THE FALLING PLANE
Bright and early the next morning Blake Stewart and Joe Duncan reported
as they had been instructed to do, and found their speculations of the
previous day justified.
“Those films you took yesterday turned out first rate,” said Merrick,
their commander. “Now, to-day, we want to get some films of territory
in the rear of the German positions. Of course, you understand this
will be a lot more dangerous work than you were doing yesterday. You
will have a rather excellent chance of getting shot down, as the
German planes in this sector are very active, and besides that they
have numerous batteries of anti-aircraft guns.” As he said this, he
looked at them keenly, but could find no signs of dismay in their
deeply-bronzed features.
“We’ve been through some pretty bad stuff, sir, and I guess you can’t
scare us away from this,” said Blake, and the officer broke into a grim
smile.
“No, I think I agree with you,” he said. “Well, then, this is what I
want you to do,” and he proceeded to give them full instructions.
“You will have the same machine at your disposal as you had yesterday,”
he concluded, “and will be accompanied by two fast fighting planes,
that will engage the enemy if you are attacked. And I want to impress
on you both the necessity of getting these pictures at any cost.”
“We’ll do our very best, sir,” stated Blake, and then, the interview
being at an end, the moving picture boys saluted and went in search of
their outfit.
It did not take them long to get ready, and in a very short time they
found themselves in the same seats they had occupied during yesterday’s
flight. The two wasp-like fighting planes that had been detailed to
convoy the heavier observation machine, were already aloft, their
motors humming as they slowly circled, waiting for the big machine to
come up.
When all was ready, Trent gave the word to the mechanician, as
formerly, and the powerful plane rose from the ground and joined its
companions aloft. When it had reached an altitude of about a thousand
feet, the battle planes flew alongside, one on each side, and a little
above, and they straightened out in a bee line for the enemy territory.
According to their orders, they were not to take any pictures
until they were actually over the enemy trenches, so they had more
opportunity than before to note what went on about them. They had time
to drink in the magnificence of the scene spread out before them, mile
after mile, as far as the eye could reach. They could also notice the
masterly way in which the pilot maneuvered his machine, going up or
down, slower or faster, by an almost imperceptible movement of his
controlling levers. They gave little thought to the dangers that lay
ahead, having learned not to cross bridges until they came to them.
All three planes were travelling fast, and it was not long before they
reached the outskirts of their own lines, and then found themselves
actually over German territory, as Joe afterward said, “with nothing
between them and Berlin but air.”
Their cameras were all ready for business, and without any delay they
started sending the new films through. As yet they had met with no
opposition from the enemy, but presently they heard a loud explosion
ahead and a little to one side, and felt the aeroplane rock as the
disturbed air buffeted it.
The aviator gave a fleeting glance behind him, to see what his
passengers were doing, but found them industriously turning the cranks
of their machines, and apparently no more minding the bombardment
that had now set in than he himself did. The German batteries were
in full swing by this time, and little white puffs of smoke were
breaking all about them. The big plane rocked and swayed, but not one
of its occupants even dreamed of giving up until their objects were
attained, and they held steadily onward. The two escorting planes were
by now high above the heavier machine, taking their altitude so as to
be ready for any Hun machines that might be lurking in the higher air
strata. Several times shrapnel bullets whistled through the wings of
the aeroplane, or spatted against the engine, but by good fortune none
of its occupants had been hit so far, nor had any vital part of the
machinery been damaged.
The boys were just starting on their last reel, when Blake, in spite
of the absorption of his task, suddenly sensed that all was not well
with their motor, which up to now had been roaring its deep-throated
song without any sign of faltering. But now there was a hesitation and
irregularity in its note that boded trouble. Blake saw the pilot lean
over, evidently doing his best to remedy matters, but apparently to no
avail. The “missing” of the engine became worse, and then the motor
suddenly stopped altogether.
“We’ll have to land!” yelled Trent, over his shoulder. “The engine’s
burnt up, and we’ve got to take ground.”
The boys felt a great sinking of the heart, for they knew that this
meant capture by the Germans, and not only of themselves, but of their
precious films. However, there was nothing else to be done, and they
nerved themselves for what was before them.
The aeroplane volplaned swiftly, the earth seeming to rise up to meet
them. Their escorting machines, of course, could do nothing to save
them, and when they saw that the big machine was making a landing, they
turned and headed back for the American lines.
The big observation plane took the ground gently, and was immediately
surrounded by gray-coated Germans. One of these, evidently an officer,
stepped forward with leveled pistol, and demanded their surrender.
Of course, there was nothing the Americans could do but accept their
fate as gracefully as possible, so they stepped out of the plane, and,
much as it went against the grain, gave themselves up as prisoners of
war. At a gesture and guttural word of command from the German officer,
they were surrounded and disarmed, and then the officer ordered a
search of the aeroplane to be made. His eyes lighted up when he saw the
cameras and films, for he guessed that here was a prize worth having.
As he lifted them from the machine, the soldiers guarding the
Americans relaxed their vigilance for a moment, in an endeavor to see
what it was that had been captured, and Blake, always on the alert, was
quick to seize the opportunity thus afforded. He noted that there was a
strip of thick woods some hundred yards from where they stood, and in
a flash it crossed his mind that if he and his companions could reach
this woods, they might make good their escape.
Stealthily he touched Joe and Trent on the arm, and glanced meaningly
toward the trees. They were not slow in grasping his meaning, and
suddenly all broke through the Germans surrounding them, and raced at
top speed for the sheltering woods.
The slow-witted Germans were taken completely by surprise, and to a
spectator it would have been comical to see their clumsy and frantic
efforts to get their rifles into position and fire. They wasted
several precious seconds, that were as the breath of life to the three
Americans, racing for their lives. They had covered almost half the
distance before the first bullets began to sing past their ears. They
crouched low, and, following Blake’s example, ran in jerky zig-zags,
disconcerting the aim of their enemies. But the little, steel-coated
bullets were singing all about them, and the line of trees still
seemed a long way off. Suddenly the aviator, Trent, gave a sharp cry,
staggered on a few steps with his own momentum, and then crumpled to
the ground.
Grief was in the boys’ hearts, but they knew that to stop would only
sacrifice their own lives, without in any way benefitting Trent, who,
indeed, had received a bullet through the head and was dead before he
struck the ground.
With a final desperate burst of speed, the two boys dashed forward,
and found themselves at last in the shelter of the friendly trees,
and for the moment hidden from their pursuers. Their position
was still a desperate one, however, for they were in the enemy’s
territory, surrounded on all sides, and totally ignorant of the extent
or direction of the woods in which they now found themselves. The
underbrush was very heavy, however, and after running a short distance
further, they buried themselves in it, and lay quiet, getting back
their wind, and listening to the angry shouts and cries of their
pursuers as they beat about in the brushwood, in a vain attempt to
locate their elusive captives. But they were soon recalled by their
officers, and at the time the boys were greatly surprised at this,
although later they found out the reason for it.
After they had recovered from their strenuous race against death,
and the sounds of pursuit had died down, Blake and Joe set out on an
exploring expedition, making, as well as they could, in the general
direction of their own lines. They went, very cautiously, stopping
often to listen for any sign of enemy life. They were not molested, but
had not been traveling in this way for much more than an hour, when
they saw light through the trees in front of them, and shortly found
that they were near the boundary of the little patch of woods, beyond
which was only open country.
They glanced at each other, and Blake remarked: “Looks as though we had
gone about as far as is good for us in this direction, doesn’t it?”
“Sure does,” assented Joe briefly. “What do you think we had better do
now?”
“It seems to me our best plan will be to skirt around the edge of this
little forest glade,” said Blake, “and get an idea of just how big it
is. If it isn’t any more extensive than I think it is just now, we are
emphatically out of luck. And think of those dandy films, gone!”
“Out of luck is right,” assented Joe. “But, at any rate, we may be able
to make a break at night, and get back to our own lines.”
“That’s about our one best bet,” agreed Blake soberly. “We’ll find out
how we stand now, and after dark we’ll see what we can do. If only we
had our films,” he added regretfully.
“I guess we can say good-bye to them,” said Joe sadly. “We’ll be mighty
lucky to get out of this alive.”
“Well, never say die,” quoted Blake, and without more words the two
comrades set out to ascertain the extent of the woods in which they
now found themselves. As Blake had anticipated, they covered less than
a square mile, and it did not take them long to ascertain this fact.
Peering out from the edges, they could see masses of German infantry
and artillery out in the open, and suddenly a thought struck Joe.
“I’ll tell you why they did not hunt for us longer!” he exclaimed.
“Their leader figured that we’d either have to come out and surrender,
or else starve in here, so he wasn’t particularly anxious to capture us
just then. He figured he had us either way.”
“Guess that’s it,” said Blake, who had little doubt that his friend was
right. “Besides, he had the films, and I suppose he was anxious to get
them to headquarters and see what they were.”
“Well, we may fool him yet,” said Joe grimly. “It’s fairly certain that
we won’t stay here to starve to death, and also pretty likely that we
won’t surrender without having a try for liberty, anyway. How about it,
old fellow?”
“Right you are!” agreed Blake heartily; “as soon as it gets dark, we’ll
make our attempt, and see what comes of it. I only wish we had Trent
along with us,” and his face saddened as he thought of the untimely end
of the gallant aviator.
Both moving picture boys realized the necessity of conserving their
strength for the ordeal that lay before them, so they hunted out a
dense growth of underbrush, and crawled in. Thus snugly hidden, they
waited for the coming of night to start their dash for freedom. From
afar off they heard the thunder of guns, knew that a big battle was in
progress, and wished that they were back where they could become part
of it. The shadows gradually lengthened, as the afternoon wore on, and
after what seemed an interminable period, the boys knew that the time
had come for them to make their venture. By this time they were both
as hungry as young wolves, but wasted little time in regretting this
condition, as they saw little prospect of remedying it just at present.
Creeping cautiously out from their brush shelter, they advanced to the
edge of the woods, and peered out.