Air Service Boys Over The Rhine; Or, Fighting Above The Clouds

by E. J. Craine

  CHAPTER XV

  THE PICKED SQUADRON

  "All ready, Jack?"

  "Just a moment, Tom. I want to go over my struts and wires to make sureeverything is taut. I don't want any accidents."

  "That's right. Got plenty of ammunition drums?"

  "All I can carry. I've got some tracer bullets, too."

  "That's good. Glad you reminded me of them. I must put in a stock. Thelast time I went up I wasted a drum before I got my man."

  Tracer bullets for aircraft guns, it might be observed, are balls offire which enable the pilot to see the course his machine gun bulletsare taking, so he may correct his fire.

  "Well, how about you now?" asked Tom, as he added these useful suppliesto his ammunition.

  "I guess we're ready to start," replied Jack.

  They climbed into their machines, each pilot using a single-seat,swift-flying craft, equipped with a Lewis machine gun. The squadron wasgoing out on patrol duty, and each pilot was to observe what he couldbehind the German lines, and come back to report--that is if he did nothappen, as was too often the case, to be bagged by a German flier. Thesmall, swift machines did not carry the wireless outfit, and no reportscould be sent back to headquarters save those the pilot himself came inwith.

  There was a rattle and a roar as the motors of the ten machines started,and then over the ground they went, "taxi fashion," to get the necessaryspeed to rise into the air. A moment later all went aloft, and wereheaded toward the German lines.

  Tom and Jack kept as close together as was safe, but it is dangerous fortwo aeroplanes to approach too closely. If they do, and are not undergood control, there may be a suction created that will cause acollision.

  "Well, I hope I get one to-day," thought Tom, as he manipulated his "joystick," so as to send his plane up on a sharp slant. "I want to makegood, and then I'll have so much better chance to get after that Germangun." And the same thought was in Jack's mind.

  The squadron was to remain aloft on a two-hour patrol, that is unlesssomething should occur to make it advisable to remain up longer. Thekeen eyes of Tom and Jack, as well as those of their companions of theair, were searching for signs of the Hun planes. As yet none were insight, but it would not be long before they would come out to givebattle.

  Whatever else may justly be said about the Germans, their airmen are nocowards, and, when conditions are favorable, they seldom decline achance to combat above the clouds, or lower down. So it could easily beguessed that when Tom, Jack and the others found themselves over theGerman lines that the Boches would be out in force.

  Somewhat off to the left Tom caught sight of a captive German balloon,looming through the mist, and as it is always the desire of a Frenchflier to destroy one of these, thus preventing the observer from sendingby wireless news of the Allied front, he started for this enemy. Jacksaw his friend's act, and, desiring to aid, turned his machine in thesame direction.

  But they had not gone far before they observed a number of black specksin the sky over the German lines.

  "The Huns are coming," reflected Tom. "Now for some hot work."

  And it came to him, to Jack, and the others, almost before they realizedit. Tom never got a chance to attack the balloon he hoped to force todescend or to set on fire, for his attention was taken up by two Germanmachines, which, separating from the others, headed straight for him.The lad gave one glance in the direction of Jack, and noted that asingle Hun craft was about to engage with his chum.

  "It's a regular German circus," thought Tom, referring to the number ofhostile craft. "They delight to go out in numbers."

  By this time the battle in the air had begun. It was a fight above theclouds, for both the French and the German machines were flying high,and had gone up above the bunches of fleecy vapor that now hid theground from sight.

  Tom headed straight for one of the Hun machines, seeking to get aboveit, always a point of vantage in an air battle, and as he rushed on herealized that his machine was being hit by bullets from one of the Hunguns.

  Each bullet, as it struck, made a loud noise, as it punctured thetightly-drawn linen that covered the wings. But Tom knew that his craftcould stand a number of such holes, if only the struts, the supports,and the guy wires were not broken. He had no time, now, to note whatJack or his comrades were doing, for his whole attention was taken upwith the two Hun machines engaging him.

  One seemed to be more skillful than the other, and to this one Tom gavehis attention first. He emptied a stream of bullets full into thisflier's craft, noting, after the first few bad shots, which he couldtell by the tracers, that he had perfect range.

  Guiding his craft with one hand and his feet, Tom worked the Lewis gunwith his other hand, and he had emptied a whole drum at the daring Hunbefore he had the satisfaction of seeing the machine crumple up. Tom'sbullets had struck some part that had caused the wings to collapse, andthe airman went down to earth, his craft out of control.

  But matters were not to go easy with the American. The other German wasnow in a better position for getting Tom than the latter was for pottinghim, and Tom felt a stream of bullets flying around him. One chipped hisgun, and another grazed his cheek, the close call making his heart standstill for a moment. But he never faltered.

  "I've got to get above him," Tom thought fiercely.

  He made a risky spiral turn to one side, and began to mount, seeking toget in position to fire to better advantage. It was touch and go for awhile, and he felt, rather than heard, his craft receive severalbullets.

  "If only the gasolene tank isn't hit," thought Tom.

  But good fortune in this respect was with him, and he got in a positionwhere he could point his machine (and the gun at the same time, for thisis how the guns are aimed in the single aircraft) at the Hun flier. Andthen Tom sent forth a rain of bullets.

  For a moment they seemed to have no effect, and yet Tom knew he had shotstraight. Then, even while he felt a sharp pain in one hand, showingthat he had been hit, he saw the other machine start down in a spinningnose dive. That meant he was going downward head first, and at the sametime spinning around like a top.

  This spinning nose dive may be intentional or accidental--that is, withthe machine in control, or out of control. The spinning nose dive wasdiscovered by accident, but is now part of the regular flying features,and is often used by aviators to escape from an enemy.

  It is almost impossible to hit a plane doing a spinning nose dive, andif an aviator is over his own lines he may be able to come out of itbefore he reaches the ground, and so be safe. Many German planes haveescaped in this way, and often a French airman has thought he has senthis enemy down disabled, when, as a matter of fact, the other has merelyadopted this ruse to get away.

  "Well, I don't know whether I got him, or whether he got frightened andwent down to fool me," thought Tom. "Anyhow they're both out of the way,and I can go after the balloon."

  But Tom could not, for two reasons. One was that the wound in his handwas bleeding profusely, and he knew it ought to be attended to before hewas incapacitated. Another was that the balloon was being hauled down,and as more French planes were in the air now, making a number superiorto the Huns, the latter turned tail and retreated.

  It was inadvisable to follow them over their own lines now, and thesquadron, or what was left of it, began to retreat. Tom noted theabsence of three of the French planes, and among the missing was Jack's.

  "I wonder if they got him," Tom mused, his heart becoming like lead. Hiseyes sought the air about him, but Jack's machine, which carried alittle United States flag where it could easily be seen, was not insight.

  It was impossible to get any information up in the air. Tom would haveto wait until they got back to the aerodrome. And he put on speed to getthere the sooner, in order to end his suspense.

  "And the other brave fellows--I wonder what happened to them," musedTom. In his worry over the fate of Jack and the others he scarcelyminded the pain in his hand.

  He made a good
landing, but being rather weak and faint from loss ofblood, he scarcely heeded the congratulations of his comrades, who hadreceived word, by telephone from the front, of the fate of some of theHun machines. "Where's Jack?" Tom gasped, while a surgeon was putting abandage on his hand.

  "Right here, old scout!" came the unexpected answer, and Jack himselfstepped out from amid a throng of airmen. "Why didn't you wait for me?"Jack went on. "I was coming back."

  "Coming back? Did you come down safely?" asked Tom, beginning to feel alittle better now. Then Tom realized the futility of his question, forwas not Jack there in the flesh?

  "Of course I came back, old scout," was the answer. "I had hard luck,though, but I'd have gone up again if they'd only waited for me."

  "What happened?" asked Tom.

  "Oh, just after I potted my man--or at least sent him down out ofcontrol--I got a bullet through my gasolene tank. Luckily it didn't setthe petrol on fire, but I knew I'd better not take any chances. I triedto plug up the puncture with some chewing gum, but it wouldn't work.Guess the gum they sell now hasn't as much old rubber boot stock in itas it used to have. Anyhow it was leaking like a sieve, and I had tohead for our lines."

  "Tough luck!" consoled Tom. Jack did not add that he had, as soon as helanded, got into another machine, and was about to go back and join hiscomrades when they returned, having practically won the battle above theclouds.

  Congratulations were extended to the members of the squadron, whoaccepted their honors modestly enough, as was characteristic of them.

  Then, after Tom's wound had been dressed, and he and Jack were talkingover the events of the day, there came a communication from thecommander of the air division in that sector. It was an order calling oncertain men to report at once for special duty. A picked squadron was tobe detailed for a hazardous enterprise, it was said.

  "And our names are there!" cried Jack. "Tom, old man, we're going!"

  "But where is it?" asked another American flier named Boughton. "What'sthe game?"

  Knowing the secret would be safe with him Tom said:

  "We're going to pot the big German cannon that's bombarding Paris!"