"Good Lord!" said the Boy helplessly.
"Thrilled the spectators," repeated Dixie. "Thrilled ... well, if that doesn't take it."
The young pilot was laughing again, long and immoderately, and some of the others, looking at the two observers' faces, had to join him.
"Sixty thousand, you said," the Boy was beginning, when he was interrupted by a distant boom—boom—boom.
"Huns bombing Blanqueville again," said the young pilot. "More women and kid casualties, I suppose."
Dixie was cursing, low but very intensely. "If those spectators are out for thrills——" he said, and looked to where a red glow was beginning to rise in the sky over Blanqueville.
FOOTNOTES:
[6] Poor Blanky Infantry.
[7] Except that names are altered, the paragraph is reprinted here word for word as it appeared in a daily paper and was read by thousands of men in the line at the time of the first retreat in the spring of 1918. I have the cutting now.—B. C.