Can't See Bomb's Results.
"You can't hear them explode or see the results unless you're flying quite a distance behind the squadron because we go so fast that by the time the fire gets under way we are miles off. Except for Lehr's machine, we maintained our formation and came out flying in the same position. If there were any Boche patrols out in our neighborhood they knew better than to tackle us.
"When we came down I found my observer unconscious. I thought he had been hit, but he had only fainted from the cold.
"You big rummy," turning to the observer and swiping one of his cigarettes from the open box on the table—"You big rummy, I told you you had better surround something hot before starting—a bowl of oatmeal or coffee.
"Gimmie a light now."
All five are awaiting their transfer to the American flying corps.
——
STARS IN A HERO'S ROLE.
——
Movie Actor Plays Sapper in a
Real Rescue.
——
Among the candidates for officers' commissions at the A. E. F.'s training schools is a former movie star who has served his apprenticeship with the British Army. To see him now, few would recognize him as one of the high steppers under the bright night lights of Broadway as he was a year ago. Seized by a sudden impulse, he enlisted in the British army without waiting for America to get into the war and now in return for faithful service, has been given an opportunity by that government to fight under his own flag. Several other Americans who have also worn the British uniform, and who were sent to the school for the same purpose, tell this story of one of the former screen star's experiences:
In the darkness—locomotives, auto lights in the fighting zone—a heavily loaded truck was struck by a train. The truck was overturned down an embankment, imprisoning the two men on it, killing one almost instantly and seriously injuring the other. Spurred by the latter's groans and appeals for help an officer was directing a squad of men with crowbars and sticks in an effort to lift the truck when the former actor came up. The men were making no progress in budging the heavy wreck while there was a possibility, if they did, that it would crash down on the still living man.
"I think I can get the man out, sir if I may try," the New Yorker said saluting the officer.
"Who are you?" the officer asked surprised at the interruption.
"I'm a Yank, sir," he replied, using the popular designation for Americans in the British army.
"What's your rank?" continued the officer, determined that the man be rescued properly if at all.
"Master engineer, sir," the American answered.
Evidently that was sufficient for the officer, for he at once assented with:
"You may try. Lend him a hand men."
The "Yank" took a shovel and started tunnelling under the truck. As he wormed himself into the little hole, the shovel was abandoned for a bayonet and he pushed the dirt back with his hands to others, who threw it aside. After an hour's work, he had the dead man out. Another hour, and he had burrowed molelike, to the side of the other man, who still was conscious.
"Do you want to take a chance? It'll be torture getting out," he said to the truck driver.
["Anything to get from here to die outside," the man gasped.]
A rope was shoved in and the American tied it around the man's legs. Slowly, while he guided the battered body of the now unconscious man, comrades pulled them both back through the narrow tunnel.
"I'll see that you're mentioned in regimental orders for your efforts," said the officer to the exhausted "Yank," and he did.
The truck driver had an arm broken, a shoulder crushed and a fractured skull. He was rushed to a hospital on a chance that his life might be saved after so much effort. The work was not in vain, for a few days ago a letter was received from him, well again at his home in England, saying to the former movie star:
"The latch string of this home in Leicester is always hanging out for you."