The Boy Volunteers with the French Airmen Part 23

Two miles before Mannheim was reached eight of the machines swerved to the right, and crossed the river, their destination being the town of Oppau, several miles beyond the town, where large manufacturing establishments were turning out ammunition.

"We are bound for the chemical factories," said the lieutenant. "See the workmen running about. They have, no doubt, heard of our mission by this time."

"Which way shall I point the camera?" asked Alfred.

"Straight down," replied the lieutenant. "I am going to signal No. 62 to take the lead, so we will be the fifth in line. That will give you a splendid opportunity to notice the effect of the explosions and to snap them."

The lieutenant set the signal, "echelon formation," which means step formation, one machine being ahead and a little to the right or to the left of the succeeding one. In that manner the ten machines flew along, the distance between them being about eight hundred feet, and by this arrangement each succeeding machine was able to observe the effect of the bomb dropped by the machine ahead.

Mannheim was avoided, and the machines steered straight for the chemical headquarters on the left side of the stream where No. 62 released the first bomb. Alfred strained his eyes, and saw a flash below. It missed a building, and he shouted the information to Ralph through the tube.

"If that had gone a hundred feet to the right it would have taken a dandy building,--there, the second shot did it; that came from old Spic's machine; whew-w-w, but look at it! That smoke is as black as coal,--must be lots of chemicals there. Another,--and the second building smashed to flinders. The lieutenant is going to drop the first one,--down she goes! I took two fine ones just now. I'll bet the last picture will show it up just as it happened. Two more snaps. We are going to turn and go back. 62 is making the circle." Thus Alfred graphically described the first trip over the doomed town.

A dense cloud was now coming up, or, rather, bunches of them in various places where the missiles struck, and just as the Seraph was making the turn a tremendous explosion was heard, which actually seemed to jar the machine. Alfred arose from his seat, and the lieutenant's tense face showed that something unusual had happened, as he gazed below. All the buildings were emptied and scores of operatives were lining up along the river bank, and moving toward the great bridge south of the works.

"Did you notice that big explosion?" asked Alfred through the tube.

Ralph nodded his head affirmatively.

"That hit the largest building in the place, and there isn't much left of it. Did you see that tall chimney at the left side of the town? Well, that looks just like a big cannon with the smoke and fire coming out of it," commented Alfred.

The ten ships crossed the town twice, discharging all their bombs, but they waited in the air for twenty-five minutes until the first of the detached airplanes from the north appeared. During this time there was plenty of opportunity to see the extent of the damage which had been done to the great factories.

At a signal the airplanes, const.i.tuting the squadron, were lined up in two columns, and before they had proceeded far the signals told the success of that part of the squadron which had gone to Oppau. The signal was now set for "Home," and the machines, by this time lightened of their missiles, made a tremendous speed, until after they left the Rhine, and were making the last lap of the journey, when the machine carrying Captain De Goye and his Adjutant Buanau-Varilla, was forced to descend, owing to an accident.

The different machines circled around, hoping to be able to render a.s.sistance, but shortly after the airplane landed it was discovered to be in flames, and it was conjectured that seeing relief was out of the question the aviators had destroyed the machine to prevent its being of any use to the enemy.

CHAPTER XIV

A TERRIBLE FIGHT IN THE CLOUDS

The return to the base with only the single mishap alluded to was cause for congratulations, and the lieutenant came in for a large share of the commendation.

In turn he prepared a special report setting forth the work done by the boys on the eventful journey. He pointed out that Ralph piloted the machine the entire distance, giving him, as the commanding officer of one division, time to direct the operation of the machines and attend to the bombs, while he had the pleasure of presenting to the authorities a set of unique photographs taken by Alfred at the very time the bombs were thrown and exploded.

When the roll was called, two days thereafter, the men of the squadrons were lined up, an officer from headquarters pa.s.sed down the line, and, among other places, halted before the boys, who stepped forward. On the breast of each was pinned a medal, and as the officer did so he kissed them on the cheeks, a custom which is faithfully observed, in accordance with the regulations, whenever a merit order is bestowed.

There was a cheer as the two blushing boys stepped back to the line, and there were no prouder hearts than theirs as they heard the encomiums expressed on all sides for their bravery and devotion to duty. It was a pleasure to many other young Americans, who, like them, were volunteers serving in the aviation corps, and many of whom were afterwards also honored in like manner.

There was hardly a day that there was not some experience added to their store of knowledge pertaining to airships, and the work connected with flying, all of which was performed with efficiency and credit.

But the work which they performed was not all a series of jolly excursions without the corresponding sorrows. The devotion of Lieutenant Guyon to them dated from the time when that brave officer was stricken while on a trial flight from the camp at Bar-le-Duc. He never forgot how they took charge of the machine, and brought it safely to earth and cared for him so tenderly. Thereafter, it was rarely the case that he went aloft without one or both of the boys in his company.

Shortly after the foregoing events, while the three were performing scout duty north of St. Mihiel, they were attacked by two German machines, an Albatross and a Taube, a combination which, especially when operating against a single machine, is capable of doing deadly work.

When the two enemy ships were sighted, Alfred was in the pilot's seat, and under the direction of the lieutenant, the airplane shot forward directly in the path of the first machine, while the lieutenant poured out a constant storm of shot. The Albatross dived, and Alfred at once moved the control to ascend, thus bringing their machine above the Taube.

The object now was to so manoeuver their ship as to keep between the two enemies, and in doing so make it difficult for either of them to use the quick firers without danger of hitting the other. The Seraph was a rapid climber, due to the high power of her engines.

"Send her up as rapidly as possible," shouted the lieutenant. "Keep on going, and turn slowly to the left, so as to make a big circle; that will give me a chance to put in some shots."

Alfred knew the manoeuver, the purpose being to bring the two machines into line with each other, and thus enable the lieutenant to get his gun in the range of both machines.

"A little down now, and more to the right; there, steady," was the next command.

"Br-r-r-r-r" sounded the gun, as the officer turned the crank.

"The Taube is going down," cried Ralph excitedly, "and here comes another of the same kind," continued Ralph.

"Go straight for the second one," shouted the lieutenant, and Alfred knew that the same trick had to be repeated.

But the new arrival did not accept the invitation to fight on the lines that the first machine adopted. Instead, it began to circle about at a safe distance, endeavoring to secure the overhead position.

"Follow that bird," said the lieutenant, "and keep going. They will learn something about high flying before they get through with us."

The Albatross was not making much headway in the climbing game. On the other hand, the new Taube was an extraordinary flyer.

"There is only one man aboard of her," said the lieutenant. "Take the gla.s.ses, and see if you can make out her number."

Ralph studied the machine for some time. "I am not sure," he said, "but I think it is D 28. No one but the pilot is aboard."

"That's good. He can't hit us head on. Trail him or get ahead of him and keep on ascending," said the lieutenant, now preparing his rapid firer with a new charge.

The Taube suddenly swerved to the right, and let loose a full charge from his gun. It seemed as though one side of the Seraph had the covering of the planes ripped off, for the hail of bullets tore right through the frame. Alfred shook his head as he cleared away several bits of wreckage.

"How high are we?" asked Ralph.

"Two thousand six hundred meters," was the reply.

The lieutenant had his revenge, however, for their own machine was now creeping up and gradually getting a rear position. This was what he had been aiming for. The stream of shots from the Seraph's gun now began to tell. In one despairing attempt the Taube turned fully half way around and answered, but it was evident that something was wrong with the ship.

Suddenly the Seraph darted down. Ralph and the lieutenant looked back in surprise. Alfred's head had dropped to one side, and one arm hung over the side of the cha.s.sis.

The lieutenant leaned over and caught the elevating rudder, not a moment too soon, and corrected the machine. Ralph leaned over the side of the body, and drew Alfred toward him, as the lieutenant climbed into the aviator's seat. All this took but a moment's time, but meanwhile it was necessary for them to observe the enemy and avoid him.

"The Taube is falling," cried out Ralph, "but the Albatross is swinging around."

Before it was possible to correct the machine, and avoid the danger, the gunner of the oncoming aeroplane began to pump, and the shot began to tell on the Seraph's framework. The lieutenant now saw that it would be a terrific task to get above the Albatross, so turning the control rudder sharply, the Seraph made a quick slide below its adversary.

Alfred did not move, and Ralph tried to control himself, for in the great excitement attending the above circ.u.mstances, he was almost distracted. He was leaning partly over the body of the machine when the lieutenant saw him crouch forward. He put his hand on the boy and tried to shake him, but there was no response.

Down, down went the machine, still under absolute control of the lieutenant, who turned the machine in a circle in order to be sure to bring it down within the French lines. When within five hundred feet of the earth something seemed to go wrong with the steering mechanism. The lieutenant tugged and pulled the lever back and forth. The machine refused to move forward in a straight line, and landing while the machine is describing a circular movement is a most dangerous manoeuver.

Both boys were quiet, and the lieutenant feared for the worst. A hundred feet more and all would be over. In desperation he banked the machine to stop its terrific speed. This helped the situation, but did not prevent the spinning motion, and finally the crash came.