The Brighton Boys with the Flying Corps | Page 8

in the way of learning as much as you can about the air
service."
That was their beginning. They saluted, every one, turned smartly and
filed out. Bob Haines, the tallest of the group and the acknowledged
leader, was the only one to answer the colonel. Bob said, "Thank you,
sir," as he saluted. They looked so strong and full of life and hope that
the tears welled to the colonel's eyes as he watched them tramp out of
his room. He had seen much war, had the colonel. "It's a shame that
such lads will have to pay the great price, many of 'em," he sighed,
"before the Hun is brought to his knees. But it's a fine thing to be a
boy." The colonel rose stiffly and sighed. "I would give a lot to be in
their shoes, with all the hardship and horror that may lie in front of
them if this war keeps on long enough," he mused to himself. "It's a
fine thing to be a boy."
Out went the eight Brighton boys to the sergeant-major, their work
begun. They too felt it a fine thing to be boys, though their feeling was

just unconscious, natural, effervescent---the sparkle of the real wine of
youth and health and clean, brave spirit.

CHAPTER II
FIRST STEPS
A month after the Brighton boys had commenced their duties at the
airdrome at the old Frisbie place, they would have been missed by
more than one person about the camp if they had failed to put in an
appearance some morning. It was astonishing to see how much routine
work could pile up around the headquarters' offices.
The machines arrived in some numbers. One by one they were
unpacked from their great crates and set up, then wheeled into their
respective places in the broad hangars which had been built to house
them.
The first one of the Brighton boys to settle himself into a regular billet
was Fat Benson. He had been watching the uncrating of box of spare
engine parts one afternoon when no specific job claimed him for the
moment, and fell into conversation with the short, stocky sergeant who
was to be the store keeper. The sergeant was tired and worried.
He had counted a consignment of sparking plugs twice and obtained a
different total each time. Worse, neither of his totals tallied with the
figures on the consignment sheet. He was fast losing his temper.
Fat was of most placid, unruffled temperament. He saw that trouble
was toward, and was about to walk away and avoid proximity to the
coming storm when he thought: "This may be a chance to help." He
turned and said to the sergeant: "If you like, I will count those plugs for
you while you sort out the spanners from the other crate."
"Good boy!" at once said the sergeant. "I have got to a point where
those little red pasteboard boxes sort of run together, and I couldn't

count them correctly to save my life. If you can make them come out to
suit this consignment number they have sent with the plugs you will be
a real help, I can tell you."
Henry set to work with a will, and not only checked the number of
spark plugs, which he found to be correct, but at the sergeant's direction
began placing them in neat piles on the shelf of the store-room that had
been set aside for plugs of that type. He was in the middle of this task
when who should come by but the sergeant-major!
"Hello!" exclaimed that worthy, who was nothing if not a martinet,
"who told you to be puttering about here?"
Before Fat could answer, the stores sergeant spoke up. "This man is
giving me a hand, and I need it," he said. "If you don't need him for
something else to-day I wish you would let him stay with me. I am
supposed to have a couple of soldiers detailed for this job, but I haven't
seen anything of them yet. Why can't I have this man?"
Fat seemed to grow bigger than ever round the chest as he heard
himself referred to as "this man." That was getting on, sure enough.
More, he was mightily pleased that someone really wanted him.
"I guess you can have him if you want him," answered the
sergeant-major. "Have you anything else to do to-day, Benson?"
"Not that I know about," was Fat's reply.
"Stay here, then, until the sergeant is through with you."
That night the stores sergeant suggested that Fat come to him next day.
The stores were just starting, and the work of setting things in their
proper places was far from uninteresting. The boy took a real delight in
his new task;