That dive to the top of the hill had separated him from the other machines in his flight except one which was following him on his return to the airdrome for ammunition and bombs. Gerry, gazing down, found disorganization more visible than when he had flown to the front. He could see the English troops, whom he had viewed advancing upon the roads, spreading out and forming a line of resistance; but he could better realize how few these English were for the needs of this mighty emergency. They were taking positions, not with any possible hope of holding them against the German masses but only with determination to fight to delay the enemy a little as Gerry had just seen some of them fight. He sighted his field and he swooped down upon it, leaping out as soon as he stopped. He saw that, as he had suspected, rifle or machine-gun bullets had gone through his wings; but they had not pierced spars or struts; his wires were tight. While men refilled his bomb racks and magazines and gave him fuel, he reported what he had seen and received new orders. His superiors recognized that the disaster, instead of lessening, was growing greater each hour. Powerful French and English reserves were on the way but they were still distant; meanwhile the local reserves were being used up. The English were gathering together and throwing in anyone and everyone to try to delay the German advance; there were kilometers where only this scratch army offered resistance--sutlers, supply men, and cooks armed with rifles and machine guns fighting beside Chinese coolies impressed into a fighting line. Gerry passed a word with an English pilot whom he knew well and who was just back from over another part of the battle field. “Hello, Hull! Your people rather getting into it over my way!” “Who? How?” Gerry called. “One of your engineer regiments were working behind the lines; line came back on ’em. They grabbed guns and went in and gave it to the Huns! Should have seen ’em. Can yet; they’re keeping at it.” The blood tingled hotter in Gerry’s veins; his people were fighting! His countrymen, other than the few who from the first had been fighting in the foreign legion or scattered in Canadian regiments or here and there in the flying forces, were having part in this battle! No great part, at that; and only an accidental part. Simply a regiment of American engineers, who had been on construction work for the British Fifth Army, had thrown down their shovels and tools, grabbed guns, and gone in. “You’ve some good girls--some awfully good girls out that way, too!” the English pilot cried.