by E. J. Craine
CHAPTER XII
CLOWNS ON THE WING
Boom!
What followed that first heavy detonation was very much like a riot. Theaudience became frantic under the belief that it meant an attack on thetown, and that the missiles would presently drop upon the roofs, workingdestruction to everything around.
It was the actors, however, who were the most exercised. One and allthey understood what it meant to them. Their planes were in danger ofbeing demolished! In some way the Teutons must have learned about theentertainment, and realized that almost every Allied pilot would want toattend it. They rightly guessed that for once the guard about theaviation field and numerous hangars where the dozens upon dozens ofplanes of every description were housed when not in use, would beunusually light. They had also taken advantage of the bright moonlightto make a bold sally over the French lines and reach this distant pointundiscovered.
Boom! boom! boom!
Other crashing sounds announced that the enemy machines were busily atwork. Each pilot pictured the entire camp under bombardment, with theutmost disaster overtaking the airplanes upon which General Petain wasdepending so much to serve as the "eyes" of his brave army.
There was a general and maddened rush. Every one wanted to get to thecamp in the briefest possible space of time. There was no chance for theactors to change their clothes. They were glad enough of an opportunityto snatch up a heavy fur-lined coat, either their own or some otherperson's. With this to hide their ludicrous attire, and also give someneeded warmth once they went aloft, they hastened to find a waiting car,which, when loaded to its capacity, would be sent like mad along theroad to the aviation field.
It was one of the most amazing sights imaginable, to see those pilots,many of whom were world famous, thus garbed. It looked as though someasylum of freaks had opened its doors and allowed the inmates to escapeto the highways and byways.
Only one thought possessed them all, which was to get to the hangars inthe shortest possible time. When they arrived each anticipated seekinghis particular plane. If that chanced to be out of commission, thencommandeering any other, it mattered little whose, so long as they wereable to go up, and give battle to the audacious Teuton pilots who hadraided their camp at Bar-le-Duc.
"We've got to save our machines!" cried Tom. "Come on!"
"Right you are!" responded Jack.
Tom and Jack were with the rest who found some way to crowd aboard oneof the waiting cars that were seized upon to carry the pilots to thefield. As they went booming furiously along the road they could stillhear those frightful explosions ahead, each one accompanied by a flashas of lightning. The reports were almost deafening.
Eager eyes were turned aloft. The moon shone, but it was difficult tomake out so small an object as an airplane at a height of a mile or morewithout the use of searchlights, and even these were not very efficienton such a night.
Still, some of the pilots believed they could see several enemy planesswooping over at a lower level, possibly, they thought, on the lookoutfor the procession of cars bearing the aroused Allied aviators to thehangars.
Bang!
A bomb fell not fifty feet away from the car in which the two chums wereseated. One of their companions received a trifling wound from theeffect of the explosion of the TNT contents of the bomb, said to be themost powerful known for such uses, and handled by the engineers of allthe armies, under different names.
If the design of the Boche who swooped down for the purpose of waylayingthe cars carrying the French and American airmen was to rob the Alliesof the services of a dozen eminent pilots all at once, it failed inexecution.
At last the aviators arrived on the scene. It was lively enough, withbombs still bursting here and there. Already considerable damage hadbeen done to some of the hangars.
The Allied pilots were "mad all the way through" at having been caughtnapping by the foe. They paid no attention to the danger that still hungover their heads, with the enemy's supply of explosives as yetunexhausted. While the dreadful detonations continued, sometimesexceedingly close by, the various pilots seized upon such mechaniciansas they could.
One by one the planes rolled along the field and began to climb upwardby way of the usual spiral staircase route, to give battle to the enemy,regardless of any superiority in numbers.
Jack was dismayed to discover that his plane was badly wrecked by one ofthe explosions. Indeed, it was afterwards found that he had to have anew machine, since the repairs necessary to put the old one into serviceagain were too complicated to be done at the front.
Tom was more fortunate. His hangar had also suffered to some extent, butso far as could be seen in a hasty examination his plane was not injuredin the least.
He too went up, burnt-corked face and all. There were clowns abroad thatnight who could give Tom many points in the game, so far as comicallooks went, and still easily win the stakes. But all else was forgottenunder the spur of the moment, save that each man was eager to get intouch with the Boche pilots who had almost spoiled their one greatevening.
But no longer were those crashing detonations coming. This told thestory only too well. The Germans had either exhausted their supply ofbombs, or else they deemed discretion the better part of valor. They hadevidently taken their departure before the first Allied pilot got up tothe elevation they had been using in their bombardment.
Nothing could be seen of them, though had the Allied pilots been able touse their ears, which was impossible when their own motors were makingsuch loud noises, they might have heard, in the distance and to theeast, the telltale music of Teuton propellers beating the air in a rushfor home ports.
A pursuit was organized, and several planes followed the retreatinginvaders over the entire distance to the front; but it was of no avail.The enemy planes had had too good a start, and were being pushed for allthey were worth to get beyond the danger zone.
There had been several accidents at the Bar-le-Duc field, but none ofthem fatal. This was not at all surprising, considering the haste shownby the pilots to mount and engage the foemen.
Too, several of the planes besides Jack's had been damaged, acircumstance which brought about disaster before the aviator was able toleave the ground.
As the fliers came back one after another, filled with indignation anddisappointed hopes, Jack stalked about, with his black face, yet laughedto see what comical pictures most of his fellow aviators made.
By degrees most of them began to realize that the joke was on them, andjoined in greeting with noisy shouts each fresh arrival from above. Thedamage had not been so very serious after all, since most of the Teutonbombs had either failed to explode when aimed true, or else only dugenormous craters in the ground where it did not matter, sometimes even aquarter of a mile away from the hangars. Jack's machine, it was found,was the only one badly damaged.
From that time there was one subject on which American and French pilotswere agreed. They must certainly repay their enemy rivals for thisvisitation. The honors could not continue to be all on one side.
So from that hour every Allied pilot who went far back of the Germanlines used his glasses diligently, in the endeavor to locate the secretaviation field of the Boche. This would naturally be camouflaged in thecustomary fashion, at which the Teutons had become almost as proficientas the French; but trust an airman to spy out the lodging place of hiskind.
Step by step they learned which direction the enemy planes took incoming to the front, and retiring when through for the day. Thus in goodtime the hiding place was found. Great was the delight of the wholeLafayette Escadrille when this confidential news was passed about. And,later on, a party of Allied aviators paid a night visit to the Germancamp, and dropped several tons of high explosives from bombing planes,that were heavily guarded by the fighting Nieuports.
They had reason to believe from what they themselves saw, as well asthrough a secret report received from a French spy, that their aim hadbeen remarkably fine; and that many times the amount of
damage theGermans had done at Bar-le-Duc had been carried out on the reprisalsally.
After that it seemed as though the slate had been wiped clean. Theirhonor had been fully purged of the stain that had rested on it eversince that dreadful night when they were caught off their guard.
It turned out that the enemy had meant to start an action on thefollowing day, and it had been hoped that the squadron of airmen mightso cripple the French service that the advantage would be all on theside of the assailants.
Something happened, however, to balk the plans of the Crown Prince.Perhaps he had a reprimand from his august father and emperor for sorecklessly sacrificing such vast numbers of his men in a fruitlessassault against the stonewall defensive of the French army. It may alsohave been something else that called the attack off, but at any rate itfailed of accomplishment.
The stagnation along the front continued; but all this while GeneralPetain was making quiet though effective preparations, in order some dayto strike a staggering blow, such as the French had before given, whichwould take the enemy by surprise, and push him still further back.
Jack was fretting because thus far he had seen so little of real action.Since his Nieuport had been sent away, and another had as yet failed toarrive for his use, he often bewailed his ill-luck. He even assured hischum the "green mould would be growing all over his person if somethingdidn't soon come to pass to break the terrible monotony."
But every lane, however long, must have its turning; and Jack's hourstruck at last.
