d this wasn't a joy-ride?"

The revving motors drowned out all other sounds. Helmets were given a
last minute tug.

McGee looked along the line and lifted his hand. The nine others chosen
for dawn patrol signaled their readiness.

Out came wheel chocks, motors roared into the smooth sound of ripping
silk as one by one they lurched down across the field and took the air.

The heart of every man in the flight, save McGee's, was racing in tune
with his motor. Here was a mission so much more exciting than any dawn
patrol.

Harass the advancing enemy! And their line of supplies! Storm down and
spew out lead on the bridges where the troops would be crossing! Here
was action of the highest order, in which, in all probability, formation
flying would be broken up and it would be every fellow for himself.

McGee alone knew the danger and hazard of their mission. In a big push
the enemy planes would be out in great number, determined to sweep the
air free of resistance. To harass troops, McGee knew, they must fly low.
In so doing they would run a constant gauntlet of machine gun and rifle
fire, in addition to frequently traversing the line of flight of high
angle heavy artillery. It was not pleasant to think of meeting up with
one of those big G.I. cans loaded with enough high explosive to
demolish a building. Just get in the way of one of them and what would
be left could be placed in a small basket. Added to all this was the
fact that all altitude was sacrificed, and a green pilot, out cutting
eye-teeth, needs altitude in case of attack.

To McGee the outlook was gloomy enough. Doubtless the venture would run
up a stiff casualty list, but every needed sacrifice must be made here!
And now! The French and Americans below must not let the Hun break
through. Paris, all too near, was the objective of the drive. If they
broke through and reached Paris--well, they must not break through!

McGee saw the planes of another American squadron working up toward the
front on his left. High above his flight was a large group of French
Spads. He watched them, turning his head aloft from time to time. They
seemed to be hovering over him and following his course. Far ahead, and
below, he could see enemy observation balloons straining at their
cables. Black geysers of earth, sand, and mud, were spouting from the
tortured strip along the river. The earth below was an inferno of
flashing, thundering shells. The front! And the drive was on!