CHAPTER VI
THE FIGHT IN THE AIR
The morning on which the Brighton boys left the base airdrome withtheir squadron saw the first sunshine that that part of France hadknown for several days. The line of light motor trucks which servedas their transport skimmed along the long, straight roads as if awarethat they carried the cavalry of the air.
"France is a pretty country. I had no idea it would look so much likehome. Those fields and the hills beyond might be right back where wecome from, boys," said Archie Fox.
"Wait till you youngsters get up a bit," advised a companion who hadseen the front line often before. "You will see a part of Francethat won't remind you of anything you have ever seen!"
In spite of that mention of the horrors that they all knew war hadbrought in its train, it was hard to imagine them while swingingalong at a good pace through countryside that looked so quiet andpeaceful. The line of lorries slowed down for a level crossing,where the road led across a spur of railway, and then halted, thegate-keeper having blocked the highway to allow the passing of a stilldistant and very slowly moving train. The gate-keeper was a buxomand determined-looking French woman of well past middle age, whoturned a deaf ear to the entreaties of the occupants of the leadingcar that the line of trucks should be allowed to scurry acrossbefore the train passed.
As the boys sat waiting in the sudden quiet, Picky Mann said quietly:
"We are getting nearer. Listen to the guns."
Sure enough, their attention drawn to the distant growling, the dullbooming of the detonations of the high-explosive shells could bedistinctly heard. War was ahead, at last, and not so very far aheadat that. Not long after, the squadron passed through a shatteredFrench village.
Every one of the boys had seen pictures in plenty of shell-smashedruins, but the actuality of the awful devastation made them holdtheir breath for a moment. To think that such desolate piles ofbrick and mortar were once rows of human habitations, peopled withmen, women and children very much like the men, women and childrenin their own land, sobered the boys.
Soon Bob Haines drew the attention of the others to captive balloonsalong the sky-line ahead, and finally the Brighton boys saw a blacksmudge in the air far in front. It was a minute or two before theyrealized that they had seen their first bursting shell.
The leading car turned sharply off the highway into a by-road at rightangles to it. A hundred yards further it dashed through a gap in atall hedge, and as the line of trucks followed it, they emerged upona great flying field.
There, ahead, were still the captive balloons, straining at theirleashes probably, but too far away to show anything but the generaloutline of their odd sausage shapes. Ahead, too, was the boom ofthe guns. No mistaking that. Their aeroplanes were to be the eyesof those very guns. They knew that well. The front line was upthere, somewhere. Their own soldiers, their comrades, were in thatline. Perhaps some of them were being shelled by the Boche guns atthat very moment.
"Beyond our lines," they thought, "come the enemy lines. Soon, now,very soon, some of us will be flying over those lines, and far backof them, perhaps."
To the credit of the Brighton boys, every one of the six of them felta real keenness to get to work and take his part in the great game.They had waited long and worked hard to perfect themselves for thetasks that lay ahead of them, up there with the guns and beyond.There was no feeling of shrinking from the awful reality of actualwar, now that it came nearer and nearer to them. They were of soundstuff, to a man.
The wooden huts that were to be their homes for a time were clean anddry, and the big barn-like hangars that stood near had a serviceablelook about them. The level field that stretched away in front of thehangars was dotted here and there with a dozen planes, couples of men,or small groups, working on each one. Before they realized it theywere a part of the camp.
Immediately after dinner the flight commander sent for them andprovided each of them with a set of maps. All the next morning theypored over these, consulting the wonderfully complete set ofphotographs of the enemy country which could be found in the photographdepartment of the airdrome.
Practice flights took up the afternoon, and Joe Little and Jimmy Hilltried to outmaneuver one another at fairly high altitudes.
More than once Joe managed to get his machine-gun trained directon Jimmy, but finally Jimmy side-looped with extraordinary cleverness,dashed off and up while still inverted, then righted suddenly andfound himself "right on the tail" of Joe's machine, i.e., behind Joeand above him, in the best possible position for aeroplane attack.Joe had looped after a short nose-dive, hoping Jimmy would be belowhim when he pulled up, but the odd inverted swing upward that wasJimmy's star turn had found him in the better position when theduel ended.
As the boys landed the flight commander walked toward them. Theystepped from their machines and came in his direction, laughinglydiscussing their mimic battle. As the flight commander drew near, hebeckoned to them.
"Do you do that regularly?" he asked Jimmy.
"Yes, sir," was Jimmy's reply.
"Has it ever appeared to damage your planes?"
"No, sir. Not that I am aware."
That was all. Just a casual question from the chief. But it madeJimmy feel that he was not so much of a novice as he had felt before.He felt that he was more "part of the show," as he would have put itif he had been asked to describe his feelings.
Jimmy was the first of the Brighton boys to take part in a real fightin the air. A couple of days after his arrival at the airdrome hewas assigned to duty with an experienced aviator named Parker. BothParker and Jimmy were to be mounted on fast, agile machines with verylittle wing space, which, with their slightly-curved, fish-like bodies,had the appearance of dragon-flies with short wings.
"These wasp-things are great for looping," said Parker to Jimmy. "Youcan throw them 'way over in a big arc that lands you a long distancefrom where some of these Boche fliers expect you to be when you finishyour loop."
"What is the game we are to tackle?" asked Jimmy.
"Just hunting, I think. The Boches seem to have become a littlebolder than usual during the last forty-eight hours. Two of theirobservation planes came unusually close to us yesterday. I supposethey may have received orders to spot something they can't find, andit is worrying them a bit. I guess the chief is going to send us outtogether to see if we can bag one of their scout planes. Theirhunters will be guarding. It is better to go out in twos, if not inlots, along this part of the line. As a matter of fact, it is morethan likely that some German on a new Fokker or a Walvert is sittingup aloft there like a sweet little cherub and laying for us. Theyhave a nasty habit of swooping down like a hawk when we get well overtheir territory and firing as they swoop. If they get you, you dropin their part of the country. If they miss you, they just swing offand forget it, or climb back and sit on the mat till another of ourlot comes along. Swooping and missing don't put them in much danger,for if they come down they are in their own area."
"Have you had one of them try that hawk game on you?" asked Jimmy.
"I have had the pleasure and honor to have the great Immelmann dropat me, once, on an Albatros, or a machine that looked like an Albatros.We knew afterward that it was Immelmann, for he worked the sametactics several times, always in the same way. I was out guardingone of our fellows who was getting pictures pretty well back of theBoche lines, when along came a regular fleet of German aircraft.
"Four of them took after me, and I had to think quick. I couldn'tskip exactly, for I had to give the observation bus a chance to geta start. I maneuvered into a pretty good position, under thecircumstances, and was going to fire a round into them and then divefor home and mother, when the bullets began to sing about me from afifth plane. I couldn't see it, so I flip-flopped chop-chop. As Iturned I saw Immelmann's plane swoop past. I turned over just inthe nick of time and he missed me, though his nasty gun-fire prettywell chewed up my bottom plane.
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sp; "I did a hurried dead-leaf act, and I guess the Germans thought I wasdone for and dropping, for they lit out without bothering any moreabout me. I got home without any further incident, and found theobservation fellow had got back without a scratch, and had managed tojust finish his job before we were attacked, which was lucky."
Jimmy had taken in every syllable of Parker's story. He had triedto picture himself in the same bad fix, and had caught the idea ofParker's lightning action. "This fellow must be as quick as a cat,"he thought. "I wonder if I would have had sense enough to grasp thesituation in the way he did? Well, if I get in a similar fix I willhave some idea of what to do, thanks to him."
Weeks afterward Jimmy heard that story of Parker's fight with fiveBoche planes from another source. He then learned that Parker hadomitted an interesting feature of the tale. Before Immelmann swoopedon him, Parker had smashed up and sent to ground two of the fourBoche machines which had originally attacked him.
The Brighton boys soon learned that the most outstanding characteristicof veteran fliers was modesty. A new chivalry had sprung up with thedevelopment of the air service. Every successful flier had to be athorough sportsman to win through, and never did the boys meet a realveteran at the, game who would tell of his own successes.
The general view of the flying men at the front was that the man whodid the prosaic work of daily reconnaissance and got back safe andsound, without frequent spectacular combats and hair-breadth escapesthat made good telling, was just as much of a hero and took his lifein his hands just as surely, as did the man who went out to individualduel with an adversary, and accomplished some stunt that had a spiceof novelty in it.
The second in command at the airdrome gave Parker and Jimmy theirfinal instructions. "This is Hill's first time over," said theofficer to Parker. "He can fly, though. I think for the first timehe had better guard and watch." Then, turning to Jimmy: "WatchParker, and fly about eight hundred feet behind him and the samedistance above him when he straightens out. Parker will attack whenhe sees a Boche. Your job will still be to sit tight and watch untilyou can see how things are going. A second Boche or maybe morethan one other will be pretty sure to show up, and it will be yourjob to attack whatever comes along and drive it off so that it can'tinterfere with Parker while he is finishing off his man.
"If anything should happen to Parker, be sure what you take on beforeyou go after the plane he first tackled, for usually you will find morethan one plane about over there on their side. Don't forget onething. If you find that you are surrounded run for it. That machineyou are to fly will give them a chase, no matter how they aremounted. Remember, we haven't many of those, yet, and cannot afford tolose any." As he said this, the officer laughed.
Jimmy felt he should have smiled, too, but his head was too full ofhis job. He said "Yes, sir," quite seriously, and turned to givehis machine a final tuning up.
Jimmy jumped into the driving seat with a very determined feeling. Hemust give a good account of himself, come what might. He fixed hishead-gear a bit tighter, pulled on his gloves, and tried the positionof his machine-gun. There it sat, just above the hood, a bit to theright, almost in front of Jimmy. He felt a sudden affection for it.How it would make some Boche sit up if he came into range!
The wheels were blocked with shaped pieces of wood, and Jimmy noddedto his mechanics to start the engine. One whirl of the shiningblades, and the engine started, to roar away in deafening exuberanceof power as it warmed to its work. Something was not quite right.The rhythm was not just perfect. Jimmy stopped the engine, ordereda plug changed, and then, the order executed in a jiffy, nodded tohis men to once more start the motor. This time the engine dronedout a perfect series of explosions.
The flight sub-commander stepped beside the fuselage as Jimmy shutoff the engine, and said: "I have given detailed instructions toParker. You are to watch him and stay with him. If you by anychance lose him, come back. Are your maps and instruments all right?"
"Yes, sir."
Then off with you, and good luck. You will be doing this sort of thingevery day before long, but I expect it seems a bit new to you at first."
"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."
A final nod to his men---the roar once more, louder, more vibrant, moredefiant than ever---a quick signal of the hand, and the cords attachedto the blocks under the wheels were given a jerk. Jimmy was off onhis dangerous mission!
Old force of habit, a relic of earlier days of aeronautics, sent themen to the wings, where they gave the big dragon-fly an unnecessarypush. After a run of a few feet Jimmy raised her suddenly, swiftly,and she darted up almost perpendicularly. He realized as never beforethat he was mounted on a machine that could probably outclimb andouttrick any antagonist he was likely to meet.
"This is sure some bus," he thought to himself. "I guess she will doall that is asked of her, whatever she runs into. So it's up to me.If I fly her right she will come home, sure."
As he climbed into the clear sky he could see Parker's machine ahead,circling higher and higher. He was glad Parker was going, too.There was an odd but unmistakable sense of companionship in havingParker up there ahead, though at fifteen thousand feet up or more, andat eight hundred to a thousand feet distant, it seemed silly to thinkof a man as "near" in case of trouble. Beside, he was to guard Parker,and no one was to guard him.
But the powerful hunter on which he was mounted thrilled with such afeeling of self-satisfaction, her engines hummed so merrily, and shelifted herself so lightly and easily when he asked her to climb, thathe was soon wrapped in the joy of mastering so perfect a piece ofmechanism. Moreover, Jimmy had grown to love flying for flying's sake.It was meat and drink to him.
When Parker had gained the altitude that suited him he straightenedout and headed for the enemy's country at a high rate of speed. Jimmythought himself too far behind at first, but the splendid machineanswered readily to his call upon it for a burst of five minutes, andbefore he had time to realize it he was in good position and far belowwere the long, winding scars on the surface of the earth that toldwhere the opposing armies were entrenched. Fighting the temptationto watch what was passing underneath, he alternately kept his eyes onParker and scoured the sky ahead for signs of enemy aircraft.
Suddenly, between Parker and his own machine, and not so far belowhim as he would have liked, white puff-balls began to appear. TheGerman anti-aircraft guns were at it. Parker began a wide sweepto the left, then turned slowly right, then climbed swiftly. Jimmyraised his machine at the same time, but, thinking to save the leftturn and unconsciously slowing in a little on the plane in front,was reminded that he would be wise to change course a bit. Theominous whirr of pieces of projectile told him that the German "Archie"had fired a shot with good direction. He knew that shell might beclosely followed by another at a better elevation, so turned right,climbing, until he had regained his eight hundred feet or more aboveParker.
As he did so Parker circled left once more, then flew at right anglesto the course he had originally selected. No more shells came near;and again Parker changed course.
As Jimmy was trying to surmise where Parker would head next the swiftwasp in front dived suddenly, as if struck by one of the anti-aircraftprojectiles.
Quickly Jimmy dived also, and as he turned the nose of the machinedownward his heart gave a big bound, for right in front of Parker,some distance below, was the wide wing-spread of a big German machine.The enemy plane could hardly see Parker, save by some miracle, beforehe had come sufficiently near to pour a murderous fire into it. Witha rush, his instructions came back to him. He must hover above andwatch, whatever the result of the combat below him. He straightenedout, and circling narrowly, scanned the air in every direction. Ashe swung round he received another shock, a real one this time.
Straight before him, plainly coming as fast as they could fly, werethree planes of a type unfamiliar to him. They were at about his ownaltitude. He called on his machine for all she could
produce in theway of power, and depressed his elevator planes. The moment the noseof his plane turned upward, the three enemy planes began to climb also.Jimmy dared not try a steeper angle of ascent. Any machine which hehad ever seen, save his new mount, would have refused to climb as shewas doing.
What should he do? For the moment he could not see the fight belowhim between Parker and the plane Parker had started to chase. Surely,with three to one against him, the best thing he could do would beto keep his own skin intact. Intuitively glancing upward, what washis horror to see, still high up but dropping like a meteor, a fourthenemy plane---a big Gotha! It came over him like a flash! TheBoches were at their game. While the three lower planes engaged hisattention, a watcher had sat aloft. The German plan, Parker had toldhim, was to swoop down from a great height and catch the unwaryAllied flier unawares.
Stopping his engine, he side-slipped out of the path of the newcomer,rolled over once or twice to befog the enemy as to his intentions,and then sailed aside still further on one of his "upside-down stunts,"which had caught the eye of the flight commander. He thus escapedthe swoop of the diving Gotha, and as the other three Germans turnedto the right to demolish him, he swung half round, righted himself,and climbed for dear life. In very few minutes he was above them,leading the chase, all three pressing after him, and spreading outfan-wise slightly to ensure catching him if he again tried the maneuverthat had extricated him from the former trap.
For a few moments Jimmy felt a mite nervous as to how things werecoming out. Then it dawned on him that he was doing his part well ifhe drew the enemy fighters after him and away from Parker. The fourthof the Boche hunters might be after him still, back there behind him,or it might be fighting Parker, wherever Parker might be. By a quickglance back he could see the three pursuers. Their planes, too, wereclimbing well. He straightened out to try a burst of level speed.Examining his map and compass he saw he was not heading for home.That was bad. He tried veering to the left a bit, but imagined thatthe plane behind him on the left drew nearer.
Then Jimmy found himself. What was it Parker had said about the newhunter-machines being splendid loopers? Why not try a loop? Wouldthe Boches get wise to the idea quickly? Perhaps not quickly enough.If he did a big, fast loop, he might come right-side-up on the tailof one or even two of his would-be destroyers, and if he could onlyget that wicked little rapid-firer of his to bear he would lessen theodds against him, of that he felt sure. In a very few seconds afterthe idea had come to him he had decided to put it into practice.
The big wasp turned a beautiful arc, swiftly, neatly, as if it hadknown the game and was eager to take part in it. No machine couldhave performed a more perfect loop; and, as he had hoped, it broughthim in the rear of the group of assailants. The center one of thethree enemy planes was nearest to him. Straight at it Jimmy dashed,and when close, started firing. It was the first time in his lifethat Jimmy had tried to take a human life, but he did not give thatfact a thought. A fierce desire to finish off the flier so closein front overwhelmed him. He felt that he could not miss. A secondor two passed after the burst of fire before any change in the conductof the plane in front was noticeable.
Then the change came; all at once. The machine turned on its side,the engine still running at full speed, and for one instant, beforethe downward plunge came, Jimmy caught sight of a limp, lifelessform half-hanging, sidewise, from the pilot's seat. Jimmy had firedstraight, and one of his antagonists was out of the fight.
He turned his attention to the flier on his left, fired a round athim at rather long range, and then glanced to his right. It waswell he did so at that instant. The German on the right of thetrio had looped in turn, to get on to Jimmy's tail. Jimmy saw thetrick in the nick of time, and letting the left-hand plane go forthe moment, looped in turn. As he turned, he saw what he thoughtmust be the fourth enemy machine---the big fellow that had swoopeddown on him at the beginning of the fight---speeding straight athim. He quickly turned his loop into a side-loop, slid down swiftly,caught himself, and assured that he had escaped both fliers for themoment, took a rapid glance at his compass and saw that he was headedstraight for home. And home Jimmy went, as fast as his machine would go.
Brighton Boys with the Flying Corps Page 6
