Shortly after the great Argonne Offensive commenced, the Fifth Corps Air Service was visited by a small troop of Y. M. C. A. entertainers. I was at their airdrome at the time. In the party were two young ladies, one blonde and the other a brunette. As I was a sort of special boarder myself, I was very fortunately a guest at the Headquarters Mess, and at the head of the table sat Lieutenant Colonel A. R. Christie, who was the commander-in-chief of the Corps Air Service. I had heard early in the afternoon that these girls were coming, and it had been so long since I had seen a real American girl that my enthusiasm over their prospective arrival was not exceeded by a country lad’s anticipation of his first circus. As luck would have it, at the dinner table I was seated next to the brunette, which was just what I had wanted. I must say she was a “Queen.” She had eyes that were all eyes, and when she smiled it seemed, as the poet would say, just like the flooding of a dark and desolate dungeon with the glorious light of day. She wore a daintily scented perfume that made it all seem to be just like the environment of a wonderful rose garden and this girl was the loveliest rose of them all. I immediately felt my insignificance, for I was only a Lieutenant, and around me were Colonels, Majors and Captains, and on account of this subordinance I knew my place demanded reticence rather than verbosity. Therefore, when introduced I merely told her quite formally how happy I was to know her and then I closed shop with all the good intentions of a huge, triple-locked, steel safe. However, Eileen, for this was her name, had the master combination for unlocking the deposit box of pentup conversation. She started it, but after she had been going for two or three minutes, rank did not amount to anything to me, because I was quite sure, as I had been several times before and have been several times since, that this was the one girl God had made for Elmer. So to me Rank was business and Love was pleasure, and pleasure superseded business. Versatility was this girl’s middle name, and to my great surprise she even had a conversational knowledge of aerial observation, which is, indeed, unusual for a woman. Perhaps the reason she was so friendly to me was that I had some knowledge of aviation myself, and she wanted to learn more. She asked me no questions, however, simply volunteered her own information, so I felt she could not possibly be a spy, but whether she was or not it didn’t matter to me, for I was thoroughly convinced that there never before had been a girl like this and there never could be another afterwards.