ade man to his own image, but
the German recreated him in the form of a Diesel engine."

No one questioned the efficiency of the German machine. The Allies were
disputing its right to go on destroying.

[Illustration: "The New Arm."--Chapter IV.]

CHAPTER IV.

The New Arm.

"It strikes me that these fool commanders don't know what to do with us.
We aviators seem to be too new to come into all their stunts. Here we've
been flying over eight years, and we're still novel enough to be
repeatedly fired on by our own side. Why the beggars in our own battery,
when they see an aeroplane overhead in their excitement let fly. They
don't bother to notice that the plane of our Bleriot hasn't claw ends
like the enemy's Taube. Neither do they note we carry our own
distinguishing mark. We're the circus show. We're the 'comic relief'
sure."

He was about to spit his disgust on an unoffending fly, but quickly
changed his mind.

He was a Yank from the U.S.A. Military School at San Diego, and "hiked
over the pond as there was nothing doing."

In appearance he was tall and wiry with a thin face and hooked nose that
suggested the bird-man. His name on the roll was Walter Edmund Byrne,
but his bony appearance won him his nickname--Nap.

We knew nicknames would shock those who stand for the rigid rule of
military discipline, but aviators clear the usual wall of demarcation
between officers and subordinates. A nod supplants the "heels together
and touch your cap."

The Aviation Sections seemed to be communistic concerns, in the air rank
being only recognised by achievement. In fact, the new arm was too new
to be brought under the iron rule of military etiquette or into most
Operation Orders. I told Nap as much.

"Yes," he said, "I guess we're too new. Even when cannon first came into
war it was novel enough to fire as often from the wrong end and teach
things 'to the man behind the gun'; but I've a bit of dope here that
ought to be pasted into every book of your field service regulations,
and every officer ought to repeat it before breakfast three times a
week. It's the flyers' creed."

Fumbling amongst some newspaper scraps in his note book, he produced
this bit of verse.

The snake with poisoned fang defends
(And does it really very well).
The cuttle fish an inkcloud sends;
The tortoise has its fort of shell;
The tiger has its teeth and claws;
The rhino has its horns and hide;
The shark