He turned toward the hangar. There was but one ship on the field, a two-seater. By its side stood Siddons and his air mechanic. They seemed to be in close-headed conference. McGee clicked his teeth in a little sound of suppressed emotion, slipped through the hangar door and stood face to face with his own old Ack Emma. "For the luva Pete!" exclaimed the startled air mechanic. "When did you get here, Lieutenant?" McGee extended his hand in greeting. Williams grasped it, eagerly. "Well, for the luva Pete?" he repeated, lacking words in his surprise and pleasure. "Lieutenant Larkin! Oh, Lieutenant Larkin!" he began roaring. "Oh, Bill! Where's Larkin?" "Just left a minute ago," came a voice from under the hood of a new Spad. "Went over to his quarters to wash up. Grease from head to foot." "I'll go show you his quarters," Williams said, eagerly. "Never mind, I'll find him," McGee said. "Have to check in at headquarters first. I hear Cowan is still C.O." "Yes, sir. He sure is. And he's a darb, Lieutenant." "So I hear. Piling up quite a record. How many of the old gang still here, Williams?" "Not many. If the Hun doesn't get 'em, nerves and the smell of castor-oil does. Half a dozen of 'em gone flooey in the stomach. Couldn't eat enough to keep a bird alive and couldn't keep that down. It's a tough game, Lieutenant. Next war that comes yours truly is going to join the infantry." "Don't do it," McGee warned, as he turned away. "I've just had a little experience with the infantry and it's not such a bed of roses. See you later, Williams." "Well for the luva Pete!" Williams commented to himself, standing arms akimbo as he watched McGee cross over toward headquarters. "And they said that bird's head was busted wide open and his brains scattered all over France. Now there he is, big as life. I'll bet ten bucks to a lousy centime he lives to fall off a merry-go-round and break his neck. For the luva Pete!" 2 McGee's return to the squadron would have been fittingly celebrated but for the fact that five o'clock the following morning had been designated as "zero hour" for the greatest drive ever undertaken by Americans on foreign soil. He had arrived just in time to hurl himself into the feverish preparations for the support which all air units must give the massed ground forces that would hurl themselves upon the supposedly impregnable Hindenburg Line. With the coming of dawn the combat squadrons must gain and hold air supremacy. Nothing less than complete and absolute supremacy would satisfy Great Headquarters, who in planning the drive were high in the hope that the fresh divisions of American soldiers could break through the Hindenburg Line and by hammering, hammering, hammering at the enemy force him into peace terms before the coming of winter.