A BATTLE OF THE AIR
What Roger had said was only too true. The advance of the American
army had been halted, at least temporarily, by a sudden attack from
a large number of German aëroplanes. The Fokkers had arisen from far
enough back of the place where the American shells were falling to
escape them. And then they had sailed directly over the advancing
Americans, the center formation of the Huns' ships of the air being
almost directly over where our five heroes were now stationed in the
woods.
"Bombs! I should say so!" cried Jimmy, as one landed on the other edge
of the woods, and blew a great hole in the ground. "This is getting
too close for comfort!"
The German machines, having flown from the direction of their own
lines across the American front, dropping bombs that did great
execution, were now coming back again, to repeat the performance, it
was very evident.
"Why didn't we bring up some anti-aircraft guns?" demanded Bob,
as though some officer, immediately over him, had neglected this
precaution.
"Guess no one expected the Huns would try this trick," said Roger.
"It's a daring move, all right."
"And it's a dangerous one for us, too!" added Jimmy, grimly. "These
woods are a pretty good protection against shrapnel and machine-gun
fire, but they're absolutely useless when it comes to screening us
from aëroplane bombs. Of course we can hide from the sight of the
flying Huns, but they must know this wood is full of Americans, and
a bomb dropped anywhere among the trees will get some of us. It's
fierce!"
"You said it!" cried Franz. "Wow! That was a bad one!"
A bomb--one of the winged affairs that wrought such deadly havoc in
Paris and London--had fallen not one hundred feet from where the five
Brothers were crouching in the underbrush. The concussion jarred
them, and the force of the explosion uprooted several large trees that
injured a number of the command, while the bomb itself killed three in
dreadful fashion.
"Why don't our flying lads get after 'em?" demanded Franz. "Surely we
have some planes over here now--in fact, I know we have; though not
nearly enough. Where are they?"
Well might he ask that, for the Germans were circling around, now over
the woods and again over the open country, dropping their bombs, which
exploded, doing terrible damage, killing and wounding many.
Suddenly Bob, who was gazing skyward in despair, clutched Jimmy's arm
and cried:
"Look! Look! There they are! There come our boys! American machines!
See the Indian head! Now we'll see Mr. Hun on the run! Oh, boy!"
Jimmy gazed for a moment in the direction indicated by his excited
churn. Then he exclaimed:
"You're right! The American aviators are here at last, and I'll wager
it wasn't their fault that they didn't get here sooner! Now for a
fight in the air!"
And up just beneath the clouds, sometimes out of sight in the mist,
the American flying men attacked the enemy. Now there was no time for
the Huns to loose their bombs. They must look to their own safety. No
longer did they have all the odds on their side.
"Look! Look! See our man engage those two!" shouted Roger.
They all saw what he meant. One intrepid American airman had headed
for two Fokkers which were flying directly toward him, close together.
But in another instant one of the German planes was seen to swerve
to one side, and then it darted downward, and in a manner to indicate
that its pilot had been killed or wounded, for the machine was out of
control. Like a dead leaf it descended, crashing into a shapeless mass
in a field some distance from the woods.
"Now he's after the other!" cried Bob. "Oh, they're going to collide!"
But he spoke without knowledge of the skill to be shown by the
American pilot and his accompanying gunner. For, just as it appeared
as though the two hostile craft would come together in a mid-air
crash, the American machine seemed to slide up and over its opponent.
And then, just as the first German had done, the enemy craft crumpled
up, and down it went in dizzying whirls.
"Two at once! That's going some!" yelled Jimmy, capering about. They
were comparatively out of danger now, sheltered as they were in
the woods from the artillery and rifle and machine-gun fire of the
Germans. And no more airship bombs were being dropped.
"Some stunt, that!" declared Bob. "Wonder who they were--those
Americans?"
"I hope they live through it so we can find out," voiced Franz. The
battle in the air was now going on fiercely. There were ten American
machines attacking more than double that number of Germans, and, as
was always the case, the Huns were brave when they had the numerical
advantage. They fought bitterly, and with skill--that could not be
denied. And before the battle had been going on very long two American
machines had been shot down. Whether the men in them had been killed,
or not, remained to be seen.
"It's sort of going against us," said Jimmy, with a dry, choking sob.
"This is fierce!" cried Roger. "Why don't we send up some more
machines?"
"Haven't got 'em, maybe," remarked Franz. "Oh, look at that! They
collided head on!"
This actually happened. One of the larger American machines, the
ammunition probably having given out, was being attacked by a German
Fokker. Knowing that it was either kill or be killed, the pilot of the
craft with the Indian head painted on the underside of the wings took
a desperate chance.
Straightening out his craft, he headed it directly toward that of his
enemy. The latter tried to steer out of the way when it was seen what
the game would be, but he was unable to do so.
They came together with what must have been a fearful crash, though of
course not the faintest echo of it could be heard down in the woods.
And then, locked together in a death embrace, the two machines hurtled
over and over to earth, bursting into flames as they fell. They
smashed down in a swamp, and all four airmen were killed--the two
brave Americans and their perhaps no less intrepid German fighters.
"It's going to be a tight squeeze!" murmured Roger, as he and the
others gazed aloft. "There's three of our machines done for and here
come some more Germans. Oh, this is fierce!"
"More German machines? Where!" cried Jimmy.
"There!" and Roger pointed to the sky behind the German planes. "Ten
more of 'em!" he cried. "Now we're done for, sure!"
"Those aren't Hun planes! They're French!" yelled Bob. "See, they're
French! They've circled up behind the Germans! Now we have 'em between
two fires!"
And this was just what happened. The French, seeing that the battle of
the air was going against their American allies, had hastily sent up
a squadron of speedy craft. These arose very high, flew over and above
the Germans, out of sight, and then, coming down, attacked them in the
rear.
This was too much for Fritz. He had no taste for a battle against even
less odds than this. The Fokkers turned to flee, but it was too late
for all but two of them. These managed to elude the American and
French cloud-fighters and disappeared in the mist in the direction of
the German lines. It was presumed they reached there safely.
One after another the German machines were sent down, though at a
price, for three Frenchmen were killed and another American went to
his death. But he had paved the way with two Hun craft to his credit.
"Now it's over--all but the shouting!" cried Roger, and he was
capering about in an improvised dance of joy when Bob cried:
"Look! Look! Here comes a German machine down, and it's going to land
right about here! Oh, boy! This is bringing 'em down for keeps!"
His chums looked to where he pointed. A German craft was coming down,
but in such fashion that showed it was in volplane control, at least.
Swiftly it came down, headed for a field not far from the woods, in
the edge of which were the five Brothers.