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were outclassed and to boot, MacClures machine gun jambed after he'd fired three shots. The pattern of his gun was too plainly evident to my keyed up eardrums. Above the roar of my exhaust I had the uncomfortable feeling that some Hun had got on my tail and was peppering my way. I switched about and peered around in vain but saw nothing to show cause for my nervousness.

After a time of looking over shot up trenches - just like the war pictures - such a disappointment - Put began to chink and I endeavored to follow. My carburetor refused to answer my coaxings however, and the revs