“Correct, old chap.”
“And, after all, it certainly did mean an astonishing sequel.”
And so speaking, Bobby chuckled mirthfully.
Several weeks later, in the spacious grounds of a chateau occupied by the military authorities, a lively and spectacular scene was being enacted. Soldiers were drawn up in a hollow square. And there, where danger did not exist, could be seen all the pomp and pageantry of warfare, so lacking in the actual operations. The warm, clear sunshine shone on generals’ uniforms, on military motor-cars and on high-spirited horses, champing at their bits.
And besides the military there were present a few men in civilian dress, the most prominent among them being an extremely ponderous man with a most beaming face whom all the former students at the École Militaire de Beaumont recognized as old Père Goubain, the proprietor of the Café Rochambeau.
What was the occasion of all this festivity?
It was because a number of airmen, Red Cross ambulance drivers and soldiers had so distinguished themselves as to earn the gratitude of the French Republic that they were to be awarded the Croix de Guerre and other decorations.
Among those who were recipients of the War Cross were Don Hale and T. Singleton Albert. It was Don Hale’s feat in saving the Caudron photographic machine and his subsequent destruction of the observation balloon which had brought him the coveted honor.
And after a general had pinned the Croix de Guerre to his breast and the proceedings were over the first to shake his hand was old Père Goubain.
“Ah! La France can never lose with such young men as you enlisted in her cause,” he exclaimed. “And now, mon ami, what are your plans?”