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Updated: May 25, 2025
Something of the old spirit of knighthood characterizes air service. It is individual work; its numbers are relatively few. Some mornings ago I saw several young soldiers with notebooks going about our village street. They were from the cadet school where privates, from the trenches, take a course and return with chocolate drops on their, sleeve-bands as commissioned officers.
The resplendent woman behind her took note of the widow's excessive thinness, the greyness of her straight, tight hair, the rigid lines of a black stuff gown that had not a scrap of trimming on it not even the lawn sleeve-bands widows use and thought of Bennet Goldsworthy's old-time annoyance when his wife was proved to have fallen behind the mode.
An uproar in the station. A scurry of guards and soldiers. White sleeve-bands. Machine-guns behind heaped bags of sand. A halloo of orders across the arc of the spacious shed. Passengers pouring out of the newly arrived train, smiling, weeping, staring indifferently. The officer desired the passengers to line themselves up against the train. A suggestive order, and confusion.
"See, the white guards are still in possession." A group of soldiers with white sleeve-bands over the gray-green of their uniforms passed in an empty street. "There will be white guards at the station, too," she went on. "The attack will come to-night. It must." She looked intently at von Stinnes who, opening his eyes suddenly, whispered, "Ah, Mathilde ... there was once another München...."
Whispers in the crowd.... "Personally, I prefer the guillotine.... No, no, madame. There is no danger. These are good boys. Soldiers of the government. You can tell by the sleeve-bands. White. Merely baggage inspection." Dorn waited his turn. A group of soldiers approached slowly, delving into pockets for weapons, peering into opened pieces of baggage.
The brilliant uniform prevailed, and Merrihew surrendered the luggage, marveling. Hillard seemed to know every one over here. "Beautiful weather," said the uniform, as they passed through the gates. "Fine," said Merrihew. From the corner of his eye he inspected the man at his side. Certainly he could be no less than a captain in the navy, with those epaulets and sleeve-bands.
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