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They had been buried months ago yet now they flew war skies, corpses
that could not be killed. Any yet for every resurrected Boche, a Yank
died -- mysteriously, terribly.  Who were these ghastly aces? How could
=G8 and his buddies hope to fight a staffel recruited from the dead?

The powerful hand of big =BullMartin trembled a little as he held down the
message. Men came running down the tarmac of =LeBourget field.
It was dusk. The sound of a roving German Mercedes motor faded in the
distance to the north. And the Fokker that had dropped the unbelievable
message vanished into the darkening shadows.

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So the master spy, deep in a haze of uncertainty went to bed for the two
hours that remained of the night. For some time he rolled and tossed restlessly,
then finally fell asleep.
When he awoke, a dim light was streaming through the windows. He had nearly
overslept.
He shouted to =Nippy and =Bull, hurried into his clothes and pressed the button
on the wall four times -- a signal for the ships to be warmed.
=Nippy and =Bull came hurrying out of their bedrooms, pulling on their clothing.
=Battle opened the kitchen door cautiously and blinked there in his nightshirt.
"I say, sir, will you have breakfast before you go?"

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"Good morning, =G8," he said. "You -- you look as if you had seen a ghost."
"I have," =G8 said. "Or at least, the nearest thing to one. As a matter of fact,
I don't know but what I would prefer a ghost."
The general frowned in perplexity.
"Well," he said, "I don't believe I have ever seen you worked up so much about
anything before. This must be serious."
"I'll say it's serious," admitted =G8. "Read this."
He handed the general the note that had been dropped from the enemy plane, last night.
As the general scanned it his perplexity deepened. He became very grave.
"What in thunder is the meaning of this," he demanded, looking up?  "This white magic
and black magic and bringing men back to life?"

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They drew nearer those planes of destiny. Three Spads and four Fokkers. =G8 had slipped
the glasses down into their case by his side. He crouched over the stick, ready. A glance
behind him at =Nippy and =Bull, who rode on either side of his tail, told him they
were ready, too.
Planes hurling at each other at almost =300 miles an hour. =G8 couldn't catch the slightest
hint of nervousness on the part of any of the four Fokker pilots. They sat motionless in
their cockpits. Their blurred, glassy eyes stared straight ahead of them through the
windshield.
=G8 knew that he and his Battle Aces were facing a great test. These four Germans -- =Munz,
=vonBach, =vonKlingen, and =Wolffson -- had all been famous aces.


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"=G8 speaking," the master spy said tensely.
"I have just heard," the general said in a voice that shook with emotion. "Four
men, =G8."
=G8 gripped the phone harder.
"Yes," he said?
"Four men," the general repeated. "The best of the =113th. They are in the field hospital.
They are dying. And the men at the front."
"Yes, general."
"They are becoming almost unmanageable. I'm -- I'm afraid we're in for it."
For a long moment =G8 didn't answer.
His brain was spinning like a top. "At the =113th," he repeated in the mouthpiece.
"Why that was where."
He broke off suddenly. Tried to make his voice more confident and assuring.
The old war-dog was pretty badly shaken.

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Then something happened that changed everything. =G8's heart leaped and so did his hopes.
That last wild burst from =Nippy's guns had accomplished its purpose.
The corpse nearest him flopped suddenly, like a stiff rag-doll. The head dropped,
swung like a pendulum. For a moment it hung there, then it disappeared into the cloud.
A wild surge of excitement rushed over =G8. There were wires then! This thing wasn't
so supernatural. They must find out more.
He banked over and begun to climb. The light of the fires was growing dim, but =Nippy and
=Bull could still see to follow him. Higher and higher he thundered around the edge of the
cloud. There was moonlight up there that the cloud didn't hide.

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Not a sound came back to him. It was as though he were alone in the barn.
"I said," did you get it," he repeated?
"=Sh," =G8's voice hissed. "I heard something. Listen."
The three aces tensed. From outside, to the south of the shack, came very faintly
the snapping of twigs and the sound of guttural voices.
=Bull whispered in the darkness.
"They're on our trail. Let's ambush them."
"No," said =G8. "I think I have a better way. We'll hide. If we ambush then the gun fire
will attract more Heinies. We'll be in a sweet jam if they surround this wood and start
closing in on us. We won't have a chance."
"Hide," exclaimed =Bull in a low voice? "Hide where? In a drinking trough?"

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The car bearing =Nippy and =G8 started off the way =Bull's car had travelled. Already that first
car was out of sight.
In spite of all his frantic hopes, =G8 had a lonesome feeling. It didn't help any, either,
when he heard =Nippy's voice, hoarse and choked.
"So long -- =Bull -- see you in Hell."
About two kilometers up the road, the car turned to the left. It rolled on for a way then
stopped. =G8 couldn't see just where they were, because of the blinding flashlights which
watched their every move.
Germans were standing on either side of the car. Two guards, Lugers held ready, were on
the back of the front seat, facing them. No quarter here, no chance of escape.
Then guttural voices sounded from the dark, back beyond those flashlights. The guards
seized the Yanks and lifted them out of the car. As the lights shifted,
they saw that the car had stopped in front of the large stone building. Men lined a
passage up to the front door.

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Instantly =L11 had hold of =vonUhlman's legs while =G8 had him under the arms. They carried
him noiselessly away from that spot. Far away in the opposite direction from the drive and
the chateau.
Then, when they were well screened by a hedge, they laid him down. Swiftly, with the help of
=L11, =G8 began stripping off his own clothing and exchanging it for that of Kapitan =vonUhlman.
He was working like lightning. There was no time to lose. The car was waiting for =vonUhlman.
=G8 would have to take his place.
The name of that general was written indelibly on =G8's memory, the general that =vonUhlman
mentioned as he came out of the chateau.

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Below shouts and curses came to them. Pandemonium reigned in the vault.
Then, suddenly, =G8 heard the voice of big =BullMartin. It was =Bull who had seized him and
was carrying him upstairs.
"Holy Herring," =Bull growled! "Stop your squirming and hang on. It's only me trying to get
you out of this. If those birds down their catch you, they'll cut your heart out and eat it
for a grape!"
The instant =G8 heard that deep voice he stopped struggling. In the darkness just below he
could see another figure. A small one.
Then he saw the form silhouetted in a flashlight that flared. That was =Nippy. He was following
up the stairs, close on =Bull's tail.