CHAPTER XVII

FLYING FOR VICTORY

BOTH Tom and Jack could look back to previous experiences in bombing the

enemy. They had taken part in excursions that occupied a part of a

moonlight night; trips that sometimes had carried them across the

border, and to Metz; once they had gone even as far as the Rhine up in

the region of Coblenz, where later on Pershing's army was fated to be

posted as a guard over the beaten Huns.

But on those occasions their work had been of a different character from

that now given to them. They had seen munition plants go up in masses of

flames after their bombs struck; watched important bridges being

shattered under the same gigantic force; felt a thrill of triumph when a

lucky shot exploded some huge munition dump, on which the enemy depended

for his reserve store; exhausted their stock of bombs in demolishing an

important railway junction, so as to paralyze the transportation of

reinforcing bodies of German troops.

All those things they were familiar with, but from the great secrecy

that had been maintained in connection with this enterprise they could

understand that it far exceeded them all in importance.

Their speed was such that they would be likely to reach their goal

shortly, when all the suspense must be over. Jack wished that time had

come. He was already trying to figure out just how Tom would plan so as

to seem to become lost on the homeward flight, and thus be left to his

own resources for a time.

From this reverie he was aroused by seeing the signal flash from the

pivot of the spearhead. It gave him an electrical sensation, though that

was only to be expected.

Tom, too, knew the crisis was near at hand. He stared ahead, and

believed he could even make out spectral objects moving this way and

that, like monstrous, though dimly seen, dragonflies, such as all

country boys have watched many a time while on a warm summer day, lying

at rest on the bank of the "swimming hole."

From this it was evident that news of their probable coming had been

sent on ahead, warning the defenders of the German fortress.

Still was the night as yet, but it would not be for long with those

opposing air forces ready for a death grapple. While the ten

battleplanes, each piloted by a Yankee ace with a splendid record,

engaged the flotilla of enemy aircraft, the bombers must be at their

more humble but equally important business.

All had been arranged so that there might be the least possible

friction, and no confusion. Each pilot and observer knew exactly what he

was to do, and every possible situation had been taken into

consideration.

Then came the initial firing.

It seemed that one ambitious Boche airman, unable to wait until the

oncoming Americans reached the formation arranged to resist the

onslaught, had flown ahead and was now exhausting his puny reservoir of

missiles against the solid phalanx.

The clatter became a roar as several of the raiders turned their guns on

the incautious Hun. Immediately his voice was stilled, and the

flittering light dropping earthward, after the manner of a falling

rocket-stick, told what had happened to him.

Before he landed his machine had burst into flames, as the escaping

petrol caught fire. Jack considered that a good omen for their side.

"Fritz seems to be getting a rough deal on this particular night," he

told himself. "Already three of his planes have been destroyed, and

several others have gone down out of control, with never a single loss

on the side of the Americans. Bully!"

But now the advance had reached the marked line where the rest of the

Huns waited to engage the invaders. If they were dismayed by the tragic

fate that had overtaken that rash pilot they did not show it, for they

attacked with a viciousness that Tom had never seen equalled in all his

experience as a flier.

It was undoubtedly desperation that spurred the Boche on. He knew that

these wonderful Americans, who his leaders had ridiculed in the

beginning, were foes not to be despised; that they had almost taken the

entire Argonne; that they had actually threatened to commence the

long-talked of march on to Berlin.

So they attacked with fury, and the engagement soon became general.

Right and left there was continual firing going on, as the giant planes

wheeled and circled, shooting out flaming tongues like so many blast

furnaces in action.

The formation was not broken even then, each battleplane continuing to

cover its individual bombing plane with the shelter of its wings, so to

speak, though at the same time fighting off the aggressors.

Of course the bombers were also fitted to ward off attack, each being

armed with two machine-guns, one forward, and the other aft where the

man who handled the bombs could manipulate it. Slower and much less

agile than the fighting planes, they were expected to defend themselves

but not to attack.

The advance had slowed up, but not entirely stopped while the battle was

joined. As yet no bomb had been slipped from its leash, for the right

moment still held off.

Looking down Jack could see where the searchlights that sent such

broadening streamers aloft were stationed. He could also make out a dim

pile that must be the German fortress, strengthened particularly to hold

up the Americans, even as that at Verdun had held up the Huns.

Let the "Archies" bark below and the shrapnel burst all around them as

it pleased, no one in all that vast armada of the air was paying the

slightest attention to such things. They all, in their carelessness of

danger, seemed to themselves impervious to the storm of flying missiles.

The slower-moving bombing machines bore the brunt of this furious

onslaught, and Jack could tell that the wings of their plane were being

cut by the bullets.

It was almost a miracle that so far no one aboard any of the ten big

planes seemed to have been struck; or if such a thing had happened the

injury did not appear to be serious. They continued to move forward as

if all the Huns in Northern France, backed by every sort of gun that

could hurl shrapnel aloft, would not be sufficient to stay their

progress.

Presently, however, the formation was broken at a signal. To try to

maintain it any longer would be little short of suicidal, for the

gunners below were getting their range better, and the bursting shells

came alarmingly close now.

Tom kept his eyes constantly about him. Each bomber tried to keep at a

given altitude in making the evolutions, since in that way they were

better able to avoid a collision that would be fatal to both machines.

At last Tom caught his signal and as he headed straight for the spot

over the fortress he gave Jack the sign. The bomb slipped from its

sheath, and was instantly lost to sight in the smoky atmosphere below.

Already they had had their ears shocked by numerous discharges, as

others among the Americans shot their missile earthward. It was terrible

to look down at that crisis in the attack. The whole world seemed on

fire beneath them, what with the exploding bombs and the myriad flashes

coming from the German guns at work.

Jack was disappointed because in this vast inferno he found it utterly

impossible to tell where his special messenger struck. He knew, though,

that he had been in a fair position for a hit when given the word, and

on that account never found any reason to doubt but that it had given a

good account of itself.

After delivering his fire Tom swept off to one side so as not to

interfere with another bomber who might occupy a higher level, and be

advancing to the attack.

Presently when the turn of the air service boys came again they would be

ready to send down the second "bundle of concentrated destructiveness";

and later on there might be a "clean-up call" that would exhaust the

stock carried by each plane.

Meanwhile, given a chance to look hastily around at other factors

connected with the extensive engagement, Tom discovered that there had

been at least one victim besides the initial one.

A plane was dropping swiftly, swinging this way and that, turning over

and over, and showing signs that the pilot's hand no longer controlled

the levers. He was unable to make out whether it was an enemy plane or

one of their own convoy; but the doom of those who happened to be belted

to the seats was undoubtedly sealed.

Air Service Boys Flying for Victory; Or, Bombing the Last German Stronghold · 第 17 / 25 章