OVER THE ENEMY'S LINES
IN all there were twenty planes starting out on that momentous
expedition to "strafe the Kaiser," as Jack called it. Half of these were
monster bombing machines of a late model, capable of carrying more of
the deadly explosives than had ever before been attempted.
The others were battle planes, guided by the most expert pilots, some of
whom were already famous aces. These were men whose names had become
household words over in America, heroes of the masses, whose pictures
always evoked storms of applause whenever shown on the screen in the
motion picture houses.
Tom owed the fact of his having been selected to guide one of the
bombers, instead of a fighting machine, to the fact that one man had
fallen sick, and was thus placed out of the running. In casting around
for an efficient substitute they had picked Tom.
The start was made an hour before midnight. This was done in order to
lead the Boche to believe that the night would pass without unusual
occurrences.
Quietly, every man who had been called to duty presented himself at his
special station equipped for work. The hostlers, under the supervision
of the officer in command at the aviation field, had seen to it that
every detail had been looked after. Tanks were filled, and each plane
carefully examined for defects that might imperil the lives of those who
were to trust themselves to its reliability.
As customary, the pilots and observers themselves took one last survey
of certain particular features where experience told them there was the
most reason to anticipate trouble.
Not a single plane but stood up under the test, which spoke well for the
infinite care taken in their manufacture, as well as the handling they
had received since being placed in action.
The signal being given, the monster machines began to take the air one
after another, units in a vast whole. There was no demonstration, though
scores of other aviators and assistants were on the field watching the
send-off, speculating as to the momentous business being thus undertaken
and often eating their hearts out with envy.
Tom and Jack were well satisfied with the big plane that had been given
into their charge. Of course Tom had handled just such a machine before,
and was well acquainted with its possibilities.
Jack on his part was pleased with the fact that the work of releasing
the old-shaped bombs would fall to his share of the duties. It was
something to feel pride in, this taking part in the most ambitious
expedition of the kind in which the Americans had ever embarked, without
a single French or British airman along.
Once aloft, they waited for the remainder of the huge squadron to join
them. The hum of the many motors made merry music in the ears of the two
young Yankee aviators. That droning sound seemed to be spelling the
downfall of autocracy, and the rule of real democracy throughout all the
world.
It was just the kind of night for such a raid. Clouds partly covered the
sky, but there was an absence of wind. Up there, far removed from the
earth, it was not dark, and when looking down objects were dimly seen.
The great forest stretched backward toward the south; and in the other
direction, had it been daylight, the aviators could have looked off to
the open country, where fields lay. These were no longer covered with
the fruits of the harvest, as in prewar times, but lay desolate, with
ruined farm buildings, and everywhere the indelible mark of the ruthless
hand of the Hun showing what had befallen the border Departments of poor
bleeding France.
Finally came the welcome signal that announced the arrival of the last
of the air fleet. All was now ready for the start. Every pilot knew what
place he was expected to occupy in the formation; and when another flash
was seen they took up their positions.
The leader occupied the place of honor. After him came two more planes a
little apart. The next pair were even further away from each other, and
so it went on to the end. In as far as Jack could make out, the
expedition at its start very much resembled the formation seen when a
flock of wild geese passes overhead, winging its flight toward the South
in the fall or toward Canada in the spring, making a triangle, or spear
head, with an old gander at the apex in supreme command.
Later on, as occasion arose, this formation would be changed, the
battleplanes surrounding the heavier bombers in order to protect them
from any hostile attack.
Far below could be seen occasional lights. These they knew came from
some camp of the Huns, where the tired soldiers were sleeping in
anticipation of another hard day's work ahead. Off to the right a fire
was burning, perhaps some building in the process of destruction to
prevent its falling into the hands of the Americans, who were in line to
overwhelm it on their next day's drive.
These things, however, received very little attention from the raiders.
They were more interested in the possibility of their progress being
halted by some block of Hun machines, bent on breaking up the raid
before it was well started.
No doubt, information had leaked concerning the assembling of all these
latest model planes. There were always ways whereby clever and daring
spies could communicate with their mates on the other side of the
fighting line, which was the main reason for so much secrecy in planning
this particular expedition.
So most of the time both Tom and Jack kept their eyes fixed on the line
ahead, waiting eagerly for the signal to close in.
"There she goes!" called out Jack suddenly; but of course his companion
had already seen the signal light from the leading plane, and was
commencing to carry out his part of the programme.
Enemy planes had been discovered barring their further progress, quite a
squadron of them being in the air, with others rising as they caught
the sound of the bustling motors coming from the south.
This was the first crisis in the raid. The Huns were "out for blood," as
Jack termed it, and would do their utmost to break up the formation.
Their object would be to confuse the Yankee pilots, and thus weaken the
force to the extent of making them abandon their plan.
But like a speeding avalanche the score of American planes sailed on,
bent on forcing their way directly through the feeble defensive line by
sheer mass play. It was football tactics over again on a huge scale, as
learned by most of those young pilots in their schooldays at home.
The machine-guns commenced to spray around them. Such a furious fire was
opened that almost immediately one of the Hun machines took a downward
dive, rushed earthward, bursting into flames before it had gone
one-quarter of the way to the ground.
This quick result evidently took some of the spirit out of the remainder
of the enemy pilots, for they sheered off to right and left, still
keeping their guns going, but apparently apprehensive as to their own
safety.
A second Boche crumpled up under this mass attack. His plane was seen
turning over and over, though it did not take fire, and there was not
one chance in ten of its pilot's being able to save himself from the
doom that apparently confronted him.
Of course, no one ever knew whose lucky shots had accomplished this
double result. These victories must go down in the history of the Yankee
flying squadron simply as "general damage inflicted upon the enemy." But
they counted just as much in demoralizing the Germans, for after that
the attempt to hold up the raiders was abandoned. Fritz had done his
best, but it had proved to be far from good enough.
Twenty Yankee machines had gone into the battle, and the same number
sailed majestically onward after the last spiteful chatter of
machine-gun fire had ceased.
For the first encounter of the night this was encouraging. It seemed to
give promise of further successes yet to come; and every member of the
expedition felt a glow in his heart on realizing how great their victory
had been.
They were now headed for the castle where report placed Ludendorff's
headquarters. Perhaps report lied. That was a matter with which they had
nothing whatever to do; all they knew was that their orders entailed on
them the duty of demolishing that castle in the most expeditious manner
known to bombing pilots, and leave the rest to history to record.
The raiders were now of course well back of the German front, though
still flying over French soil. Presently they would come upon that part
of the country where the enemy had chosen to place his supreme
headquarters while trying with might and main to hold the aggressive
Americans in check.
Only the leader would know when this was reached, though, through
signals, his orders could be passed back along the line.
It was now no longer dark down below, thanks to the heavenly bodies that
had appeared once more from behind the cloud curtain, as though in
league with the raiders.
The squadron descended to lower levels, in order to be better prepared
for dropping their bombs when the time arrived.
Jack, having nothing to do with the piloting of the machine, kept a
vigilant watch ahead. He wondered how the leader would know when they
had arrived close to the castle, since the inmates would of course see
to it that every light was extinguished that could be of use to an enemy
airman.
Then came the signal telling that they had arrived, and downward further
swooped the bombing machines, the raiders intent on sighting their
intended quarry so as to blot it out of existence.