CHAPTER II
FIRST STEPS
A month after the Brighton boys had commenced their duties at theairdrome at the old Frisbie place, they would have been missed by morethan one person about the camp if they had failed to put in anappearance some morning. It was astonishing to see how much routinework could pile up around the headquarters' offices.
The machines arrived in some numbers. One by one they were unpackedfrom their great crates and set up, then wheeled into their respectiveplaces in the broad hangars which had been built to house them.
The first one of the Brighton boys to settle himself into a regularbillet was Fat Benson. He had been watching the uncrating of box ofspare engine parts one afternoon when no specific job claimed him forthe moment, and fell into conversation with the short, stockysergeant who was to be the store keeper. The sergeant was tired andworried.
He had counted a consignment of sparking plugs twice and obtained adifferent total each time. Worse, neither of his totals talliedwith the figures on the consignment sheet. He was fast losing histemper.
Fat was of most placid, unruffled temperament. He saw that troublewas toward, and was about to walk away and avoid proximity to thecoming storm when he thought: "This may be a chance to help." Heturned and said to the sergeant: "If you like, I will count thoseplugs for you while you sort out the spanners from the other crate."
"Good boy!" at once said the sergeant. "I have got to a point wherethose little red pasteboard boxes sort of run together, and I couldn'tcount them correctly to save my life. If you can make them come outto suit this consignment number they have sent with the plugs youwill be a real help, I can tell you."
Henry set to work with a will, and not only checked the number ofspark plugs, which he found to be correct, but at the sergeant'sdirection began placing them in neat piles on the shelf of thestore-room that had been set aside for plugs of that type. He was inthe middle of this task when who should come by but the sergeant-major!
"Hello!" exclaimed that worthy, who was nothing if not a martinet, "whotold you to be puttering about here?"
Before Fat could answer, the stores sergeant spoke up. "This man isgiving me a hand, and I need it," he said. "If you don't need himfor something else to-day I wish you would let him stay with me. Iam supposed to have a couple of soldiers detailed for this job, but Ihaven't seen anything of them yet. Why can't I have this man?"
Fat seemed to grow bigger than ever round the chest as he heardhimself referred to as "this man." That was getting on, sure enough.More, he was mightily pleased that someone really wanted him.
"I guess you can have him if you want him," answered thesergeant-major. "Have you anything else to do to-day, Benson?"
"Not that I know about," was Fat's reply.
"Stay here, then, until the sergeant is through with you."
That night the stores sergeant suggested that Fat come to him nextday. The stores were just starting, and the work of setting thingsin their proper places was far from uninteresting. The boy took areal delight in his new task; and when, three days later, thesergeant-major called into the stores on his way past and said tothe stores sergeant, "Are you going to keep Benson here for good?"the stores sergeant replied without hesitation, "I sure am."
To have been among the stores from the time they were first unpacked,and to have assisted in the work of first placing them where theybelonged, gave Fat a sort of sense of proprietorship. Stores stillpoured in every day or so. The two soldiers who were to help at lastmade their appearance, but neither of them seemed to particularlyappeal to the stores sergeant, who was by that time depending morethan he realized upon the quick intelligence and persistent applicationof his big-bodied boy assistant.
Fat's prime chance came at the end of the first fortnight, when thestores sergeant was kept in bed for a few days from unusually severeafter-effects of vaccination. The pair of soldiers had not been inthe new stores sufficiently long nor taken keen enough interest inthem to be of much use except when working under direction. So thereal storekeeper was Fat for the interim. The sergeant-majordiscovered the fact and reported it casually to Major Phelps, whospoke to the colonel about it. Both of these officers had theirhands very full at that time, and both of them had felt the blessingof having the ever-ready and ever-willing Brighton boys always ontap, as it were, to run quick errands and be eyes and feet for anyonethat required an extra pair of either.
It was a source of gratification to Colonel Marker that the boys weredoing well; and that one of their number had worked his way into theorganization of the camp unostentatiously, on his own merits, pleasedthe colonel immensely. He even went so far as to stop in the storeson his way to dinner and say a kindly word to Fat, whose coat buttonsseemed ready to burst in consequence.
Thereupon Fat became a fixture in the stores, studying carefullyeverything that came through his hands, until at length he knew at aglance what each part or store might be, and whether it was in goodcondition or not when received.
The dark French boy, Louis Deschamps, was a general favorite. Somuch so, in fact that he could have had almost any job that it layin the sergeant-major's power to offer him. One day Louis casuallymentioned that he wished he could get nearer the engine work, andthe sergeant-major at once decided the boy should have his wish.
No finer fellow on the grounds could be found than the big Scot,Macpherson, who was head engine hand of the first lot of mechanicsto arrive at the airdrome. Macpherson talked little unless he wasspeaking to some prime favorite, when he became most voluble. Thesergeant-major and Mac were cronies. Consequently it took littlelaying together of heads before the sergeant-major went before thecolonel one day and asked if Louis Deschamps could be spared fromheadquarters to go and give Macpherson a hand as helper.
The colonel smiled. He knew what was in the wind. The Scot knew wellwhere he could obtain helpers in plenty if he needed them. ButColonel Marker was as ready to help the Brighton boys as was thesergeant-major, so he smilingly acquiesced, and the next morning Louiscame to camp attired in a suit of blue dungarees over his khaki.
In ten days' time Macpherson had taken the French lad to his heart,and was never so happy as when working away with him over a refractoryengine and chatting along in a seemingly never-ending stream ofengine small-talk. All of which was meat and drink to Louis, and wasrapidly acquainting him with much that it would otherwise have takenhim years of experience to acquire.
Joe Little and Jimmy Hill had a council of war with Louis Deschampsone night. These three were fast growing to be closer than brothers.What one of them had he was anxious the other two should share atonce.
"I think I can see my way to get you fellows working in the hangars,"Louis said.
"Mac will help us. I never saw such a good friend. I told him youfellows were anxious to get closer to the planes and he is turningit over in his mind. He will have a scheme soon, and when he does,it will go through all right."
Macpherson had a scheme, but just how and when to try to put it intooperation was the question. He had a talk with Parks, the headinstructor, one afternoon, and told Parks about the Brighton boysand their keenness to learn more about flying.
"You could do with those kids," said Mac "They are really too big bynow to be called kids, as a matter of fact. Why, they will be flyingsoon themselves. Why don't you ask the major if you can't have twoof them down here to help clean and tune up the school machines?It is a bit irregular, but so is their being here at all. I don'tsee why, if the Old Man can use them around the offices, we can'thave a couple of them here. I have had the young Frenchman herewith me now for some time, and he is worth a lot to me. He says twoothers, one named Hill and the other Little, want to get down tothe hangars. Be a good chap and ask the major about it."
Parks did. The major was very busy at the time, and said, "I guessso," and let the matter go at that. Parks passed that laconicpermission on to the sergeant-major, and the two boys reported toParks forthwith.
That left Bob Haines, Harry Corwin, Archie Fox and Dicky Mann atheadquarters to be generally useful. They had come to be on the bestof terms with the sergeant-major, and when they pointed out to himthat the three boys in the hangars were "having all the fun," hesuggested that he so assign them to duty that but two of them wouldbe "on" at the same time. Thus when Bob and Dicky Mann were standingready for whatever might be required of them, Harry and Archie werefree to spend their time in the hangars, where the sergeant-majorcould lay his hand on them in case of sudden calls.
Thus the summer was not far advanced before the Brighton boys werein the very thick of the flying game, not as onlookers, but as partsof the machine into which the various component parts of the campand its numerous units were rapidly becoming merged.
If they had not tried to learn, the Brighton boys must have picked upsome general information about aeroplanes and flying. With theirspecial eagerness they were rapidly becoming well acquainted withmost details of the work of the airmen. No casual word in theirhearing fell on barren ground. When one of them mastered a new idea,he passed it on to the others.
None of the boys studied the machines themselves more devotedly thandid Harry Corwin. Close application to many a dry volume bore goodfruit. He felt he could set up a Farman type biplane by himself.
One morning Harry was standing beside a monoplane of the Bleriot type,which had come from somewhere as an old school machine, and had notbeen much in demand owing to the fact that no other monoplanes werein evidence at the camp, when an army airman, an entire stranger toHarry, came out of the hangar and glanced at the engine in evidentpreparation for a flight.
The airman was about to start the engine when Harry noticed that theelevator control wires were crossed. Whoever had attached them haddone so mistakenly. Harry could hardly believe the evidence of hiseyes, yet there it was, undeniable. Stepping forward, he said tothe airman: "Excuse me, but your control wires are not right."
The flying man was little more than a novice, and sufficiently youngto resent interference on the part of one obviously younger thanhimself. Besides, he had connected up those control wires himself.He glanced hurriedly at the terminals, and seeing that they wereapparently secure, thought the boy beside him must be mistaken.He missed the crossed wires. He said to Harry, with just a suspicionof superciliousness, "Oh, she is quite O.K., thanks," and started hisengine and sprang into his seat as the plane moved off across the meadow.
Harry stood watching the receding plane with something akin toconsternation in his heart. Naturally shy, he did not think ofpressing his opinion, but he knew trouble was in store for the youngairman, though in just what form it would come he could not figure out.The monoplane had not gone far along the grass before the flier triedto raise it. As the machine did not answer properly to the elevator,he thought something must have stuck, and jerked the lever as if tofree it. Afterwards the airman was not clear as to just what happened.
Harry could see the airman was trying some maneuver, and as he looked,the plane rose nose first from the ground, almost perpendicularlyand then took an odd nose-dive head into the ground. The plane wasnot many feet from the earth when it dived, but was far enough up tocome to the ground with a bad crash. Harry could see a dash ofwhite spray in the sunlight as the gasoline splashed upward at themoment of the smash. The monoplane heeled over and the pilot wentout of sight behind the wreckage. The graceful white tail stoodhigh in air.
Running as fast as he could, Harry got to the scene of the accidentbefore the airman had risen from the ground. The strap which hadheld him into his seat had burst, and he had suffered a nasty spill.Investigation showed, however, that he was but little the worse,save for the shock and the fright. He was as pale as a sheet.Harry helped him to his feet and assisted him to take stock of hisinjuries. By the time they had discovered that no bones were brokenand the bruises the young fellow had sustained were quite superficial,Parks, the head instructor, dashed up in a motor car. As he leapedout beside the wrecked plane, there was a frown on his face. "Anothersmash?" he queried.
Harry learned later that the young airman had already smashed up twomachines that week before demolishing the old monoplane.
"What was wrong this time?" Parks spoke sharply.
Without hesitation the young pilot answered: "I must have hitchedthe old girl up wrong, some way. This friend here," nodding towardHarry, "was good enough to tell me before I started that I had mussedthings up before I got into her. I was a fool not to have listenedto him, but," and he paused, smiling, "but he looked pretty young tobe giving advice. I wish now I had listened to him."
Parks turned to Harry. "You knew where the trouble was?"
"The control wires were crossed," Harry answered simply.
"You noticed that, did you?" continued Parks. "When have you seenthis type of plane before?"
"This one is the only one I have ever seen," was Harry's reply. "Ihave read up on this type, though, quite a bit. I had a book thatcontained an awful lot about this particular sort of machine, and Icould almost put one together. It's easy enough to see crossed wiresif your eye happens to light on them."
"Yes," said Parks. "It's easy enough if you have the right sort ofan eye. That's the real question. You are one of those boys fromBrighton Academy, are you not? Are you in the same bunch that Hilland Little came from? If you are, I guess I can use you in the wayI am using them. Would you like to get some practical experienceround the hangars? You youngsters seem to be under the chief's eye,from what I hear, and I understand he wants to see you all get achance to push on."
"We all want to get into the hangars when we can be spared from ourregular work," answered Harry. "There are four of us left, at theheadquarters' offices, and whether or not they want us to stay thereI don't know."
"Humph!" Parks had not great respect for anyone around an airdromewho was not intimately connected with the actual flying. "Lot ofgood you will be doing there. If they want to see you boys amountto something, why don't they let me have a chance to see what's inyou? Fellows who know at a glance that elevator wires are crossedought to be encouraged. That's my view." Parks left the subjectand turned his attention to the bruised pilot, who came in for acurtain lecture. Harry Corwin busied himself with trying to ascertainthe extent of the damage to the wrecked plane. As Parks finishedtalking to the pilot he stepped to Harry's side and asked: "What isleft of her?"
"Plenty," said Harry. "She will need a new propellor and her runninggear is crumpled up badly, but I doubt very much if the planes aredamaged, and I don't see that the engine has suffered." Park'scritical eye ran over the wreck and he nodded. Without furthercomment he jumped into his car. As it started away he said: "Don'tbother with the old girl any further. I will send a gang out to tendto her. I will see if a chance won't come along soon to get you boysinto better jobs, if you want them."
"Want them?" said Harry. "I should think we do."
But Parks was a very busy man, and as the work at the new air campincreased he found his hands so full that his promise to Harry wasfor the time being crowded out of his mind.
The four boys held at headquarters chafed a little, but were carefulto keep the fact to themselves. Archie Fox felt it most keenly of all,for he was very fond of Jimmy Hill, and thought it hard fate indeedthat took Jimmy away from him. Jimmy was learning rapidly. He hadmade friends with one of the instructor pilots, a little man namedReece, who spent much time tuning up and going over the school machines.
Reece was never idle, never quiet. An hour in which nothing had beendone was to him an hour wasted. If he had nothing else to do he wouldgo over work just completed and make sure it had been done well. Inconsequence, Reece had few accidents, and rarely suffered delays andwaits while something was being "put right." Jimmy appreciated thisquality in Reece, and saw its results.
By tuning his inclinations and point of view with that of the instructor,Jimmy got into very close touch with the little man, w
ho was nevertired of answering questions and making explanations. Reece had beenfor some years working for one or another of the crack internationalfliers who traveled in various parts of the world. He had no ambitionto become a star himself, but knew most of the well-known airmen oftwo continents, and contained a store---house of anecdotes about themand their doings.
Jimmy always walked or rode home with Archie when he could, and muchof their time on Sundays was spent together. The colonel had fromthe first insisted that they should have the Sundays to themselvesand they had got into the habit of going to church each Sunday morningin uniform, with the army men, who always turned out in some force.Sunday afternoons generally found them at the airdrome, and oftenthey might be found at work, but they were considered free to doas they chose. These Sunday afternoons were of great value to Archie,for Jimmy Hill, whether working or not, never failed to give Archiea sort of resume of what he had picked up during the week.
One Thursday afternoon the colonel was making a round of the hangars.Archie was on duty with him, accompanying him as a sort of extraorderly, the soldier orderly having been sent to the town with a message.
As they passed down the front of the hangars the colonel turned towatch one of the pupils trying his first "solo," or flight by himself,not far away. "Handles her nicely," he said, half to himself. Then,turning to Archie, he added: "How would you like to be up there inthat machine?"
To his surprise Archie looked very thoughtful and shook his headsoberly before he replied: "I hardly know, sir."
"What!" said the colonel. "Have I found one of you Brighton boysthat is not anxious to fly?"
"I am anxious enough to fly. It's the machine I was thinking about."
"What's the matter with the machine?"
"I don't know if anything is the matter with her, but that is the oldbiplane they call the 'bad bus.' She has given more than one man aspill, sir. Everything goes well with her for a while and then sheplays a trick on someone. Last time I saw her cutup she side-slippedwithout any explanation for it. Some of us have got the idea thatshe has always got to be watched for sideslip. I would not mind goingup in her after I had learned to fly, but she would not be my choicefor my first solo."
"Bless my soul!" exclaimed Colonel Marker. "You talk as if you knewall about the different machines. You have never worked around them,have you?"
"Those of us that happen to be off duty at headquarters generally spendour spare time around the machines, and, of course, we hear the talkthat goes on. I am sorry if I have said what I shouldn't, sir."
"Tut, tut!" from the colonel. "You have said nothing wrong. You maybe quite right. I have known of machines that had bad habits, plentyof them. But if they let that lad take his solo in the machine itmust be all right."
Ten minutes later Colonel Marker was at the back of a hangar inspectinga newly arrived scout machine of a much---discussed type when he hearda shout from outside. A moment later a soldier came into the hangarand reported a bad smash. The colonel walked to the door. Thereacross the meadow, was a wrecked airplane. Men were picking up thestill form of the pilot beside it. Parks, seeing the colonel,pulled up in his runabout to take the colonel with him to the wreck.
"Looks bad, sir," said Parks. "They had orders not to let novicesgo up in that machine. I hope the boy is not badly hurt."
"Was it the 'bad bus' that smashed?" asked the colonel.
"Yes, sir. That is what some of the boys called her. She is not areally bad machine, but plays tricks."
"Did you see what she did this time?"
"Yes, sir. I was looking at her from the end hangar. I was somedistance away, but I happened to have my eye on her as she crocked."
"Did she side-slip?"
"That is just what she did do." Parks glanced at Colonel Markerinquisitively. What was the colonel driving at?
"The reason I asked," said the colonel, "was on account of somethingone of those Brighton boys remarked to me not more than ten minutesbefore the smash. He said the 'bad bus'---as he called it---side-slippedat times unexpectedly. Those youngsters do pick things up, don't they?"
Just then they reached the scene of the accident, and both of themforgot the Brighton boys for the moment.
The machine was smashed badly and the young pilot had received abroken leg in addition to a nasty shaking.
"I think I will let that plane go," said Parks as he and the coloneldrove toward the hangars. "I will just pile up the old thing and lether sit in a corner until I need her worse than I do now. She hasplayed her last trick for a while. You were speaking of thoseBrighton boys, sir. What are you planning to do with them?"
"Make flyers of them some day."
"I have three of them in the hangars now. You have one at headquartersnamed Corwin that knows a bit for a lad. Why not let me have him?"
"The four I have at the offices are really valuable, but I suppose ifthey are to learn flying they had better be with you. Can you findsomething to do for the lot?"
"I guess so. If they are all as good as the three I have alreadyI can do with them."
"Well, it's rather irregular, the whole business. But they beganwith us when we came here, and they are just the sort of stuff, asfar as I can see, that we want in this game, so the sooner we push'em along the better, I think."
Thus it was settled. The Brighton boys were one step further on theirway to membership of an air squadron at the front, far off as thefront seemed to them. With Fat Benson in the stores and the otherseven boys in the hangars, they felt themselves truly part and parcelof the airdrome. This feeling of responsibility was aging them, too.Already they looked years older, every one of them, than they hadlooked on that day in the previous spring when they had decided tostudy aeronautics in concert.
Brighton Boys with the Flying Corps Page 2
