“Could you send word back that I am alive?” asked the hurt man eagerly.
“I guess that can be arranged through the Allied airmen,” answered Dave. He knew that there was an unwritten law among all the fliers of the various nations that word concerning any airman who was killed, injured, or captured, should be carried over the enemies’ lines by means of a note dropped from some flying machine.
“If that is done I shall be very, very grateful,” said Heinrich Eberhardt. “I want my brother Fritz to know that I am alive.”
Presently the stretcher-bearers came into view, and Dave saw to it personally that the captured German received proper attention. Then the aviator was taken away.
“Not a half bad sort,” was Roger’s comment, when he and the others were making their way back to the engineering camp.
“They’ve all got the same idea regarding the United States,” answered Dave. “They think it’s impossible for Uncle Sam to get a big army over here. They won’t believe the story that we already have over a million men in the field.”
“And another million or two on the way,” added Phil.
“Well, it’s a tremendous undertaking,” broke in Ben. “Think of sending so many men as that on a sea voyage of three thousand miles, and then taking care of them after they arrive!”
“It is a big undertaking,” said Shadow. “And it’s no wonder that it takes billions of dollars to do it.”
“It must be exciting to be an army aviator,” continued Dave. “Far more exciting than being just an engineer.”