The boys thought that no place had ever appeared so attractive as the field kitchen, with its soup boiler and its oven on wheels. And the cooks were more than kind. It was well known that the colonel had favored attention to his young friends.
Relieved of hunger and thirst the boys hunted up their old friend, the teamster, and he provided them with blankets and a comfortable nest under cover of a supply wagon.
The next morning the boys expected an after-breakfast summons from the colonel, but there was no call for them from headquarters. Fierce fighting was going on in the valley town of St. Mihiel, on the right bank of the Meuse, and, in viewing the conflict from the hillside point, the boys were thrilled by a moving picture that would have commanded a fortune in the films.
The town on which the war plague had fallen is on the site of the ancient Abbey of St. Mihiel, and the tide of this day’s battle surged about the noted Church of St. Mihiel, containing that fine statue of the Madonna, by the great artist, Richier, and also the choir stalls world-famed for their beauty.
Henri and Reddy took it as a personal grievance that these things should be threatened with destruction.
“I’ll just tell you what,” suddenly declared Billy, breaking a long silence on his part, “I’d like to be the aviator who makes the first flight across the Atlantic, and especially if I could start to-day from this side!”
“And leave me, Billy?”
Henri had applied the tonic that Billy needed.
“Not this day, or ever, Buddy. It was only this war business that set me dreaming of better days. On to Paris, old chum, you and I!”
Billy was himself again.