Then I thought of that song, “Just you, Dear, just you,” and I knew quite well that she would say that she had been giving me all this attention amidst the jealous and envious looks of my superior officers because she, herself, individually wished to and because she liked or maybe loved me. Whereupon I was going to second the motion and say, “Ditto, I love you, Eileen,” and all that sort of bunk and close the contract. I pictured myself enfolding her in my willing arms and making solemn vows such as I would stand on my ear for her, etc.; all of this, of course, being contingent upon her responding in the way I fully expected.
Smiling—her teeth reflected glory in the moonlight—she demurely asked me, “Why, don’t you know?” That would have been all right ordinarily, but it had a ringing inflection I failed to comprehend, and being a man of words instead of action, I said, “No, I don’t know.”
“Well,” she went on rather surprised at my stupidity, “you see, our manager instructed us that the higher officers do not need the attention and encouragement of the young ladies because they do not have to undergo any hardships, so we have been instructed to pay as much attention as possible to the junior officers, and as you were about the most junior here—well——”
This was sufficient. I realized that I was on about the fifty-fourth floor of the Woolworth Building and had better catch the express elevator down, for it was going to be an awful fall. I had hit the mat and was already taking the count.
“I was telling you about the inspiration,” she went on, and in a hollow voice I said, “Yes, Miss ——,” swallowing many cubic feet of chagrin and remorse, yet still determined.
“I think I have a plan for adjusting your batteries. I got the idea while I was singing to-night. Of course, I know nothing about the practical part of it, but why wouldn’t it work this way?” and she roughly described a scheme that seemed about as feasible as most military tactics that women conceive. I offered her no encouragement, but she asked me if I wouldn’t try it out and I told her I would do anything for her. It would, at least, give me some excuse for keeping in touch with her, since I could inform her from time to time how her system was getting along, and I was firmly bent, in spite of the momentary rebuff I had just received, upon knowing this charming and bewitching damsel better.
As usual, the night gave me the opportunity to calm down considerably, so the next morning I took off quite early, the same old guy as before, with no domestic worries. Eileen was momentarily forgotten—my ardor was perhaps but a passing fantasy.
At a little village several miles north of Montfaucon there is quite a fork having two roads branching off to the south and over which the Germans were passing in their forced retreat. Flying in that direction the approaching roads were dotted with scattered German transports which consisted of many horses and very few motor vehicles as the Germans were short of gasoline and what they did have of this scarce article they used for their airplanes—their general transportation work was carried on largely by horses and a more extended use of their steam locomotives and railroads. But, coming from the south were several of these convoys trudging along as fast as they could, which, at best, was very slow. This was unusual for a retreat is generally done under cover of darkness, but, I suppose this material was such that it had to be moved at all costs.
Ah! I thought, this is a splendid target. I’ll put the artillery on. So, directing the pilot to go back to our own battery, I began to make furious attempts to get into communication with our artillery, by flying low and finding the location with the naked eye.
Again my theory of the previous day seemed to be all wrong, for in spite of all I could do I couldn’t get an answer from any of our batteries. Finally, flying extremely low I found a couple of them and threw them messages. Neither of them would fire. Why? I don’t know. Perhaps they were about to move up again. However, I knew that of all of the batteries in our Division there must a few that could work. Here was a wonderful target. I was to the last straw—there didn’t seem to be anything else to do but go home, so, pretty well disgruntled I motioned the pilot to go on home. Thus, my mind being freed of the cares and responsibilities of the mission, it naturally began to turn toward the personal interests of life, and, naturally enough I thought of my recently acquired acquaintance, Eileen—and instantly I remembered her inspiration—that silly, tactical dream she had conceived the night before. I knew it was impossible to try it out as she had suggested it, but the principle had possibilities, and seemed to be worth taking a chance on. If it failed, it would do no harm, and, at least, I could give her some kind of a report.