A CLOUD BATTLE
For some little time the picked squadron that was intrusted with the
difficult and dangerous task of locating the big German gun flew over
the French lines. Below them Tom and Jack could make out various French
camps, the front and supporting lines of trenches, and various other
military works. They could see a brisk artillery duel going on at one
point. They noted the puffs of smoke, but of course could not hear the
explosions, as their own motors were making too much noise.
Tom and Jack kept within sight of one another, and also within view of
their comrades. Each plane was marked with a big number so it could be
distinguished, for the aviators themselves were so wrapped in
fleece-lined clothes, so attired in gauntlets, goggles and fur boots, as
protection against the terrible cold of the upper regions, that one's
closest friend would not recognize him at a near view.
It was the object of this first scouting expedition to make a
preliminary observation over as wide a range of the enemy's country as
possible. While it was hoped that the location of the big gun might be
spied out, it was almost too much to expect to pick out the spot at the
first trial. The Germans were keen and wary, and undoubtedly they would
have laid their plans well.
"Well, I don't see any of 'em coming out to dispute our passage,"
thought Tom, as he looked at his controls and noted by his height gage
that he was now up about two miles. "There isn't a Boche plane in
sight."
And the same thing was observed by Jack and the other fliers. The
Germans seemed to be keeping down, or else were higher up, or perhaps
hidden by some cloud bank.
That was another hazard of the air. Going into a cloud, or above it
might mean, on coming out, that one would find himself in the midst of
enemies.
It is a life full of dangers and surprises. It is this which makes it so
appealing to the young and brave.
On and on flew the Allied planes, and the eager eyes of the pilots were
alternately directed toward the earth and then ahead of them, and upward
to discern the first sight of a Hun machine, if such should venture out.
The fliers were now well over the German lines, and the batteries from
below began firing at them. This was to be expected, and Tom, Jack and
the others had gotten used to the bursts of shrapnel all around them.
They could see the puffs of smoke where the shells burst, but they could
hear no sounds.
"The 'Archies' are busy this morning," thought Jack, as he noted the
firing from below, and using the French slang word for the German
anti-aircraft guns.
He took a quick glance toward Tom's machine to make sure his chum, so
far, was all right. Assured on this point Jack looked to his own craft.
"Well," he mused, "at this point the 'flaming onions' can't get us, but
they may pot us as we go down, as we'll have to if we want to get a good
view of the ground where the big gun may be hidden."
The "flaming onions," referred to by Jack, were rockets shot from a
ground mortar. They have a range of about a mile, and when a series of
them are shot upward in the direction of a hostile plane it is no easy
matter for the aviator to pass through this "barrage." Once a "flaming
onion" touches an aeroplane the craft is set on fire, and then, unless a
miracle happens, the aviator falls to his death.
The German gunners, however, could not use these to advantage while the
French planes kept so high up, though the shrapnel was a menace, for
the Hun guns shot far and with excellent aim. A number of the scout
machines were hit, Tom's receiving three bullets through the wings,
while Jack's engine was nicked once or twice, though with no serious
damage.
But as for the German planes they declined the combat that was offered
them. Probably they had different plans in view. It soon became evident
to Tom, Jack and the others that to fly at that height meant discovering
nothing down below. The distance was too great. The big gun might be
hidden almost anywhere below them, but until it was fired, disclosing
its presence by an unusual volume of smoke, it would not be discovered.
Also its fire might be camouflaged by a salvo from a protecting battery.
"It's about time he did that," said Tom to himself at last, as he
noticed Cerfe, who was the leader of the air squadron, dip his plane in
a certain way, which was the signal for going down. "We've got to get
lower if we want to see anything," the young aviator went on. "Though
they may pot some of us."
Down they went, flying comparatively low but at great speed in order to
offer less of a target to the gunners below them. And, following
instructions, each pilot noted carefully the section of the German
trenches beneath him, and the area back of them. They were seeking the
big gun.
But, though they looked carefully, it could not be seen, and finally
when one of the French machines was badly hit, and the pilot wounded, so
that he had to turn back toward his own lines, Cerfe gave the signal for
the return.
In all this time not a Hun plane had come out to give battle. What the
reason for this was could only be guessed at. It may have been that none
of the German machines was available, or that skillful pilots, capable
of sustaining a fight with the veterans of the French, were not on hand
just then. However that may have been, Tom, Jack and the others, after
firing a few rounds from their machine guns at the trenches, though
without hope of doing much damage, turned back toward Camp Lincoln.
"Well, then you did not discover anything?" asked Major de Trouville,
who had been transferred and given the command at Camp Lincoln.
"Nothing," answered Jack.
"If it's in the section we covered, it is well hidden," added Tom.
"And I think, don't you know," went on the Englishman, Haught, "that the
only way we'll be able to hit on the bally mortar is to fly low and take
photographs."
"That's my idea," said the major. "If we take a series of photographs
we can develop them, enlarge them, if necessary, and examine them at our
leisure. I had thought of this, but it's a slow plan, and it
means--casualties. But I suppose that can't be avoided. But I wanted to
try the scouting machines first.
"After all, the taking of photographs from the air of the enemy trenches
and the land behind them is a most valuable method of getting
information," he continued.
Men, specially trained for such observation work, examine the
photographs after the aviators return with the films, and they can tell,
by signs that an ordinary person would pass over, whether there is a new
battery camouflaged in the vicinity, whether preparations are under way
for receiving a large number of troops, or whether a general advance is
contemplated. Then measures to oppose this can be started. So, Major de
Trouville was right, photography forms a valuable part of the new
warfare.
The photographing of the enemy positions is done in big, heavy machines,
carrying two men. They must fly comparatively low, and have not much
speed, though they are armed, and it takes considerable of an attack to
bring them down. But of course the pilot and his observer are in danger,
and, to protect them as much as possible, scout planes--the single-seat
Nieuports--are sent out in squadrons to hover about and give battle to
the German aircraft that come out to drive off the photographers.
"We'll undertake that," proceeded Major de Trouville. "I'll order the
big machine to get ready for an attempt to-morrow at locating the gun."
"Is it still shooting?" asked Jack.
"Yes, it has just been bombarding Paris; but I have no reports yet as to
the damage done."
"Aren't we doing anything at all?" asked Tom.
"Oh, yes, our batteries are keeping up a fire on the German lines along
the front behind which we think the gun is concealed, but what the
results are yet, we don't know."
"Well, let's hope for clear weather to-morrow," suggested Boughton.
The intervening time was occupied by the aviators in getting everything
in readiness. The machines were inspected, the automatic guns gone over,
and nothing left undone that could be thought of to give success.
The next day dawned clear and bright, and, as soon as it was light
enough to make successful photographs, the big machine set out, while
hovering above and to either side of it were several Nieuports. Tom and
Jack were each occupying one of these, ready to give battle to the Huns
above or below the clouds.
In order to distract the attention of the Germans as much as possible
from the direct front where the airships were to cross the lines, a
violent artillery fire was maintained on either flank. To this the
Germans replied, perhaps thinking an engagement was pending. And so,
amid the roar of big guns, the flying squadron got off.
"Now we'll see what luck we'll have," mused Tom, as he drove his machine
forward, being one of the large aerial "V" that had for its angle the
ponderous photographing bi-motored machine.
Over the German lines they flew, and then the Germans awoke to the
necessity of ignoring the fire on their flanks and began shooting at the
airships over their heads.
"This ought to bring out their pilots if they have any sporting blood,"
thought Jack.
And it did. The French and their allies were no more than well over
German-occupied territory, before a whole German air fleet swarmed up
and advanced to give battle. They flew high, intending to get above
their enemies, and so in the most favorable fighting position. But Tom,
Jack and the others saw this, and also began to elevate their planes.
"We certainly are going up!" mused Tom, as he noted the needle of his
height gage showing an altitude of twelve thousand feet. "When are they
going to stop? We're high above the clouds now."
That was true as regarded himself, Jack, and two other French planes.
But still the Germans climbed. Doubtless some of them were engaging the
big machine which was low down, trying to take photographs, but Cerfe
and Boughton were guarding that.
"Here comes one at me, anyhow!" thought Tom, as he saw a Hun machine
headed for him.
"Well, the sooner it's over the better. Here goes!" and he pressed the
release of his automatic gun, meanwhile heading his craft full at the
German to direct the fire, for that is how the guns are aimed in a
Nieuport, the gun being stationary.
And so began the battle above the clouds.