Excerpt from Stories Without Women (and a Few With Women)
The burly sergeant of sappers gave the propeller a few violent twists, and jumped quickly to one side. The propeller revolved with a weird flapping that turned to a quick, loud hum and then to a buzz as of a myriad hornets. A little bugler ran alongside for a few yards; then the biplane rose.
From the firing-line a mile and a half ahead the rifles sounded like the ripping of a gigantic piece of silk. Orderlies' horses drummed the ground on their way to and from the commander-in-chief's headquarters. The report of the nine-inch gun burst like claps of thunder. As the biplane passed, a squad of artillerymen looked up and cheered. From one hundred yards below their cheer resembled the thin shouting of boys.
Stanton looked at his pilot, huddled over the steering-wheel. In his thick woollen hood he had the appearance of an immense grey rat. The aeroplane went up steadily like a mounting bird.
They were to reconnoitre the enemy, whose position they were attacking, and report by wireless. They were to make a general reconnaissance of the firing-line and of the reserves, and to find out where the definite intrenched works lay.
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