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Updated: June 18, 2025
He dropped to his knees, drew out his small flashlight, hitherto held in reserve for desperate emergencies, and cautiously turned it on. It glimmered across a face a face at once familiar and horrible. A well-known face, yet so ghastly in its bloody disfigurement that Blaine shivered, drew back, then bent downward and forward. "Finzer!" he gasped. "My God! Is this you?"
Wonder if poor Finzer had his night signals along? Ah, here they are!" He was overhauling with one hand a small locker that was part of the fuselage Moreover, there were still two unused sheafs of ammunition for the Lewis gun and a few grenades and bombs. Finzer had not expended all his allotment in the balloon attack. "Guess I'd better edge in towards where that drive seems to be centering.
This meal over, a bugle sounded from the parade ground near the grove of trees. It was the general summons for squadron practice. As the boys filed out, each in full flying rig, they saw Commander Byers on the field, watching the mechanics roll out the machines. There were a dozen or more of the fighting planes, like those which Erwin and Finzer had used for morning practice.
Believe me, unless things have changed mightily, there isn't much there in the way of reinforcements or more planes or anything." "You've been back there since?" "You bet! Finzer and I went over there the day before you left the hospital. The Boches have no notion that our side is doing anything here, except air-raiding in No-Man's-Land or using our planes.
Remember, don't you? It was while we were returning home from that raid where poor Finzer got his." "Don't say! Yes, of course, we've all heard how you and Buck piloted our fellows after you two had been out all night. Had a hell of a time didn't you?" Suddenly Erwin looked his amazement. "Look here, Lafe. Honest Injun!
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