IN THE ENEMY'S COUNTRY
Dicky Mann became more interested in the study of maps and their
making than he would have thought it possible. When he came sufficiently
closely in touch with the intricate system by which the air-photograph
and accurate map of every point behind the enemy line is carefully
tabulated and filed away for reference, he developed a keenness for
the work which made him a valuable member of the organization.
The Brighton boys found, as time went on, that they had, quite
frequently, some spare hours in which they could do as they wished.
Soon after their arrival in France they had envied Bob Haines his
knowledge of the French language, which, while rudimentary, was
sufficient to enable him to make himself understood at times when
the boys were quite at sea as to what he was trying to say to the
French people to whom he was talking.
No sooner had the boys noticed that Bob had a decided advantage over
the rest of them on this score, than they set about to catch up with
him. But Bob was equally set on keeping the lead he had gained. Joe
Little and Dicky Mann were his only real rivals in this field. Dicky
had one assistant that was of the greatest use to him in the frequent
companionship of Dubois, the French officer attached to headquarters.
While Dicky's French was often ungrammatical, his pronunciation was
good, much better, in fact, than either Joe's or Bob's.
One day Dicky was sent as an observer with Richardson, the little
major who usually accompanied that clever pilot being away on temporary
leave. Dicky pleased headquarters so much with his initial report
that more and more observation work was given him. Thus he gained
valuable experience which bade fair to ensure that he would be kept
at observing most of the time.
The boy was inclined at first to regret this, for the obvious reason
that those who did the flying work were much more "in the picture,"
as Dicky put it, but the real fascination of the observation work
soon weaned him from any genuine desire to give it up. To his great
delight he was at last put on the observation staff permanently, or
at least was given regular work with that department---and who should
be assigned to pilot him but Bob Haines! To be with Bob, of whom
Dicky was especially fond, was a genuine pleasure to him, and the
combination proved a very good one from every standpoint. Bob's
passion for photographic work and Dicky's absorbing interest in
mapping operations resulted in their approaching their joint work
in a spirit of splendid enthusiasm for it, which could not but
produce good results.
Aeroplane work in war-time, however, has its "ups and downs," as
Jimmy Hill would say in his weekly letters home. He rarely missed
a fortnight that this sage observation did not appear in some part
of his four-page epistle. Jimmy stuck religiously to four pages,
though he knew enough of censorship rules to avoid mention of his
work, except in vague generalities. This necessity made writing
four pages dull work at times, and resulted in Jimmy's adoption of
various set phrases as filling matter. His mother, who knew Jimmy
as only mothers know their sons, read into the often repeated
sentences Jimmy's ardent desire to show himself a ready and willing
correspondent, when he was nothing of the kind. She loved those
letters none the less for their sameness, thereby showing her
mother-wisdom.
Thus far in the career of the Brighton boys with the aero forces at
the front their fortune had been on the side of the ups. The time
came when the downs had an inning.
Bad luck overtook Bob Haines and Dicky Mann while on an observation
flight far over the firing lines and well inside territory occupied
by the enemy. They were on their outward journey, bound for a point
which they hoped to photograph quickly and then run for home. The
day was not an ideal one for flying, as shifting clouds gathered here
and there, some high up, some low. When they were in the vicinity
of their objective the clouds beneath them obscured their view to an
annoying extent. They had seen no other plane, friend or enemy,
since they had left their own lines. Suddenly, without the slightest
warning, the engine stopped. Bob switched off the power, switched
it on again, and repeated the maneuver again and again while volplaning
to preserve their momentum.
Try as he would, he could not get a single explosion out of the motor.
Of fuel he had plenty. His wires and terminals---so much as he could
see of them---were apparently in good order, but the engine had just
coolly stopped of its own accord, and could not be coaxed to start again.
Dicky looked round at Bob from the observer's seat in the fuselage
and raised his eyebrows inquiringly. His glance fell on Bob's white,
set face, and he saw that Bob was methodically going over one thing
after another, and trying first this, then that, as if examining
every part of the plane's mechanism that he could reach. They were
still above the low-lying clouds that hid the earth.
"Engine?" queried Dicky.
Bob nodded. Still he ran his hands over the controls, as if loath
to believe that he had exhausted every possibility of finding and
rectifying the trouble. It was all in vain.
Still they swept lower and lower. Soon they would be below the clouds,
and soon after that, landing so far inside the German lines that by
no possibility could they hope to regain their own. It was a
bitter time for Bob. Dicky, curiously enough, took the first
realization of their predicament less hard. He was all eyes to see
what fate had in store for them in the way of a landing place.
As they swept through the last bank of clouds and the country below
spread before them, they saw that it was level pasture land for the
most part, divided by green hedges, with here and there a cultivated
field. A village lay some distance to the left, a mere cluster of
mean houses. No chateau or large building was in sight, but small
cottages were dotted about here and there in plenty.
"Not much room in one of those pastures," commented Dicky. "Mind you
pick a decent one. Don't spoil the hedge on the other side of it,
either."
Dicky's mood was infectious. Bob was sick at heart, but his friend's
joking way of speaking had its effect.
"Would you rather be starved to death or neatly smashed? Do you prefer
your misery long drawn out or all over in a jiffy?" Bob was joking
now, though grimly enough.
"You tend to your part and let the Huns tend to theirs," answered
Jimmy.
They were almost down now. As they approached the field which Bob
had chosen for landing, what was their horror to see, but one field
away, two German soldiers in their field gray! They were armed with
rifles, and appeared to be carrying full field kit.
No others were in sight. The two burly Teutons looked in amazement at
the aeroplane, as if unable to grasp the fact that it was plainly
marked with the red, white and blue circles stamping it as a machine
belonging to the Allied armies.
While the boys knew well where they were, and how impossible it seemed
that they could escape capture eventually, the sight of two German
soldiers right at the spot upon which they had so unfortunately
been compelled to land, was a real disappointment to them. Perhaps
it was just such a disappointment, however, that was needed to key
them up to prompt action.
Bob did not dare to try to clear the tall, thick hedge which separated
the field he had chosen for a landing place from the one next to it.
He must stick to his original intention. As he swooped down to the
fairly level ground Dicky took one last glance at the pair of
soldiers, who had started toward the point where they thought the
plane would land. The question in Dicky's mind was as to whether
or not the Boches would take a pot shot at the airmen before the
machine came to rest. Evidently that had not occurred to them,
however, and they merely started on a run, with the humane idea of
taking the aviators prisoner.
The machine taxied the full length of the pasture and went full tilt
into the hedge at the end of it. Luckily this hedge was just thick
enough to stop the aeroplane effectively and yet prevent it from
breaking through and capsizing. While the machine did not go on
through the hedge, the two boys did. They crashed through and
landed on the soft earth on the other side at almost the same moment.
Each turned quickly to the other as they picked themselves up.
Neither was seriously hurt, though Bob was badly shaken, and had
scraped most of the skin off the front of both shins. Dicky's head
had burrowed into the soft turf, and but for his aviator's cap he
might have been badly bruised. That protection had saved him all
injury save a skinned shoulder.
"Come on, let's give 'em a run for it!" yelled Dicky, who was first
to recover his breath.
He started off, keeping close to the hedge, Bob close on his heels.
As they approached the corner of the field they were faced with
another hedge, evidently of much the same character as the one through
which the boys had been hurled so unceremoniously a moment before.
Inspired by a sudden thought, he put on a burst of speed, ran straight
up to the leafy barrier, and dove right at it, head first as he
used to "hit the center" for dear old Brighton. His maneuver did not
carry him quite through, but he managed to wriggle on just in time
to clear the way for Bob, who dived after him.
It was no time for words. Dicky started off to the right as fast
as he could go, ever keeping close to the protecting hedge, running
swiftly and silently over the grass, Bob not many feet behind. One
hundred yards of rapid sprinting brought them to a lower, thinner
hedge through which they climbed easily. Fifty yards away was a
stream, which they jumped, finding themselves in a small wood. They
made their way through this and debouched on a narrow country lane.
The countryside seemed to contain no one except the two fleeing
Americans and the two pursuing Germans. No sort of ground could
have suited better the game of hide-and-seek they had started.
Each time the Boches came to a hedge or a bit of brush they had
to guess which way the Yanks had turned. Only once were they guided
by footprints.
Fully accoutered and loath to throw off any of their equipment, the
two Germans soon became thoroughly winded, and finally stopped short.
They had no doubt lost some minutes at the start by warily examining
the plane and all around it for signs of the former occupants, which
had given the Brighton boys just the start they so badly needed.
But the lads were really but little better off when they came to the
conclusion that they had, for the time, at least, shaken off their
pursuers. They had passed fairly close to a cottage, which was
apparently untenanted. Now they came upon another. No signs of
life could they see around it. They pulled up for the first time
and stood behind a rude shack nearby.
"Lot of good it will do us to run away from those two," growled Bob,
panting. "If they don't find us some other Boches will. It is only
prolonging the agony."
"I prefer the agony of being free to the agony of being a prisoner,
just the same," replied Dicky. "Those two soldiers may have a job
on that will not allow them to hang around here long. We have come
quite a distance, and they would be very lucky to find us now. I'll
bet they have gone on about their business. They will report the
fact that a plane came down, and whoever comes to find it will think
some other fellows have picked us up. This is too big a war for
anyone to worry much about two men. Besides, the very hopelessness
of our fix is in our favor."
"I don't mind looking for silver linings to the cloud," said Bob.
"But how you make that out I cannot see."
"Why, who would ever dream that we could get away? Who would even
imagine it possible? Will the Germans spend much time searching to
see if two Americans are hiding so far inside their lines? Of course
not. They will think it absolutely impossible that we could get any
distance without being picked up. Why should they waste their time
over us?"
"Well, is that cheering?"
"You bet it is!"
"Do you mean that there is a chance that we will not be picked up?"
"Of course I do. Cheer up! We are not caught yet. Sicker chaps
than we are have got well. True we can't get back to our front;
and true again the chances are thousands to one against our escaping
capture, but Holland is somewhere back of us and to the north---and
we have that one chance, in spite of all the odds."
"And what'll they do to us in Holland---intern us for the duration of
the war!" Bob was still pessimistic.
"Oh, you can't tell. If we can get away from the Boches we can
surely get away from the easy-going Dutchmen---and anyway, if we
must be interned I'd rather it happened in Holland than in Hun-land.
Let's play the game till time is called."
"You're right," said Bob. "I ought to be ashamed of myself for losing
heart. Let's forget that we came down in that plane, and think of
ourselves as pedestrians. I remember reading somewhere that if you
want to play a part you've got to imagine yourself living it. Let's
think we are Belgians."
"Good! And let's look like Belgians too---I guess to do that we will
have to turn burglar, eh? Well---they say all's fair in love and war,
you know. Come on! Let's break into this house and see what we
can find?"