The Boy Volunteers with the French Airmen

by Lillian Elizabeth Roy

  CHAPTER VII

  BOUND FOR VERDUN

  For three days more the boys wandered about Paris,--three days of themost fearful suspense; and then began the battle of the Marne. Everyairplane in and about Paris was at the front, on the line somewhere, andthe boys were deprived of the opportunity to see the new friend they hadmade at the Bois de Boulogne station.

  They were so sure of being able to go to Verdun that Albert wrote to hisfather of their plans, in the hope that he would consider it wise toleave Switzerland for that point, where they might meet.

  The Germans had been defeated; Paris was safe, the French line havingheld firmly all the way to Verdun. The determination to go there wasfirmly fixed in their minds, but they could see no way to accomplish thepurpose. A visit to Tom at the hospital only resulted in their beingtold that the lieutenant was in the field, no one knew where.

  "I have an idea," said Ralph, as they emerged from their room onemorning.

  "What is it?" asked Alfred.

  "We might get attached to the Red Cross some way, and that would besure to take us to the front," replied Ralph.

  "That would be just as hard as to get in with the flying people,"answered Alfred.

  "That may be so, too, but I can't see any other way."

  They again called at the Continental Hotel in the hope that there mightbe some further news. To their surprise they found a letter fromAlfred's father with a check for their personal expenses. While readingthe letter they overheard a conversation which gave them the solution,as they thought, of their difficulties.

  "No," said a voice, "they will not ticket us to any point near thefiring line, but we might go to St. Dizier, and from there work our waynorth."

  "Good idea; let's book at once," said the second voice.

  "Come on," said Alfred. "That's the right tip. Let's find out where St.Dizier is."

  The clerk informed them: "It is about a hundred and sixty miles east ofParis."

  "Then it can't be far from Verdun," remarked Alfred.

  "Sixty miles southwest, I should judge," was the answer.

  "Do you think we would have any trouble in reaching that point?" askedRalph.

  "I think the trains are still running, but they may not adhere to theregular schedule. The line runs south of the war zone, you know," saidthe clerk.

  That settled it. They hurried to the Banque Francaise, and havingsecured currency for the check, started for the booking office as fastas they could walk. It was impossible at this time to get a conveyanceas only the underground railways and a few tram cars were in service,the government having requisitioned all the horses, and automobiles aweek previous to this time.

  They booked second class, the official stating that the tickets weresold at the risk of the holders, and that they would have to take theirchances on the trains, so they were at the eastern railway stationbefore one o'clock, in the hope that the regular through train at twothat day would be able to accommodate them. In this they weredisappointed, so they waited about until five o'clock, and had the goodfortune to have the tickets accepted by the gateman.

  They passed through an immense crowd of newly arrived soldiers, and werejostled about by hosts of men, women and children who were departing forthe southeast, most of them bound for Chaumont. Within an hour theyfinally found a train bound for their destination, but it was anotherhour before the train began to move.

  The trip was a weary one all through the night, as they seemed to stopat every station, although it was the fast express. The intenseexcitement of the people all along the line; the passing of trains; thecrying out of the latest news; and the bustle of the new arrivals in thealready crowded compartments, made sleep impossible. The sun had beenup two hours before the station of St. Dizier was announced.

  The boys were out and scampering along the platform ahead of most of thecrowd. As they passed out the end of the station they noticed a sign ona train: "For Bar-le-Duc, 10 o'clock."

  "Let's see where that place is," said Alfred.

  The information was obtained. It was twenty kilometers northeast.

  "That's the place we must go; it's twenty miles toward Verdun, and nowis our time," said Ralph.

  "Let's have something to eat first," said Alfred.

  After the meal they booked for Bar-le-Duc, and this train startedpromptly. Only two coaches were reserved for civilians, the others beingfilled with soldiers. The town, which was reached shortly before noon,had the appearance of an armed camp. Here they received the startlingnews that the Germans were at St. Mihiel, thirty-five miles northeast ofthat place.

  There was no sign of panic there, however. Verdun, Toul and Nancy werestill intact, and there was no fear that either place would yield.

  Before they had been in the city an hour they saw a dozen or moreairplanes overhead, and it was not long thereafter until they learnedthat one of the most famous stations belonging to the flyers was locatednorth of the place. A conveyance was readily obtained, as a line ofbusses paralleled the railway track, and in another hour they were onthe plateau where the great hangars were located.

  As they were crossing the field, and approaching the first tier ofhangars the boys noticed the two men whose conversation had beenoverheard in the Continental hotel. "They are the very men," saidAlfred; "I wonder what they are here for?"

  The men stopped and looked at the boys for an instant. Ralph approachedthem and said, with a smile: "You beat us here after all."

  The men appeared to be puzzled at being thus addressed. Alfred saw thatthey did not understand Ralph's greeting, and said: "We are underobligations to you for telling us how to get here, and I want to thankyou."

  "I don't exactly understand," said one of the men.

  "We heard you talking about making this trip, and as we wanted to get tothe front without knowing just how to do it, your conversation helped usout," said Ralph.

  "I'll bet you're American boys," said one of them, laughing.

  "Indeed, we are," said Alfred.

  "Belong to the service?" asked the other.

  "Oh, yes," answered Ralph,--"that is, we did belong to it."

  "Which branch?" asked the man.

  "Messenger service in Belgium, aviation and trench service with theEnglish, and Red Cross in the French army," answered Alfred.

  This response was answered by hearty laughter on the part of both men,and one of them responded: "That is a pretty comprehensive service, Ishould say."

  "Where are you from?" asked the other.

  "New York," answered Ralph. "Why, you look like Americans, too."

  "We're from the same place," was the answer.

  "And you look like newspaper men," remarked Alfred.

  "That's a good guess," was the reply. "But how did you know?" he asked.

  "I saw you taking notes as we walked across the field," answered Alfred.

  "Good inference," he replied. "Are you looking for a job?"

  "Yes, we're going into the aviation service," answered Ralph, with allthe assurance of a winner.

  "See you again," was the final reply, as the two men left them.

  "Now, I wonder if they have any American flags at this place?" remarkedRalph.

  They marched back and forth without a sign of that much desired emblem.At one of the hangars two men were tugging at a machine, and slowlybringing it out of the hangar. Without a word the boys sprang forwardand assisted in the operation, an act which brought thanks from the men.Then, more in curiosity than anything else, they slowly walked aroundthe machine and examined its construction.

  The aviator watched them for a few moments. Evidently, to his mind, theboys knew all about flying machines, or, at least, must have had someacquaintance with them. This seemed to interest him, and he began aconversation with them. He soon learned their history, and bestowedwords of praise on them for what they had done.

  "So you want to be aviators, eh?" he inquired.

  "Yes, and we'll do anything to get in," said Alfred.

  "To be av
iators in the service of the Government it will be necessary totake the Regulation course," said the man.

  "There isn't time for that," said Ralph. "We can help out now, even ifwe don't do any flying, can't we?"

  The man chuckled. "I suppose you can tighten up bolts, examine, andstretch the stay wires, and things like that?" he remarked.

  "As well as take out the engine and overhaul it," added Ralph.

  "Well, yes; that's a pretty good job; do you think you could do that?"he asked.

  "Why, yes; we know something about it," replied Ralph.

  "Well, stay around here; we want some handy fellows; but I'm afraidyou'll have a hard job to get on the pay roll," he added.

  "Never mind about that end of it; we want to be doing something; that'sthe main thing," said Alfred.

  It would not be interesting to go through the long details of work thatthe boys entered into under those circumstances. Each day for more thantwo months the boys found plenty of work to do. They became generalfavorites at the camp, and while their services were not recognized inan official way, as the regulations did not permit of the employment ofminors, still, in view of the fact that they had such an interestinghistory, and had entered into the work with such zest the commandant atthe station permitted them to remain, and eventually provided them withrations and quarters, to which was added a small pay, such as attachedto those in the messenger service.

  During this period the boys had many opportunities to go aloft onpractice drills, and on more than one occasion they had the privilege ofoperating the machines while in flight, accompanied, of course, by theregular pilots. Attached to the station were a half-dozen machines usedfor the purpose of teaching control, and to enable pupils to becomefamiliar with the handling of the machines. They were designed merely toskim the ground, the power being so limited that they could not beraised from the ground except for very short glides. These the boysfrequently used, and the experienced aviators were greatly pleased attheir wonderful progress. It was a strict rule, however, that none butregularly licensed aviators should pilot the government machines, andthat prohibited them from handling the machines on regular service.

  It was during the second week of the third month that the boys had thefirst opportunity of showing their capabilities. During a trial flightwith sub-lieutenant Guyon, while at an altitude of five thousand feet,Ralph noticed the machine dart downwardly, and, glancing back, sawGuyon's head fall forward, and his hand drop from the lever.

  Without waiting to inform Alfred he crawled out of the pit, and seizingthe control lever, pushed it back in time to bring the ship to an evenkeel. Alfred saw the motion, and followed Ralph. Together they succeededin drawing the pilot to one side, thus enabling Ralph to let himselfdown into the position which enabled him to handle the lateral controls,that were operated by the feet.

  With Ralph thus fully in control of the machine, Alfred turned hisattention to poor Guyon, who tried to raise his head, and occasionallygasped, as though trying to recover his breath. It was not until themachine was nearing the earth that he opened his eyes, and seemed torealize his position, but he was too weak to give any instructions orrender assistance.

  Ralph made a good landing, and the moment the machine ceased to moveAlfred jumped from it, and ran to the office of the surgeon.

  "Something is the matter with the lieutenant!" he cried, as he enteredthe door.

  "What is the trouble? Where is he?" asked the surgeon, as he moved outof the door in response to Alfred's appeal.

  "He was taken sick while we were in the air," said Alfred.

  "And how did you happen to get down safely?" asked the surgeon.

  "We took charge of the machine," replied Alfred.

  "Who are _we_?" he asked.

  "Ralph and myself; we were up with him."

  The lieutenant was being taken from the machine when the surgeonarrived. Restoratives were at once applied, and within a half hour theattack seemed to wear itself away, and he began to show a normal color.

  His eyes rested on Alfred when he awoke from the first quiet nap, andraising his hand approvingly said: "That was a good job, Alfred;couldn't have been better."

  "What do you mean?" asked Alfred.

  "You brought us down all right, I mean," he replied.

  "Oh, Ralph did that," was the reply of Alfred.

  "Well, no matter; you fellows didn't get rattled; that's the mainthing," said the lieutenant.

  An incident of this kind could not remain a secret long in a camp ofthis character. The Commandant took particular occasion to commend themfor their performance, and it was a long step in their favor when thecorps moved to the north to take its place in the great aviation campdirectly south of Verdun.