, wrecks in the path of war, keep alive their spirit and
courage by jesting over the grimest tragedy that had ever entered their
lives. And then they would take up rollicking marching songs, or sing
dolefully, "I wanta go home, I wanta go home."

Invariably, when some chap began a narrative of the prowess of his own
company or regiment, the others would begin singing, tauntingly:

"The old grey mare she ain't
what she used to be,
She ain't what she used to be,
Ain't what she used to be.
The old grey mare she ain't
what she used to be
Many years ago...."

It wasn't really fun, it was only the pitifully weak effort to meet
suffering, loneliness, homesickness and fear with bravado.

There is no one in all the world more lonely than a soldier in a
hospital. Time becomes what it really is, endless, and without hope of a
change on the morrow.

And the pay for it all was a gold wound chevron to wear on the sleeve,
or a dangling, glittering medal testifying to courage and sacrifice!

CHAPTER XI

The Ace and the Spy

1

So slow was McGee's recovery that it was the middle of September before
he received his final discharge from the hospital and was given orders
to rejoin his old squadron, now operating in the St. Mihiel salient.
Three days prior to his release the American Army, operating on a purely
American front, had attacked the Germans in the St. Mihiel salient with
such determined vigor, and the entire preparation conducted with such
successful secrecy, as to take the Germans by complete surprise, overrun
all opposition and recover for France many miles of territory long held
by the invaders. Thousands of prisoners, and arms of all calibre, were
captured in the swift stroke, and all France was ringing with praise of
the endeavor.

News of the progress of the battle reached McGee just before his final
discharge. He entertained high hopes of rejoining the squadron in time
to participate in the feast of victory, but by the 15th, three days
after the battle was begun, the salient had been pinched out and the
battle won.

On the 16th, when McGee reached Ligny-en-Barrois, which had served as
General Pershing's field headquarters at the beginning of the operation,
he found that his squadron had been withdrawn from the sector and sent
somewhere else.

Where? No one seemed to know. Furthermore, no one seemed to care a great
deal. A pilot lost from his squadron, or a soldie