WING SHOOTING WITH A RIFLE
The blessed, the brave, the indispensable Red Cross! Just back of the
pit, exposed to the vicious German fire and yet intent only upon the
duty of mercy, the panting ambulances were being loaded with their
precious, their pitiful human freight soon to be billeted in warm,
clean, homey hospitals far in the rear where German shells, even from
the biggest guns, might seldom reach. And laboriously through the mud
the springy cars went away, one at a time.
"Herb, I'd like to have been with ye to help stop those devils, but I
couldn't. And if ye can't, how can ye? Now I mebbe never can. It's a
fine, good, hard, tryin' old world, it is, Herb. As me old granddad in
Ireland used to say: 'Whurrah, me lad, but life's mainly disappointin'.'
I know what they'll do to me, me boy. They'll leave me go round as if I
was playin' hop scotch as long as I live, but faith, no longer. Me
leg'll have to come off, Herb; I know it will. But what of it? It's all
in the game."
"I don't believe it, Roy, old man; I think not," the corporal made
answer, sick at heart.
"Come see me at the hospital, Corporal," groaned Smith, rolling his
eyes, that told of suffering, toward his chief. "That is, if I'm still
sticking round there when you can get relieved. If I'm still above
ground I'll look for you."
"Say, Corporal, I want to thank you for being good to me; always jolly
and kind, even when I felt like grumbling. Will you do me a big favor?
You see I can't write with this arm; never can, I guess. Won't you just
drop a line to dad and mother? You have my home address and it would
come better from you than anybody else; and you might say that I didn't
run and hide when the Boches were coming. I think dad always believed I
would do that. Will you?" Such was Geddes' request.
And all Herbert could do was to take their hands and press them, nod
rather violently and perhaps get out a very few words like: "Oh, you'll
be all right. See you later." Had he attempted more he would have quite
broken down; and that, he believed, would not have been exactly the part
of a soldier.
They were gone and the boy turned to his chief. "Lieutenant, there's
only four of us left out of the nine; one dead, three wounded, one a
traitor. This is war! But there's something more to be said; it is, how
to get back at those devils down yonder? Of course, we're after them,
too, but they had no business to start this war."
"I don't think those poor chaps did start it and I don't believe the
most of them would have started it, either, if they'd had any say in the
matter. They are mere puppets, even the higher commanders, working in a
vile system that makes monkeys of them at the behest of their ambitious
and conscienceless rulers, or the one ruler, Kaiser Bill. But as long as
these fellows have made their bed as practical slaves, let them lie in
it as victims, however the fortunes of war may swing, and we have to
teach them a lesson about coming over here too readily; got to get back
at them.
"To-morrow the communicating trench between our pit and the lower trench
will be completed; that is a less distance across No Man's Land and some
of us can join those boys down there in a counter-raid to-morrow night.
"And, Whitcomb, don't be too down-hearted; I see you are. Those fellows
will mend up and we must expect some to be killed. We lost seven in all
and eleven wounded. What is left of you can do very efficient work yet.
The Huns are not done sniping and I will ask for some more men to refill
your squad, along with two other squads of our command to take up the
losses. And say, my boy, keep your eyes open for enemy airplanes; it'll
be good flying weather in the morning and I've a notion they'll try
again to do what the raid failed in. But Susan Nipper will wing 'em if
she gets a show!"
It turned out precisely as the lieutenant predicted. The morning dawned
clear and still, like an Indian summer day in the dear old United States
and the men in the pit and those in the trenches below praised heaven
for smiling upon them and Old Sol for drying up a bit of the bottom ooze
where the trenches were poorly drained. The pit did not suffer so much,
being on high and sloping ground where, even had the bottom been level
and not drained, the rain water would have soon seeped away.
Herbert and Watson went out on the slope to watch for snipers in the
early morning. But no snipers were in evidence and, strangely, they
were not shot at even once; at that time this section could truthfully
be called quiet. Not so?
Well, considering that one airplane engine makes as much noise and keeps
it up longer than the shooting of a machine-gun, and that now no less
than three airplanes made their appearance low down and came on at a
tremendous rate, the quiet sector suddenly took on a different
character. And then Susan Nipper commenced to talk out loud and to do
things spitfire fashion.
At the very first shot, timing the shell fuse long or short, the
foremost plane was hit precisely in the center; a long range wing shot
with a single projectile at that. The German taube went to pieces and to
earth as though it had been a dragon-fly smashed with a brick-bat, and
there could hardly have been enough of the propeller and engine left to
take up with a pitchfork. As for the poor driver and bomber, they passed
into the other world without knowing a thing about it.
But this was no check to the other machines, for the quality of mind
that makes or permits a man to go aloft at all makes of him no coward
under any circumstances. On the two came, straight for the side of the
hill, at such a furious speed that Corporal Letty had time only for one
more shot at them. Hastily timed, this was a clean miss, the shell
bursting high in the air beyond. And the gun squad was making a record
to get in another shell as the machines, one a little above and behind
the other, swept almost over the pit.
Two of the gun squad were working the Colt rapid-fire gun now, but they
did not seem to swing it fast enough, all their stream of missiles being
wasted.
Watson, farther down the slope than Whitcomb, now held to his shoulder a
rifle that was hot with repeated action, and yet he, too, had scored no
hits. Though an airplane, if not over three hundred feet in air and
flying steadily ought to be scored on, its height makes it look mighty
small and hard to hit, and moving objects are no cinches for a single
bullet. As the disappointed fellow stopped to slip in still another
cartridge clip he heard a yell from Herbert.
"Lookout, Watson! Dodge!"
Watson did dodge just in time. He saw a conical-shaped thing descending
toward him and, a baseball player of skill with an eye for
sky-scraper flies, he gauged correctly where that thing was going to
hit and he got away from that place. And when the thing did hit and tore
up the earth and gravel and stones Watson was glad he had dodged.
[Illustration: HE FIRED TWICE IN QUICK SUCCESSION.]
Another was flung down at him, but it went wide, and a third was started
toward Herbert, who stood, spread-legged, gun to shoulder.
There is an art in aiming at a moving object that probably estimates its
speed and direction, the speed of the bullet and allows for all of this.
Herbert's skill with his little .22-caliber at objects tossed in air
stood him in good stead when at rifle practice in the training camp and,
however excited and eager with the necessity of shooting straight, it
did not fail him now.
He fired twice in quick succession, meaning to hit exactly under the
fish-like belly of the machines, directly below where he knew the driver
sat and the first shot he believed he had missed. He felt pretty sure of
the other; he even thought he saw the direct result of it in a glare of
light, a shower of jumbled sparks and stars, and then, there was sudden
blackness.
"What in thunder--how'd I get here?" was the corporal's question of
Lieutenant Jackson, who stood over his cot, smiling a little. But that
was not an important matter just then; there were big comments being
saved for Herbert's return of wits.
"Great Jupiter, my boy! By jingo! I never saw shooting like that! None
of us ever did! The next minute they would have played havoc with things
in here. Letty couldn't get at them and Watson couldn't and not one of
my men, but _you_--oh, _you_ could beat Doc. Carver! Wonderful!"
"Say, if you'd make it a little clearer to me I'd know what you're
referring to," Herb protested. "Let's see; it was--oh, yes; I think I
remember: taubes, weren't they? Where'd they get to?"
"They got to earth, you bet! Can't you recollect? You must have been
worse stunned than I thought. You got 'em both, boy; got 'em both. Hit
the first one so that it went down into the hill above and your second
bullet started something going in the hind machine and it blew up and
tossed those two fellows out and it turned turtle. She lies out there,
looking more like a dump heap at home than anything else. You were hit
by a fragment. You're a dandy!"
"You are that!" echoed Letty, from the opening. "I'll bet those Boches
down there will study awhile before they send on any more fliers here!
Feel better, Whitcomb?"
"Pretty much. Head aches. Any bones busted? Guess not. Sore in spots,
though. Well, getting out in the air and sunshine would feel better.
Want to see what happened," said Herbert, rising from his cot.
"Wonderful! Wonderful shooting!" repeated the lieutenant.
"Yes, and four Boches the less!" declared Letty.
"Is it true? Poor fellows!" said Herbert.
"Poor nothing! They'd have got my gun if you----"
"Hadn't murdered them, poor chaps!" put in Herbert. "This business of
killing makes me sick. But I must get out; they'll be sending others to
drop some more bombs."
"You're a queer chap," said Corporal Letty, and Lieutenant Jackson once
more reiterated: "Wonderful shooting! Wonderful!"
But the Germans sent no more airplanes over on that day, nor many a day
thereafter; they are brave, but rarely foolhardy. And as they appeared
to have lapsed into inactivity for a time, probably seeking some
surprises to spring, it seemed up to the Americans, true to their
reputation for originality, to do some more surprising themselves.
The day wore on uneventfully. Watson and Herbert were replaced on the
slope of No Man's Land by Gardner and Rankin, and the latter once so far
forgot himself as to walk uprightly for about ten yards. Whereupon half
a dozen whiz-bangs, or very light shells, from a small rapid-firer, came
his way. Letty saw whence they came, trained Susan on that whiz-bang
slinger and it went out of commission, along with three men working it.
Rankin, meanwhile, had hunted cover.
Reinforcements arrived, as asked for. They were Regulars and more than
anxious to get into the fighting, the actual work of getting into touch
with the enemy. And, expert with revolvers, they were chosen for the
night's work.
Herbert went to the lieutenant. "We fellows all want to get into this
thing. We know something about work with pistols; perhaps we are as
handy with them as with rifles. It's a cinch that we can do some good."
Lieutenant Jackson hesitated. "If we lose any more of you boys, and you
in particular, Whitcomb, we won't be as sure of holding off attempts to
get at Susan Nipper. But, nevertheless, this once, as it is to be an
effort to demonstrate pistol work almost exclusively, I expect you
fellows ought to be included. Sergeant West is to command; Corporal
Gerry will lead. There will be about forty men and they will start from
the lower communicating trench at about three o'clock to-night. Each man
will carry two revolvers only, and six more rounds of ammunition and go
as light as possible. There will be no barrage, as we want to surprise
them. So be ready."