was choked with artillery,
caissons, ammunition wagons, and ambulances.

Here was an opportunity made to order, and just as McGee was preparing
to give the signal, he saw Yancey cut out and dive toward an observation
balloon that was being rapidly drawn down by excited winchmen. No use to
try to signal Yancey; that wild Texan was off on his joy-ride.

Archies and machine gun fire tried vainly to stop Yancey's wild dive.
Flaming onions began surging upward in their terrifying circlets, but
Yancey was as scornful of them as is a Texas steer of a buzzing deer
fly. His guns rattled in a short burst and the balloon exploded with a
terrific blast of flame and smoke. Yancey's plane rocked perilously. His
inexperience in "busting balloons" had come near being his own undoing.
But he righted his plane, somehow escaped the hail of shot and steel all
around him and came plunging back down the road filled with
fear-stricken men and plunging horses, his guns rattling joyously.

McGee, followed by Siddons, Porter and Fouche, swooped along the road
from the opposite direction, scattering the troops like chaff. With
death raining down on them from opposite but converging point