“Well, where to now?” asked Ned, when the Flyer had continued on her course in a westerly direction for about ten minutes. “Shall we head for Russian Poland and see what General Von Hindenburg is doing towards capturing Warsaw?”
“Don’t go there because you may think that I want to,” replied Bob. “I’m sick of the way they fight here on the eastern frontier. They may kill more men in Belgium with their big cannon, but at least they do it in a soldierly fashion.”
“I’d rather go somewhere else too,” said Alan. “How about a flight to Asia Minor? I read in the papers just before we left America that the Allied fleets were knocking the Turkish forts on the Dardanelles to pieces with thirteen-inch guns. That might be an interesting sight.”
“No, let’s not go there,” Bob objected. “Let poor little Turkey die alone. She had no business getting mixed up in this war in the first place. We’ll pass up the scrap there and the Japanese assault on Tsing-Tau. As far as I’m concerned there’s only one place more I’d like to see before we start for New York again, and that is Przemysl.
“You know that it is one of the great strategic fortifications in Galicia, and was the first real stumbling-block in the way of the Russian invasion of Austria-Hungary. When the Austrian army was crushed at Jaroslaw and retreated in disorder to protect Budapest, they asked for volunteers to garrison Przemysl. It was pointed out at that time that the town and fortress would surely be besieged, and that there was very little hope of any Austrians remaining ever escaping with his life. The orders were to hold out at no matter what sacrifices.
“Volunteers came forward a plenty. Then millions of Russians poured down around the city. These burned the town, shelled the citadel and tried actual assault. All in vain! So the Russians left three army corps of men besieging the fortress and marched on to the conquest of Hungary. Those besiegers are still camped around the brave fellows in Przemysl. Six months and more of famine rations, terrible disease and unceasing bombardment have not quenched their determination to hold out until the last man drops.
“Now, don’t you boys agree with me that a visit to Przemysl ought to prove worth while?”
“Przemysl it is then,” cried Ned. “You’re a wonderful speech-maker, Bob.”
“Quit your kidding,” grinned the newspaper man. “Also, if you really want to reach Przemysl, I’d advise you to ship our course more to the southeast.”
“Aye, aye, sir!” grinned Ned, with a mock-serious salute. “Sou’ by sou’east it is, sir!”