Air Service Boys Flying for Victory; Or, Bombing the Last German Stronghold
friction, and no confusion. Each pilot and observer knew exactly what he
was to do, and every possible situation had been taken into
consideration.
Then came the initial firing.
It seemed that one ambitious Boche airman, unable to wait until the
oncoming Americans reached the formation arranged to resist the
onslaught, had flown ahead and was now exhausting his puny reservoir of
missiles against the solid phalanx.
The clatter became a roar as several of the raiders turned their guns on
the incautious Hun. Immediately his voice was stilled, and the
flittering light dropping earthward, after the manner of a falling
rocket-stick, told what had happened to him.
Before he landed his machine had burst into flames, as the escaping
petrol caught fire. Jack considered that a good omen for their side.
"Fritz seems to be getting a rough deal on this particular night," he
told himself. "Already three of his planes have been destroyed, and
several others have gone down out of control, with never a single loss
on the side of the Americans. Bully!"
But now the advance had reached the marked line where the rest of the
Huns waited to engage the invaders. If they were dismayed by the tragic
fate that had overtaken that rash pilot they did not show it, for they
attacked with a viciousness that Tom had never seen equalled in all his
experience as a flier.
It was undoubtedly desperation that spurred the Boche on. He knew that
these wonderful Americans, who his leaders had ridiculed in the
beginning, were foes not to be despised; that they had almost taken the
entire Argonne; that they had actually threatened to commence the
long-talked of march on to Berlin.
So they attacked with fury, and the engagement soon became general.
Right and left there was continual firing going on, as the giant planes
wheeled and circled, shooting out flaming tongues like so many blast
furnaces in action.
The formation was not broken even then, each battleplane continuing to
cover its individual bombing plane with the shelter of its wings, so to
speak, though at the same time fighting off the aggressors.
Of course the bombers were also fitted to ward off attack, each being
armed with two machine-guns, one forward, and the other aft where the
man who handled the bombs could manipulate it. Slower and much less
agile than the fighting planes, they were expected to defend themselves
but not to attack.
The advance had slowed up, but not entirely stopped while the battle was
joined. As yet no bomb had been slipped from its leash, for the right
moment still held off.
Looking down Jack could see where the searchlights that sent such
broadening streamers aloft were stationed. He could also make out a dim
pile that must be the German fortress, strengthened particularly to hold
up the Americans, even as that at Verdun had held up the Huns.
Let the "Archies" bark below and the shrapnel burst all around them as
it pleased, no one in all that vast armada of the air was paying the
slightest attention to such things. They all, in their carelessness of
danger, seemed to themselves impervious to the storm of flying missiles.
The slower-moving bombing machines bore the brunt of this furious
onslaught, and Jack could tell that the wings of their plane were being
cut by the bullets.
It was almost a miracle that so far no one aboard any of the ten big
planes seemed to have been struck; or if such a thing had happened the
injury did not appear to be serious. They continued to move forward as
if all the Huns in Northern France, backed by every sort of gun that
could hurl shrapnel aloft, would not be sufficient to stay their
progress.
Presently, however, the formation was broken at a signal. To try to
maintain it any longer would be little short of suicidal, for the
gunners below were getting their range better, and the bursting shells
came alarmingly close now.
Tom kept his eyes constantly about him. Each bomber tried to keep at a
given altitude in making the evolutions, since in that way they were
better able to avoid a collision that would be fatal to both machines.
At last Tom caught his signal and as he headed straight for the spot
over the fortress he gave Jack the sign. The bomb slipped from its
sheath, and was instantly lost to sight in the smoky atmosphere below.
Already they had had their ears shocked by numerous discharges, as
others among the Americans shot their missile earthward. It was terrible
to look down at that crisis in the attack. The whole world seemed on
fire beneath them, what with the exploding bombs and the myriad flashes
coming from the German guns at work.
Jack was disappointed because in this vast inferno he found it utterly
impossible to tell where his special messenger struck. He knew, though,
that he had been in a fair position for a hit when given the word, and
on that account never found any reason to doubt but that it had given a
good account of itself.
After delivering his fire Tom swept off to one side so as not to
interfere with another bomber who might occupy a higher level, and be
advancing to the attack.
Presently when the turn of the air service boys came again they would be
ready to send down the second "bundle of concentrated destructiveness";
and later on there might be a "clean-up call" that would exhaust the
stock carried by each plane.
Meanwhile, given a chance to look hastily around at other factors
connected with the extensive engagement, Tom discovered that there had
been at least one victim besides the initial one.
A plane was dropping swiftly, swinging this way and that, turning over
and over, and showing signs that the pilot's hand no longer controlled
the levers. He was unable to make out whether it was an enemy plane or
one of their own convoy; but the doom of those who happened to be belted
to the seats was undoubtedly sealed.
CHAPTER XVIII
FAVORED BY FORTUNE
THE Huns soon discovered that they were up against an intrepid enemy.
When they so boldly attacked the Yankee fleet of raiders, as Jack
expressed it in his boyish way, they had "bitten off more than they
could chew."
They had dropped back a bit and were trying to annoy the Americans all
they could with as little damage to themselves as possible. If their
last stronghold was doomed to destruction under that rain of mighty
bombs, any self-sacrifice on their part could not ward it off, and so
what was the use?
The end seemed to be approaching, for the Boche plainly showed he had
had enough of the fighting. One last combined attack all along the line
that would likely put the enemy to flight, and then for the signal that
would spell "homeward bound," a magical phrase with voyagers of the air
just as it is with sailors of the salty seas.
Finally it came. The great battle was over.
The air service boys rejoiced that the victory was won.
The roar of guns from below had ceased, and as the Yankees above could
not find any enemy plane against which to pit their strength, they, too,
no longer scurried this way and that, each one like an avenging Nemesis.
Looking down Jack was appalled at what he saw. It seemed almost as
though the end of the world had come. Huge volumes of acrid smoke slowly
swept along on the night air, with here and there a lurid tongue of
angry flame, looking like a serpent's tongue, stabbing the gloomy
curtain.
He had seen vivid pictures in colors of an eruption of Vesuvius, and to
his mind this presented just such an appalling spectacle. There could
never be any doubt regarding the awful power of those latest of Yankee
bombs. The German stronghold that an hour before had stood in arrogant
pride, meant to be a stumbling block in the path of Pershing's
victorious army, had been so shattered that it would hardly be noticed
in the general advance of the oncoming host of boys in khaki.
But there was the signal to gather once more in formation of twos for
the homeward journey. There would always be a chance that the furious
Huns might gather a fresh force of aerial fighters to make one last
assault on the columns before admitting defeat; and it was to be ready
for this that every possible precaution must be taken.
Then the fact became apparent that the return was not to be made with an
undiminished force. There were no longer exactly twenty planes to fill
out the double column. Some were missing, having fallen in the last
desperate attack of the foe, when a perfect whirlwind of fighting had
taken place.
Tom noticed this almost immediately. At least one battleplane was
absent, if not more, and the companion bomber that had occupied with
them the place of honor at the tail of the procession also failed to
come to its place. Perhaps the very plane he had watched drop and
wondered about was one of these missing ones.
Jack, too, looked down upon that vast smudge of smoke and shooting
flames with a new feeling gripping his heart. It no longer represented
merely the disappointed hopes of a Hindenburg and a Ludendorff; it was
not to be considered only a fortress annihilated by American pluck and
ingenuity; there was a sadness in Jack's parting look now, and for a
reason. Down there brave American boys had gone to their fate, after
battling to their last breath for the right. In that blanket of smoke
and amidst scattered stone and timbers they had found their tomb, nor
would those loved ones far across the sea ever know where to look for
their last resting place.
On the roll they would be marked simply as "lost when on perilous duty",
and that brief inscription must ever be their epitaph. None more
glorious was ever inscribed on monument of granite in a city's beautiful
cemetery; and the Nation would always do honor to their memories.
But the air armada was off once more.
Jack put these thoughts from his mind. They had not expected to carry
out their ambitious plans without incurring losses. The price had been
paid, and those who came through in safety might congratulate themselves
on their good fortune.
Headed for the home camp they left that shambles behind them, for it
seemed certain that many Huns must have perished when the fortress was
destroyed so completely.
Then all at once Jack remembered something. Tom had almost as much as
promised that if half a chance arose while on the way home he meant
somehow or other to get "lost" from the main column.
It might not be very hard, seeing that they came at the tail of the
procession, and those just ahead would hardly notice the fact if at some
time or other they should lag, and vanish from sight. It might be taken
for granted that they had simply fallen a little behind, and by putting
on a spurt of speed could at any time easily catch up.
At any rate the expedition would not delay, waiting for those who
tarried. In an affair of this kind the rule was "every tub on its own
bottom," and if accidents occurred the unfortunate plane must drop out,
and take its individual chance of getting through in safety.
Jack was wondering just how his chum would act in order to bring about
this separation. Hence he was not greatly surprised when Tom called out
aloud, so that he could make his voice heard above the incessant whirr
of motors added to the buzz of many propellers that filled the air with
noise:
"Jack, something seems to be wrong with our engine."
"You don't say!" ejaculated Jack, accompanying the remark with a wide
grin; for he suspected that this was only the ruse he had been
anticipating.
"I don't seem to be able to get along as smoothly as I did before,"
continued the pilot.
"Why, it's a fact that we are letting the others outrun us some, Tom.
Wouldn't it be just too bad if they went off and left us in the lurch?"
"No joke about it, Jack. Something is really going wrong, and I imagine