_À BERLIN_
HAVING, through Athol's instrumentality, recovered the battleplane's
plans, Desmond Blake resolved to run no more risks in that direction.
In spite of the most stringent precautions German spies were found to
be active behind the British lines. Confidential documents
disappeared almost under the noses of the authorities. So, rather
than run a chance of having the plans stolen a second time, he
destroyed them.
"The details of one battleplane may be kept a secret, with reasonable
care," he remarked. "With a dozen in the making the odds are against
it, and since the authorities have told me pretty plainly that I am
of more use here than superintending the construction of other
machines at home, I am content. I have an idea that they've a pretty
stiff job for us to tackle before very long."
Blake's surmise was correct, for a few days later he was ordered to
report himself at the Staff Office.
"By Jove!" he exclaimed, taking Athol and Dick aside. "We're going to
put the wind up the Bosches this time. Half a dozen of our fastest
machines are detailed to make a raid--guess where?"
The lads hazarded the names of several places, but without success.
"Berlin," declared Blake. "Our people have been keen on the idea for
a long time, but the authorities at home have, for some unearthly
reason, deprecated the idea. Sickly sentimentality I call it. They
shrink from reprisals, although they know perfectly well that that is
the only way to bring the Hun to his senses. Events prove it. He was
the first to use gas shells; now he squirms and whines when we give
him a dose of his own poison. He gloated over the torpedoing of our
merchant ships, and squeals out piffling protests to neutrals when
our submarines tackle his trading vessels in the Baltic. The German
papers were full of bombastic rejoicing over the Zeppelin visits to
our undefended towns; the Kaiser weeps copious crocodile tears when
the Allied airmen knock his beloved Karlsruhe about a bit. I'd go a
jolly sight farther than the precept laid down in the old Mosaic Law.
'An eye for an eye; a tooth for a tooth.' By Jove! Three British
shells for every German one, and a ton of high explosive for every
kilogramme of T.N.T."
"When do we start?" asked Dick eagerly.
"At three to-morrow morning," replied Blake.
"It's blowing half a gale from the west'ard," said Athol, "and the
glass is falling rapidly. It's all right for the outward journey, but
we'll have a job to get back. Not that I am at all anxious about the
battleplane's capabilities," he hastened to add.
"There will be no coming back," declared Blake. "At least, not at
present. We've been waiting for this westerly gale. With it the
squadron ought to do at least a hundred and sixty over the ground.
When we arrive over the German capital, by turning head to wind we
can keep almost stationary over any part we choose until all the
machines have dropped their bombs. Strict orders have been issued to
avoid hitting, as far as possible, the residential parts of the city.
Then, after that particular business is completed the machines are to
resume the westerly, or north-westerly course, and alight on Russian
soil, somewhere in the neighbourhood of Riga."
"And then?" asked Dick.
"Make ourselves useful until we get a fair wind back," replied Blake.
"But be careful," he added, "not to mention this business to anyone.
Even after the raid no communication will be made; the official
bulletins will ignore it. And, I fancy, the Germans won't care to
admit it, since they've boasted time after time that Berlin is
absolutely immune from air attacks. We'll see how far their boast
holds good."
For the rest of the day preparations for the long flight were
diligently carried out. Blake and Dick overhauled the motors, oiled
and tested the wing-operating mechanism, and carefully examined the
controls lest any of the wires had developed designs of chafing. The
petrol tanks were replenished under Dick's supervision, while in
addition twenty cans of spirit were taken on board. Ammunition and
stores were also placed in readiness for the flight, Athol and
Sergeant O'Rafferty being responsible for the quantity and the
correct weight, since a lot depended upon the flying trim of the
mechanical bird.
Similar scenes of activity were witnessed in other parts of the
aerodrome, while the individual units of the squadron detailed for
the raid were being prepared for the most extensive aerial operation
of the war. By nine o'clock everything was in readiness. The airmen
retired for a well-earned and necessary rest, while sentries were
posted at the door of each hangar to prevent any possibility of the
machines being tampered with.
At two in the morning the pilots repaired to the Wing Commander's
quarters to receive final instructions. The machines were to proceed
in two columns, each biplane starting at two minute intervals, the
columns to be roughly three miles apart. Blake's battleplane was to
act as covering escort, flying at three thousand feet above the
others. No attention had to be paid to hostile aircraft unless
unavoidable. If the enemy should attack, half the squadron, assisted
by the secret battleplane, was to engage, while the rest pushed on
towards their objective.
As soon as the German capital was sighted, a wireless message was to
be sent to the British headquarters; and then, and only then, was the
Russian General Staff to be informed of the projected visit of the
raiding aircraft.
Punctually at the appointed time the first of the biplanes left the
aerodrome, followed at stated intervals by the rest. In spite of the
howling wind the ascents were carried out without a hitch.
The secret battleplane was the last to leave. Almost silently as
compared with her consorts she rose evenly and swiftly from the
ground, and headed off in the direction the others had taken.
In the pale morning light the far-flung double line of British
machines could hardly be distinguished against the angry red glow on
the eastern horizon, although in the upper regions the deep bass hum
of their exhausts could be distinctly heard.
As they neared the lines of opposing trenches three or four Fokkers
rose with the evident intention of intercepting the raiding machines;
but thinking better of it, they volplaned earthwards.
At length, far above the storm-driven clouds that hid every detail of
the country from their sight, the raiders pursued an even and
uninterrupted flight, piloted on a compass course by the flight
commander in the leading biplane of the right column. With the wind
almost dead aft navigation was a fairly simple matter. There was no
need to trouble about "side-drifts." All that had to be done was to
fly continuously in a straight line until it was judged that the
machines were approaching their objective and then descend below the
clouds and verify their position by reference to a map and a
recognition of conspicuous landmarks.
The "maps" had been especially supplied for the raiding airmen's use
by the French government, and were the result of careful aeronautical
observation work in pre-war days. In a strict sense they could not be
called maps, as they consisted of an elaborate series of enlarged
photographic views taken from an altitude of about eight hundred
metres, and embraced practically every mile of country between the
Franco-German frontier and the environs of Berlin. Their compilation
was the direct result of the memorable visit of a Zeppelin to Nancy,
where, owing to an accident the gas-bag had been compelled to come to
earth. An examination proved conclusively that the airship had been
taking aerial reconnaissance of the French fortresses. The French
government did not protest: it merely retaliated by making the series
of photographic maps that were in the present struggle to play such
an important part.
At a quarter to five the leading biplane of the right column began a
volplane, the rest of the machines following its example. It was a
test in order to verify their position.
For full five minutes each was lost to sight of the other as the
air-squadron dipped swiftly through the dense, rain-laden clouds.
While it lasted the ordeal was a nerve-racking one, for not only was
there the danger of collision in the event of any of the biplanes
swinging out of position, but the air was filled with
"pockets"--partial vacuum of insufficient density to offer resistance
to the planes--into which the airmen fell like stones until the
machines "picked up" in the buoyant air beyond. Vicious and erratic
currents and eddies, too, added to the pilots' difficulties, while in
the midst of the layer of clouds it was almost as dark as midnight.
As the battleplane emerged from the underside of the clouds the lads
could discern an extensive town through which flowed a broad river.
Viewed from the height of seven thousand feet the town, with the
numerous railways radiating from it, resembled a gigantic spider
lurking in the centre of its web.
Already the leading biplanes were far beyond the maze of buildings,
so it was evident that the city was not Berlin.
Blake noticed the look of enquiry on Athol's face.
"Magdeburg," he announced laconically. "Know the place well. We're
fairly on the right road now--Brandenburg, Potsdam and then Berlin.
Another quarter of an hour."
Up into the clouds climbed the raiding aircraft. The now furious gale
was completely in their favour, for it was impossible for the Germans
to send aloft any of their numerous captive balloons that formed a
part of the aerial defences of the capital. The wind was beginning to
rend the bank of clouds. Brilliant shafts of sunshine shot through
the rifts. Over the ground the shadows chased each other with a speed
that gave the aviators a knowledge of the strength of the gale.
Blake, holding the steering wheel, spoke hardly a word. His whole
attention seemed to be centred upon the task of "keeping station"
with the rest of the squadron. His left hand was almost continuously
upon the timing lever of the motors, checking the speed of the
battleplane whenever, as frequently happened, she showed a tendency
to overhaul the biplanes.
Far below lay an extensive and irregularly shaped lake with at least
two considerable towns on its banks. Surrounding the lake was a dense
forest, of which a large part had been but recently cleared, for
newly-felled trees were plentifully in evidence.
"Potsdam," announced Blake. "If we imitated the methods of the
Kultured Huns we should drop a few bombs on Kaiser Wilhelm's palace.
That lake is the Havel. They've cleared a lot of the Spandau and
Potsdam forests, I see. Not that they are hard up for timber. I
suppose it is chiefly for wheat growing, in anticipation of the day
when the German frontiers are most considerably restricted. But stand
by--the leading machines are turning head to wind."
The attack had been magnificently planned. One division of the
biplanes had flown over the southern environs of Berlin; the other
over the northern; now both were turning inwards and just holding
their own against the wind. They had the city at their mercy.
Before the utterly surprised artillerymen manning the anti-aircraft
guns were fully aware of the presence of the British raiders,
powerful bombs were hurtling through the air, each missile aimed with
deliberate intent upon a specified objective and not dropped
haphazard under cover of darkness as in the case of the Zeppelin
raids over England. The railway stations and other public buildings
of military importance were carefully singled out by the airmen, in
spite of the now furious but erratic fire of the German guns,
particular attention being given to the official buildings in the
Wilhelmstrasse, not omitting No. 13--the headquarters of the Imperial
Admiralty.
It was by no means a one-sided engagement, for shrapnel shells were
bursting heavily all around the British machines. As far as Athol and
Dick were concerned they rather welcomed the warm attentions of the
enemy. It was far better to run a fighting risk than to hover
deliberately over a defenceless town and hail projectiles upon a
populace unable to raise a little finger in self-protection.
Already fierce fires were raging in a dozen different quarters of the
German capital. The air trembled with the terrific detonations of
exploding bombs. The dense columns of smoke, beaten almost flat with
the strong wind, prevented the airmen from making definite and
accurate observations of the result of their work, but on the other
hand the vapour hid the attacking aircraft from the artillerymen.
Nevertheless two British biplanes were hit. One, taking fire,
streamed earthwards, leaving a trail of smoke and flame in its wake.
The other, its engine disabled, contrived to land in Thiergarten,
where the pilot and observer were made prisoners.
The secret battleplane had dropped her last bomb and was preparing to
resume her north-eastward flight when a shell burst almost
immediately above her. A hail of bullets rattled against her proofed
sides. One ripped a hole through Blake's airman's helmet, fortunately
without doing further injury. The wings were perforated in fifty
places, although the damage had little effect upon the speed of the
machine. The battleplane literally reeled with the concussion,
recovered herself, and then began to wobble alarmingly in spite of
the efforts on the part of the pilot to keep her on a straight
course.
One of the actuating rods of the left wing, bent by the violent
impact of the base of the shell, was thrown out of action. Sooner or
later the machine would be obliged to descend upon hostile soil,
almost in the very centre of the German Empire.