“Tomorrow, Lieutenant Langdon, “the Orly official went on, “you three transfers, with you in charge, will ferry three of these new DH’s up to the Trente-Neuf squadron’s ’drome. You’ll get their location last thing before taking off. It’s an American group in an American sector--a sector all bought and paid for. Major John Mack’s in charge up there. Boy, you’re in luck--drawing a C O. like Mack. He’s one of the gang and actually flies. Pilots from the front seat too, and without a second lieutenant hidden away on the rear controls. Give the major a hello for me, Lieutenant. Get the numbers on those three ships and look ’em over. If you want anything around here, ask for it--and see if you get it! Or if you want anything, take it--and see if we care!” The next day was fine. It was life’s rosiest for three willing Yanks. Birds were singing, poppies blowing and the skies were high and clear. “Follow me,” Langdon said. The ferry up was without event; and the Trente-Neuf’s ’drome was where a blind man could find it. Later, Langdon and his mates were to learn that German airmen also located the place without much trouble. “You boys,” Major Mack said, “can see the highway commissioner and take out registration papers on those machines you ferried up. We’ve lost a few men in the past week--flu, you know--and it won’t be many hours before you’re out on your own. The Trente-Neuf welcomes you. It isn’t much of a name, but the outfit’s top-notch. Also, remember it’s your home; and a home’s what you make it--between drinks. And right now and here--no drinking, boys, except at mess and between meals. “Look around now. Get to know the mechanics. Treat ’em right--the mechanics--and they’ll treat you right. Don’t ever forget to remember that air battles are won on the ground. You know, they say a celebrity is only a dub to his valet. That’s the way up here. A cocky pilot finishes fast and quick on these strange airways. I know because I’ve lost several pilots in battle who were never game enough to get out of the weeds. Why, to get them, an enemy pilot would have to use telepathy. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, boys, and report for mess in clothes. That’s all the orders we have here. If you salute me, I’ll credit you with a gold star. If you don’t salute me, I’ll never hold it against you. This old uniform of mine is a disgraceful affair and by all rights does not rate a salaam. Go; come when you’re in trouble.” The three saluted us though it were a pleasure, and went out. “If the Trente-Neuf is like its C.O,” Langdon said to his flying mates, “this dump’s going to be a home. Guess we can work here.”