A BOLD PROJECT
"Pitch in, please!" urged the impatient Jack Parmly.
"Listen, then, boys," commenced the other earnestly. "You doubtless know
that I've got more money than is good for any single man to handle? Well,
I've squandered a small bunch of it in having a wonderful plane made and
sent abroad. Of course it's intended to be handed over to the Government
in due course of time, but with the proviso that they allow me to
engineer the first long flight in it."
"That sounds interesting, Lieutenant," admitted Jack, apparently
considerably impressed.
"Tell us some more about it, please," urged the practical Tom.
"It's possibly by long odds the largest bombing plane that so far has
ever been built, even beating those big Caproni machines of Italy that
can carry a dozen in the crew. This Martin bomber can be run by three
hands, although several more might be used if the right kind were found.
Its possibilities in the way of distance and continued flight can
hardly be estimated, since all depends on the cargo carried. The less
crew, the more petrol and bombs to make up the load."
"Yes, we get that, Lieutenant," said Jack, as the other paused briefly,
possibly to get his breath, and then again because he wished the
information to sink slowly into their minds.
"With this monster biplane I assure you it will be an easy matter to fly
all the way to Berlin, bomb the city so as to terrify the inhabitants
even as they tried to do to Londoners, turn around, and return here
without touching ground once; yes, and if necessary, repeating the trip."
Jack showed intense excitement, while Tom too was deeply interested.
"We knew that thing would soon arrive," the latter said; "and they say
the Germans are getting cold feet already with the prospect before them.
But it's come a little sooner than I, for one, expected. What's your big
scheme, Lieutenant?"
"Berlin or bust?" chanced Jack explosively.
"You've hit the right nail on the head, Parmly," admitted the other,
with a nod of appreciation. "I mean to show that it can be done. Just as
soon as I can get that big bomber here, and the permission to take on
the job, well start some fine night for Berlin and give Heine the jolt
of his life."
Jack thrust out his hand impulsively.
"You can count for one on my going, Lieutenant; that is, provided I get
permission from the boss!" he announced promptly.
"I'm inclined to say the same," Tom added quietly, though his face
displayed an eagerness he did not otherwise betray.
With that Lieutenant Beverly squeezed a hand of each.
"I mean to start things going shortly," he told them. "And you'll surely
hear from me, for I must keep track of you boys."
"Where is the big Martin bomber now, did you say?" asked Jack.
"I didn't mention the fact, but it lies hidden in a special hangar on the
French coast, not a great distance from Dunkirk," came the answer. "I
have a special guard watching it, and my mechanics keep everything
ready for any sudden call. Right now she's tuned up to top-notch pitch,
and a full supply of gas is kept on hand all the time, as well as
everything needed in the way of supplies. That's where money talks."
Jack looked his admiration, and then burst out with:
"You're sure a dandy, Lieutenant Beverly, and if ever you undertake that
wonderful trip to Berlin and back I only hope I have the great good luck
to be aboard."
"Consider it settled then," he was told. "And now that I've found my
comrades for the venture I can go about further details, and start
getting the consent of Headquarters to the enterprise. One of these
nights Berlin is going to get a shock that may help bring the war to a
speedy close."
"Here's our dugout," said Tom. "We're going back to work again after I've
bandaged Jack's finger, for he gave it an ugly scratch when handling the
gun, he doesn't himself know just how. Can we do anything further for you
right now, Lieutenant?"
"Thank you, nothing, Raymond. I shall get on nicely. I'll rest up a day
or so while things are simmering connected with that big affair. Of
course it's to be a great secret among the three of us; not another soul
knows anything about my project or the giant bombing plane I had shipped
over to France."
"That's understood, and we're as mum as a couple of clams," Jack told
him; and so they separated, little dreaming at the moment what a
remarkable series of circumstances were fated to arise that would bring
them together for the carrying out of an enterprise greater than
anything as yet recorded in the annals of aerial exploits.
Tom and Jack were back on the field before half an hour had elapsed,
making a fresh start for the clouds, just as eager as ever to have some
adventurous Hun airman accept their challenge and give them battle.
For a whole hour did they fly back and forth in the disputed territory
between the two armies. Far beneath they could see by the aid of the
powerful binoculars marching columns of soldiers, all heading toward the
northwest. These they knew to be the German forces, making one of their
regular daily retreats in fairly good order.
Behind them the Hun armies left innumerable nests of machine-gunners to
dispute the advance of the Yankee battalions, and hold them in check,
even at the price of utter annihilation. Many times the men selected for
this sacrifice to the Fatherland held grimly on until they were
completely wiped out by the sweep of the Americans.
Occasionally one of the Yankee pilots, provoked because none of the enemy
dared to accept the gauge of battle he flung before them, would swoop
down and try to make a target of these marching columns. Then for a brief
period there would be exciting work, with the machine gun of the
scurrying plane splashing its spray of bullets amidst the scurrying
soldiers, and the daring pilot in return taking their volleys.
Perhaps, if the boldness of the Americans caused them to take too great
chances, there might be one less plane return to its starting point that
day; and the report would be brought in that the pilot had "met his fate
in the discharge of his duty."
Wearied at length of the useless task, the Air Service Boys finally gave
it up for that afternoon. Jack in particular showed signs of keen
disappointment, for he always chafed under inaction.
"There was some talk of another raid for tonight, you remember, Tom," he
said, when they once more alighted and gave the plane over into the
charge of the hostlers; "and if it turns out that way I only hope we're
detailed to go along to guard the bombers. It's growing worse and worse
right along these days, when Fritz seems to have gotten cold feet and
refuses to accept a dare."
"I see fellows reading letters," remarked Tom suddenly. "Let's hope there
is something for us."
"It's been a long time since I heard from home," sighed Jack. "I
certainly hope everything is going on well in old Virginia these days.
There's Captain Peters waving something at us right now, Tom!"
"Letters, Jack, and a sheaf of them at that!"
"Come on, let's run!" urged the impatient one, suiting his actions to the
words by starting off on a gallop.
Tom took it a little more slowly so that when he arrived and received his
letters from the aviation instructor, who happened to be in the camp at
the time, Jack was already deeply immersed in one which he had received.
It was late in the afternoon. The sun hung low in the west, looking fiery
red, which promised a fair day on the morrow. Once he had his letters,
however, Tom paid but scant attention to anything else.
His news from Virginia must have been pleasant, if one could judge from
the smile that rested upon his wind and sun-tanned face as he read on.
Again in memory he could see those loved ones in the old familiar haunts,
going about their daily tasks, or enjoying themselves as usual. And
whenever they sat under the well-remembered tree in the cool of the early
fall evening, with the soft Virginia air fanning their cheeks, the red
and golden hues of frost-touched leaves above them, he knew their talk
was mostly of him, the absent one, most fondly loved.
Tom looked up. He thought he had heard a groan, or something very
similar, break from the lips of his chum. It startled Tom so that when he
saw how troubled Jack looked a spasm of alarm gripped his heart.
"Why, what is the matter with you?" he cried, leaning forward and laying
a hand on the other's arm. "Have you had bad news from home?"
Jack nodded his head, and as he turned his eyes his chum saw there was a
look of acute anxiety in them.
"No one dead, or sick, I hope, Jack?" continued the other apprehensively.
"No, at least that is spared me, Tom; they are all well. But just the
same, it's a bad muddle. And the worst of it is I'm thousands of miles
off, held up by army regulations, when I ought to get home for a short
visit right away."
"See here, is it anything connected with that Burson property--has that
matter come to a head at last?" demanded Tom, as a light dawned upon him.
"Nothing less," assented the other gloomily. "The issue has been suddenly
forced, and may be settled any day. If I'm not there, according to the
eccentric will of my uncle, Joshua Adams Kinkaid, that property will fall
into the hands of my cousin, Randolph Carringford, who, as we both know,
is just at present over here acting in a confidential capacity to some
Government official."
"Yes, I've seen him," said Tom, frowning. "And to tell the honest truth
his face didn't impress me strongly. In fact, I didn't like your cousin.
What's the use? All Virginia knows that Randolph Carringford is a black
sheep--that no decent man or woman will acknowledge him for a friend.
Wonder what Joshua Kinkaid meant, anyhow, by ringing him in. But are the
lands worth as much as it was believed, Jack?"
"I learn in this letter from our lawyer that the richest kind of coal
veins have been located on the Burson property in West Virginia; and that
they promise to be valued at possibly a million dollars. Think of what
that would mean to the Parmly family! For we are far from being rich.
Father lost his grip on business you know, Tom, when he volunteered, and
went into the Spanish war, and when he died did not leave very much."
"Do you suppose your cousin knows anything about this new development?"
continued Tom sympathetically.
"He is too greedy not to have looked after every possible chance," came
Jack's despondent reply. "And now that this thing's come up I can begin
to understand why he kept smiling in that way all the time he chatted
with me a week ago when we chanced to meet. I think he had had a tip
even then that this thing was coming off, and was laying his plans.
Though how he could known, I can't imagine."
"Then you suspect he may already be on his way across, and will arrive
before you can get there to put in your claim?" asked Tom.
"Even allowing that he had no news until this mail got in, Tom, he'd get
off a whole lot easier that I'll ever be able to, and so could catch a
boat, while I kept untwisting the army red tape. It's a bad job all
around, I'm afraid, and bound to make me feel blue."
"There's only one thing for you to do, Jack." remarked the energetic chum
promptly, and his confidence gave the other considerable satisfaction.
"What is that?"
"Apply for leave at once. And include me at the same time, because I'll
go with you, of course, Jack. We'll try to get back in time to join in
the grand march to the Rhine. Promise me to do this before we sleep
to-night!"
"I will, Tom, and here's my hand on it!"