by E. J. Craine
CHAPTER VIII
BOMBING THE BRIDGE
"Tom, we've done it!" Jack shrieked, when he saw the enemy Gotha planetake a sudden significant dip and flutter downward like a stricken bird.
Evidently a shot more fortunate than any that had preceded it hadstruck a vital part of the rival craft, putting the motor suddenly outof repair.
When he felt his plane begin to crumple up under him the Hun pilot hadcommenced to strive frantically to recover control. Jack, horror-strickenby what was happening, leaned over and watched his struggle, which heknew was well nigh hopeless from the beginning.
Still the German ace made a valiant effort to avoid his fate. He could beseen working madly to keep from overturning, but apparently his hour hadstruck, for the last Jack saw of the beaten Gotha it was turningtopsy-turvy, falling like a shooting star attracted to the earth by thelaw of gravitation.
That affair being over, Jack, breathing hard, now allowed himself to paysome attention to what was going on in other quarters. At the same timehe proceeded to introduce a fresh belt of cartridges into the hungry mawof the machine gun, in case they were forced into another engagement.
Above them the battle still raged, though of course Jack could not decidewhich side might be getting the better of it. His interest focusedchiefly on the bombing machines, which he found were now far away, movingalong in erratic courses as their pilots strove to get in exact positionfor a successful blowing up of the bridge.
Jack could count only three of them. Unless the fourth had wandered farafield it looked as though disaster had overtaken its crew. No matter,even such a catastrophe must not deter those remaining from seeking byevery means in their power to reach their objective.
Even as he stared downward Jack saw another of those brilliant flashesthat proclaimed the bursting of a bomb. He felt a sense of chagrin stealover him, because so far no explosive seemed to have succeeded inattaining the great end sought. The bridge still stood intact, ifdeserted, for he could catch glimpses of it when the smoke clouds weredrifted aside by the night breeze.
Fires were now burning in several quarters, started undoubtedly by someof the bombs that had missed their intended objective. These lighted upthe scene and gave it a weird, almost terrifying aspect as witnessed fromfar above.
All at once Jack saw some bulky object pass between their machine and theground below. It must be the missing bomber, he concluded, though therealization of the fact made him thrill all over in admiration of thenerve of those who could accept such terrible chances.
Yes, despairing of getting in a telling blow at such a height, thereckless crew of the big Yankee plane had actually dropped downuntil they could not be more than a thousand feet from the earth.And now they were speeding forward, meaning to test their skill atsuch close quarters.
Not being able to make Tom hear his voice, Jack gave the other a tug, andso managed to call his attention to what was passing below. Just in timedid Tom look, for at that very moment there came another of those amazingbrilliant illuminations, and the dull roar greeted their ears a fewseconds afterwards.
They saw with staring eyes the air filled with the material that had onceconstituted the wonderful bridge, across which day and night theretreating Huns were taking their valuable guns and stores. A brief spaceof time did the scene bear the aspect of chaos, and then, when the smokecleared sufficiently for them to see, they looked upon a void where thebridge had stood.
Jack fell back appalled, yet quivering with deepest satisfaction.Their raid would be one of triumph, since the main object had nowbeen achieved.
Hardly had he allowed himself to exult after this fashion than Jackdiscovered that Tom seemed to be greatly agitated. So he once more lookeddown, filled with a sudden fear lest the gallant fighters in thatadventurous bomber had paid dearly for their success.
He immediately saw that his alarm was not groundless. The big Yankeeplane must have been struck in some vital part, for it was rapidlysinking as though doomed. Jack's only consolation lay in the fact thatthe crew seemed to be in better luck than those of the stricken Gotha;for they managed to keep from turning turtle; and unless striking theground with too great violence might yet come out of the affair alive,even though finding themselves prisoners of war.
Tom was already striking for the upper levels. He saw that the otherthree bombers had also commenced to climb, since their mission was nowcarried out, and further risks would be only a needless hazard. Then,too, the crews of the battle Gothas, realizing that they had failed tosave the bridge, concluded to withdraw from the combat, leaving theAmericans to make their way back to their starting point, victorious andrejoicing.
Yes, there was the signal flashing from the plane of the commander, whichmeant that the raiding squadron should assemble above the reach of thecrackling shrapnel, and prepare in a body for the homeward journey.
A sense of exultation, mingled with sincere thankfulness, gripped thehearts of the two Air Service Boys as they realized that the peril wasnow really a thing of the past. The homeward trip would be a merebagatelle, for surely no Huns would venture to attack them while on theway. By exercising good judgment they ought also to keep above the reachof those elevated anti-aircraft guns along the front hills.
Now Jack remembered the temporary blinding sensation. He found oninvestigating that he had been near a serious accident, since a passingbullet had grazed his head, cutting the skin and causing quite a copiousflow of blood.
"What's happened to you?" called out the alarmed Tom, on seeing that theother was binding his handkerchief about his head.
"Another scratch, that's all," replied Jack, as though that were only amatter of course, to be expected when modern knights of the upper aircurrents sallied forth bent on adventure. "A miss is as good as a mile,you know, Tom. And I guess I have a hard head in the bargain. It's allright, nothing to worry over. Fortunately it didn't strike me in theface, and mar my beauty any."
Jack could joke under almost any serious conditions; but Tom feltrelieved to know the worst. They were at the time back again in theirappointed place, tailing the procession.
Counting again as best he could, Jack discovered that there were onlyseven of the battleplanes in the double line now. It looked very much asthough the loss of the big bomber was not the only penalty they had paidfor their daring raid. But no doubt the story would all be told after theflight was over and the various pilots and observers could get togetherto compare notes.
Again were they subjected to a bombardment when they sailed over theGerman front lines; but this time, taking a lesson from their previousexperience, they maintained such an altitude that no shrapnel was able toreach them.
Shortly afterward, and one by one, the battered Yankee planes dropped onthe open field where the hangars lay, like huge buzzards alighting tosatisfy their hunger in an orgy.
The first thing Tom did when he and Jack found themselves again on theirfeet and the waiting mechanics and hostlers looking after their plane,was to reach out and seize upon his chum's hand.
"We've got good reason to congratulate ourselves on coming through thatnasty business so well, Jack," he said earnestly. "If you look at ourmachine you'll see how near we came a dozen times to cashing in ourchecks. They knocked us up pretty well, for a fact."
"I should say they did," admitted Jack, as he examined the various marksshowing where the Hun bullets had punctured different parts of the wings,or struck the fuselage, narrowly missing both the motor and the partlyprotected petrol supply tank.
They lingered around for a full hour, there was so much to talk about asthey gathered in groups and compared experiences, as well as commented onthe possible fate of their fellow aviators who had failed to return.
In spite of the loss incurred, the achievement accomplished was of such acharacter as to fill them with pardonable pride. No member of thathistorical night raid, whereby the retreat of the Germans was so badlyhandicapped by the loss of the big bridge, would ever have cause to blushfor his part i
n the bold undertaking.
Finally the two chums, finding themselves exhausted and in need ofsleep, broke away from the chattering throng and sought their bunks inthe former Hun dugout. All was now silence around them, the enemybatteries having ceased sending over even occasional shells; and theywere able to enjoy a few hours of rest undisturbed by having the roof oftheir shelter damaged by a chance explosion.
On the following morning the advance was resumed, the same tactics beingemployed that had met with such success all through the Argonne. Whereverthey discovered that machine-gun nests had been placed these were"mopped-up" by surrounding them, and then attacking from the rear, whilethe attention of the defenders of the stone house, or it might be awindmill foundation, was gripped by a pretense at frontal assault.
Those who had participated in the air raid on the bridge were given a dayoff, so as to recuperate. They felt that they deserved it, for thedestruction of that bridge was apt to be a serious stumbling-block in thepath of the retreating Huns, one that might cost them dearly in the wayof prisoners and lost artillery.
Jack utilized this opportunity by striving to learn important facts inconnection with the matter that was weighing so heavily on his mind. Heabsented himself from the dugout which the air pilots continued tooccupy and which they disliked giving up until assured of some otherhalf-way decent billet in a village that might be abandoned by Fritz whenfalling back.
Of course Jack had to have his slight wounds attended to, and in order tomake sure that he had not neglected this before going off, Tom, duringthe morning, found it absolutely necessary to wander over to the fieldhospital, where of course he looked up Nellie.
Really it took almost a full hour for him to make all the inquiries heconsidered essential; and he might have consumed a still longer timebut that there was a call for the nurse's services, and she had toexcuse herself.
"Never mind," said Tom grimly to himself, as he made his way back to theold dugout, "it was well worth the walk. And Nellie is looking fine, fora fact. They call her the most popular nurse at the front, and I've heardfellows in plenty say that if ever they got knocked out by Hun bulletsthey'd want nothing better than to have her take care of them."
He did not find Jack anywhere around when he got back, nor had those heasked seen anything of him since early morning. Of course Tom knew whatit was that engaged the attention of his comrade, and he only hoped Jackmight not meet with any bad luck in his endeavor to learn something ofthe movements of his cousin, Randolph Carringford.
Then came the afternoon. From indications Tom fancied that would be theirlast night in the old dugout. The Huns were still falling back, and wordhad been going around that by another day the Yankees would undoubtedlyoccupy the village that lay just beyond the hills where the burstingshrapnel had ascended on the occasion of the passage of the air squadron.
It was about four o'clock when Tom sighted his chum. Jack's face wasgloomy, and he lacked his customary sprightliness of walk.
As he came up he tried to smile, but it was a rank failure.
"Well," he said disconsolately, "the very worst has happened, Tom.I've managed to get word after trying for hours, and have learned thatmy cousin sailed yesterday from Havre. He's beat me to it, and I'velost out!"
