by E. J. Craine
CHAPTER IX
THE NIGHT RAID
"IT struck me," exclaimed Harry, amidst the Babel of sounds that hadbroken out all around them, girls and soldiers chattering like magpiesin concert, "that most of the explosions came from over where ourhangars are strung out! Yes, there they start up gain! Boys, I tell youit's a big raid on our aviation camp! Let's chase over there!"
They all seemed of one mind, for hardly had Harry shrilled thisproposition than the three of them bolted from the exit of the hut andcommenced a mad dash through the intervening woods, heading for theopening utilized by the air squads for their canvas hangars. Thesuccessive bursts of flame accompanying those frequent explosionsbenefited them in one way, since they were enabled to see fairly welland thus avoid pitfalls, although once or twice there was a grunt as amember of the group struck some obstacle which he had not noticed soonenough.
It did not take them long to cover the intervening ground, for by raregood luck the rest-house of the Y. M. C. A. happened to be withinreasonable reach of the aviation field.
A new development in affairs had by then taken place. There was a rattleof machine-gun fire from high up in the air that seemed very significantto the Air Service boys.
"Some of the fellows were on the ground--went up--engaged the Boche! Oh,boy, how I envy them!"
Jack gasped out these words as he ran on. He was short of breath, or hemight have said more. The others did not reply, partly for the samereason, and then again because of similar views. Knowing the intrepidnature of the boys so well, any one of their friends would have feltconfident that both Tom and Harry were feeling jealous of those whomfortune had picked out to shower favors on by allowing them to be thefirst aloft and after the Boche. But now they had reached the field.
Everything seemed in the greatest confusion there--men dashing this wayand that, yelling, asking questions, giving orders to hostlers, gettingmachines ready for flight, preparing to go aloft to share in the pursuitof the enemy planes.
There had been some damage done, Tom could see; just how much it wasimpossible for him even to guess. But several bombs had struck closeenough to smash a number of planes, as the debris scattered arounddisclosed. Great was the relief of the three pilots on learning thattheir machines had not been in the list of those scrapped. It might havetaken many days before they could be supplied with fresh "mounts," suchwas the demand upon the cargo space of the French railway leading tothis sector of the front. That would surely have been considered littleshort of a calamity by such ambitious fighters as Jack Parmly, TomRaymond, and Harry Leroy.
"No observer on hand, Jack. Would you mind going up with me?" Tom calledout almost immediately.
Nothing would please Jack better than being once more the flyingcompanion of his dearest comrade. To get a chance at the German airmenhe stood ready to accept any position offered him. And, besides, hewould have the handling of one gun, at any rate.
"You'd better believe I will, Tom!" he cried excitedly. "Harry, there'syour assistant, with your plane ready. Get going, fellows!"
The racket still continued above, though with a fresh American air pilotleaving the ground every quarter minute the chances were the Huns wouldsoon conclude that their usefulness was past in this neighborhood, andrun for home like a herd of wild horses in full flight.
Both boys earnestly hoped the fight would carry on until they had beengiven a chance to get in a few shots, even if prevented from bagging anygame.
"Those Huns must be taught that it isn't going to be a safe thing forthem to come knocking at our door under the belief that no one is athome, and pickings will be easy," muttered Jack.
Away they sped, mounting from the ground as soon as free. Yet Tom knewbetter than to take too many chances. Night flying was always bound tocarry more risk than when the daylight held good; so it would be theutmost folly to increase the peril in any unnecessary way.
It was a time when a pilot had full need of every faculty. To the rightof them came flashes of flame accompanied by the spiteful crackle ofgunfire. Rival marksmen were trying to riddle one another, sometimesflying perilously close in their eagerness.
Great shapes were coursing this way and that like giant bats. Now came adazzling flash from far down below. The Huns had not as yet entirelyexhausted their supply of bombs, and were endeavoring to make every shotcount before turning homeward.
Tom fancied he could locate the Hun machine from which that bomb hadbeen shot downward like a projectile from a catapult, passing through atube with a forward slant in the bottom of the big bombing plane.
"Over to your right, Tom!" shrieked Jack just then, showing that he,too, had guessed the same thing, for already was the pilot in the act ofswinging around in that direction.
The Boche must have sensed their coming, for he started to flee; butthey were on his trail almost immediately, going like the wind. Tomopened on him, as he had charge of the bow gun. He worked the mechanismwith all his old-time skill, not showing signs of any undue haste orexcitement. When in the course of the chase he found that he was gettinga bit too close, for the bullets were cutting the air all around them,he changed his direction.
Nor was Jack at all slow to seize upon the splendid opening which thisfresh maneuver afforded him. He took up the refrain just where Tom leftoff; and, if anything, showed more vim in his bombardment, for he didnot have the manipulation of the plane to interfere with his work withthe gun.
The Hun dived and squirmed, in the hopes of throwing off such apersistent pursuer, but Tom kept after him as if grimly determined tobring one of the night-bombers down, even if he had to follow the otherto his own line.
That sort of excitement was meat and drink to those daring fellows, wholived in anticipation of engaging in just such combats. Tame indeed didthat day seem to them upon which they could not exchange shots with atleast one enemy pilot.
Some one had met with disaster over to the left, for Tom saw a flash ofdescending flame and had a vague view of a figure jumping hopelesslyfrom the doomed plane, having found means to cut loose from his safetybelt. It was only "jumping from the frying pan into the fire," however,for death in another form awaited him, the ground being a quarter of amile below.
At one moment it happened that both boys were firing together, theposition of the Yankee plane allowing this unusual demonstration. And asto which of them was responsible for the bullet that sent the Bochedownward in erratic circles, like a wounded duck, he trying desperatelyto gain an even keel before it was too late, was always fated to be alittle bone of contention between Tom and Jack.
