hot down while he was up spotting artillery fire.
Naturally, I began to try to get in. I had to put over a fast one on the
examining board, but I made it. And here I am at last, with my own
countrymen. Top hole, isn't it?" His smile was so genuine and compelling
that none could doubt the sincerity of his pleasure. All barriers of
restraint were broken down. This chap actually courted conversation.

"Why don't you get repatriated, Lieutenant?" Yancey asked.

"The tactless fool!" Hampden thought, but dared not say. Of course the
Texas clown would rush in where angels feared to tread. Didn't the
fathead have any conception of pride of uniform and pride in a nation's
accomplishments? Hampden felt that he would like to hit Yancey with one
of the water carafes.

"What's that? Repatriated?" McGee repeated. "How can that be done?"

"Haven't you seen the General Order providing for it?" Tex continued,
despite Major Cowan's silencing frown.

"I'm afraid not," McGee replied. "I've been pretty busy--and I don't get
a great thrill out of G.O's. Tell me about it."

"Well--" Yancey began slowly, enjoying to the fullest the opportunity to
provide information uninterrupted, "as you know, a lot of Americans
joined the English and French air forces before we came in. Some of 'em,
just like you, maybe, had a sort of score to settle. But I reckon most
of 'em went in because it offered something unusual and a lot of
thrills. Huh! You tell 'em! Then when Uncle Sam got warm under the saddle
and came hornin' in, a lot of the boys who'd come over and joined up
began castin' homesick glances back in a westerly direction.
Natural-like, Uncle Samuel is willin' to welcome home all his prodigal
sons, if he can get 'em back, and he's specially forgivin' considerin'
that his army at the beginnin' of hostilities is just about one day's
bait on a real war-like front. As for flyers, he hasn't got enough of
'em, trained, to do observation work for an energetic battery of
heavies. So he makes medicine talk with Johnny Bull and with France, and
for once he comes out with all the buttons on his trousers. They agree
to release all the Americans servin' under their colors who express a
desire to get into O.D. under the Stars and Stripes. 'Repatriation' was
the flossy name they gave it, but I call it homesickness. A lot of the
wayward sons jumped at it quick, and we're 'way ahead on the game, any
way you look at it. Now take some of those boys in the Lafaye