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[[underline]] Tout? May 26, 1918. [[/underline]] 

Going back to the mess at mealtime during my shot at guard duty I learned the astounding news that we were to "move up". The announcement of this fact set the boys on itchy ground and spirits ran high. Later in the day the adjutant burst into the barracks in a flourish and [[strikethrough]] announced [[/strikethrough]] let it further be known that we had machines, equipment, and aerodrome waiting for us - and that the machines were to be the latest type of [[underline]]Spad.[[/underline]] The bunk-house was immediately a Winter-garden setting with bright lights, good cheer, and high kicking much in evidence. It is peculiar how two or three days at the loafing made us doubly eager to join the rest of the crowd; we were an impatient lot and, I suppose, unreasonably so, for here we are jumping into the thick of it among the first hundred or so American aviators; we trained by a roundabout method, yet we're way ahead of many of our less fortunate