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Connor, Ralph, Pseudonym, 1860-1937

"The Sky Pilot in No Man's Land"


The "down stream" was much the same, with here and there differences.
That stream flowed more swiftly. The battalions marched with more
buoyant tread. They had done their part and without shame. They had met
their foes and seen their backs. The trucks, transport and ammunition
wagons were empty and coming with a rush. Only the ambulances moved more
slowly. Carefully, with watchful avoidance of ruts and holes, which,
in spite of the army of road-mending Huns, broke up the surface of the
pavements these ambulances made their way. They must get through no
matter what was held up.
And as they flowed these streams ever and anon broke their banks and
flooded over in little eddies into villages and fields, there to tarry
for a day and a night, only to be caught up again in either one of those
resistless inevitable currents of war.
"Look before you, major," said Barry, who was riding with the
Headquarters Company at the head of the column, as often now at the
invitation of the O. C.
The column was slowly climbing a long gentle sloping hill that reached
its apex some two or three miles away.


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