The Last of the Big Shows
1
The following morning had no dawning. A light rain had fallen during the
night and a heavy, obliterating fog arose from the wet earth, blanketing
hill and valley alike. So dense was it that troops in the front lines,
peeping over the top in anxious nervousness as they awaited the zero
hour, saw nothing but a wall of white that made the shell-tortured land
before them more mysterious than any dream of battle ever fancied.
What did it hold? Where were the German lines? And just what had been
the effect of this five hour tornado of screaming shells?
Machine guns, under cover of the fog, were boldly mounted on the trench
parapets. They danced and chattered on their tripods as they pounded
forth streams of lead upon the unseen enemy positions.
Zero hour at last! Along the line officers blew shrill whistles, or
some, calmer than the others, gave the signal with a confidently
shouted, "Let's go!"
Over the trench tops poured thousands of khaki clad warriors, sallying
forth in the most resolute endeavor ever attempted by American troops.
They had not advanced ten feet from the trenches before the fog
swallowed them, magically, and many were never to retrace their steps.
The big show they had so long waited for was here with an ear-splitting,
nerve-racking tempest of thundering guns. The Big Parade!
2
At any other time the air forces would have stayed safely at home, not
daring to take wing on such a day when the ceiling was scarcely higher
than a man's head. But now they must go out, at any cost, blindly flying
and vainly seeking some view of the advancing troops. But they went out
singly, for to attempt formation flight on such a morning would be to
court disaster and death.
McGee and Larkin were the first of the squadron to take off for the
front, the interval between their time of departure being sufficient to
avoid any meeting as they climbed.
The fog bank was much thicker than McGee had anticipated. At a hundred
feet he could not see a thing above, below, or on either side. He headed
his new ship, a swift Spad, in the direction of Vauquois Hill, intending
to cross the line there and hoping that the crest of the hill might loom
up out of the fog.
Vain hope. It was impossible to see a thing. Any minute he might go
plowing into some hillside or foul his landing gear in the tops of
trees. It was eerie business, this flying by instinct and facing the
dreaded possibility of coming a cropper.
Several times he cut his motor, and at such times could hear the din of
battle below--and it was not any too _far_ below, either.
Added to the fear of crashing was the thought that any second he might
cross the path of a high angle shell which had been directed at some
enemy strong point. It was not a pleasant thought, but he could not
shake it off. Certainly the air was full of them, and if he was to get
any information as to the progress of the battle he must keep low and
accept all hazards. Then too, there was the chance that he might meet up
with some other plane drilling through the fog.
"Well," he thought aloud, "I'm a poor prune if I lose my nerve now. I
expressed my opinion of Siddons--and gee! how he'd like to be facing no
more than this."
It was a depressing, angering thought. Five days, von Herzmann had said.
Then Siddons would face a firing squad. In the meantime, there was no
human agency, on the Allied side of the line, that could stop the
inexorable march of time and the certain death which this man must meet.
It was this latter fact, the feeling of helpless impotency, that fired
McGee's brain with reckless daring and sent him boring through the fog
like an angry hornet.
He soon found that this was of no avail and at last, seeking something
that might be of value, he climbed out of the earth-blanketing fog into
the clear sunlight, encountering clear blue sky at some fifteen hundred
feet.
Below him, now, was a billowing sea of fog banks, tinted by the sun
which had climbed about it. A short distance ahead he sighted an enemy
tri-plane Fokker, but before he could give chase it had dived into the
fog.
Over to the right, in what he thought must be the general direction of
Montfaucon, he saw a single seater Nieuport cruising around.
He headed for it, and soon identified it as Yancey's plane. The wild
Texan was sitting above the fog, patiently waiting (as a cat waits for a
mouse) for some observation sausage to come nosing out of the fog. Tex
knew that the sun would eventually burn up the fog. The enemy, also
knowing this, would be sending up their sausages so as to have them in
position when the fog passed. Certainly the enemy had reason to see all
that could be seen, for by this time they must be hard pressed indeed.
Directly in McGee's path, about half way between his plane and Yancey's,
a black, formless bulk loomed out of the fog. A sausage!
McGee drove hard for it, and noted that he was in a race with Yancey,
whose quick eye had sighted it.
The black bag was hardly out of the fog bank when tracers from McGee's
and Yancey's guns began streaming into it. It exploded with amazing
suddenness, the flaming cloth sinking back into enveloping billows of
fog.
Yancey banked sharply, flew alongside McGee and shook his fist as though
to say--"Go and find a rat hole of your own. This is my territory."
McGee chuckled. The Texan, instead of trying to catch some view of the
far flung battle lines, was out to increase his score.
McGee dived back down into the fog, hoping that it might be lifting.
Down below, he knew, a mighty struggle was on. Lines of communication
would be shot all to pieces in the rain of heavy shells. Great
Headquarters would be waiting anxiously for some news of the real status
and progress of the battle.
At 8:30 the fog was still holding over the field and McGee reluctantly
turned his ship homeward.
By that sixth sense which the seasoned pilot has, or develops, he found
the field. No one had been able to catch sight of the ground forces.
Cowan was storming around, under pressure from headquarters.
"It's information we want," he told the pilots as they came in, "not a
tale of what can't be done. Get back over the lines. This fog will pass.
This is not a job for an hour. Headquarters wants information. Get it!"
To McGee, he said, with something of a sting in his voice, "Considering
the chances Siddons used to take, I'd think this squadron--his own
group--would be equal to this task."
It was a lash. Furious, yet realizing the justice of the taunt, McGee
again took off, determined not to come back until he could bring some
real news of the battle's progress.
3
That was the longest, hardest day ever put in by American aviators. They
had little trouble in gaining and holding air supremacy, but they had a
most difficult time, when the fog finally lifted, in getting any
accurate information.
The advance had been so rapid, and so successful, that the Hindenburg
Line had been carried by the soldiers in the first few hours of battle.
But in pressing forward, in the fog, they had been unable to keep in
close liaison. Instead of being a well-knit whole, they were little more
than a storming, victory-drunk mob. They stopped at nothing--and nothing
could stop them. As for displaying their white muslin panels to
airplanes so that their positions might be known--poof! They were too
busy to fool around with panels and those dizzy air birds who never did
anything but fly around and look for panels. Panels be hanged! This was
a day for doughboys and the bayonet!
4
That night, after mess, the members of the squadron sat around in glum
silence. The success of the day, with reference to gains, was great
indeed, but Cowan was riding with whip and spur. He seemed not at all
pleased with the work of his own group. Added to this, word had gone
around of the dramatic happenings of the previous night, with the result
that Siddons, the most disliked man in the squadron, had suddenly become
their mourned hero. Even now they counted him as dead, for one precious
day had already slipped away and nothing in the world could save him.
The success of the day seemed as nothing by the side of this tragic
fact. Not the least distressing thought was the fact that they had
treated him as one who had never earned the right to a full fellowship
with them. And now they knew, too late, that he was a man of surpassing
courage. They even learned, from Cowan, how Siddons, working with the
French, had plotted trapping von Herzmann that day when the squadron was
attacked for the first time. The lucky arrival of the French Spads, they
now knew, was not a matter of luck at all, but a daring plan to
overwhelm the greedy German war eagle and rid the air of him. Yes,
Siddons had courage and brains. There was no longer any doubt of that.
Yancey voiced the thoughts of every man present when he said: "It
wouldn't be so tough if he could get it in the air. But this way--at a
wall--is tough."
"What about von Herzmann?" Fouche asked. "I guess it was tough for him,
too."
Yancey grinned and scratched his head. "You know," he drawled, "down in
my home state, we sometimes make a mistake and slap a brand on a calf
that's not really ours. Well, that's not so awful. But when somebody
else makes the same mistake, it's stealin'--pure and simple. War's a lot
like that. We only see one side of it, and for my part, I'm fed up with
seein' that side. Boy, I hone for Texas."
5
McGee and Larkin, as flight leaders, had been called to Major Cowan's
headquarters for the usual evening conference. The Major declared
himself as displeased with the work of the day, but both of the young
pilots, experienced in the ways of the army, realized that Cowan's
displeasure was but a reaction from pressure being put on him by the
"higher ups." The General Staff, they knew, must be gratified with the
success of the day, for all objectives had been taken and the enemy
sorely pressed. It was true, however, that communication had been far
from perfect. Liaison had broken down, and the ground gained, therefore,
was the result of the grim determination of the soldier of the line to
end the thing speedily rather than to a perfect coordination of all
arms.
"But, Major," McGee was defending the work of the squadron by pointing
out the unusual and unforeseen obstacles, "we couldn't see our wing tips
until after nine o'clock, and when we could see, those doughboys
wouldn't display their panels. They acted like they thought we would
drop bombs on them. It's hard, Major, to get men to show white panels
when they are under fire. They are afraid that the enemy will see them,
too, and blow them off the face of the earth. It is always a hard
problem."
"All battle problems are hard," Cowan replied. "The commanders of the
troops in the line are being ridden just as we are. The General Staff
feels that victory is in sight. They will accept nothing but the best of
work, and we must do our full share."
"Yes, sir, of course. But I think the troops are to be congratulated for
their success, and certainly this outfit was lucky in that we didn't
hang any planes on the top of Vauquois or in the woods. Four balloons
and three E.A. is not such a bad record for a day like this. We held
complete supremacy."
"Congratulations will be in order after a complete success, Lieutenant.
Now for to-morrow--here, see this map." Larkin winked shrewdly as Cowan
led them over to a detailed wall map. "The lines of departure are here.
Our most advanced positions, now, as near as we can tell, are well
beyond the Hindenburg Line, with the Hagen Stellung line of defense
facing our troops to-morrow. Montfaucon, the enemy's strongest point,
and for months headquarters for the Crown Prince, blocks the way for the
5th Corps. It is a commanding and strong position. No one knows just how
strong it is."
"Pardon me," a voice came from directly behind them, "but I know a great
deal about its strength."
So interested had they been, that they had not heard anyone enter. At
sound of the voice they wheeled around. There stood Siddons, mud from
head to foot but smiling expansively.
"Siddons!" Cowan exclaimed. "You?"
"Yes, sir--fortunately."
All three of the startled men rushed forward to wring his hand. There
was a hubbub of excited talk and exclamations of surprise, with no
chance for the mind to put forth logical questions. Cowan was the first
to gain some degree of composure.
"Heavens, man! How did you get here?"
"Crawled, walked and ran, and the last few miles in a side car," Siddons
replied. "Last night, at midnight, I was being held at Montfaucon under
the trumped up pretext that a staff officer was on his way down to see
me and that I was to take off with von Herzmann later in the night. But
I knew that von Herzmann had taken off with another pilot, and I knew
that the jig was up. They weren't accusing me of anything--as yet--but
they were very quiet and their manner told me all I needed to know.
Then, bing! the barrage opened up. It was some surprise. They hadn't the
foggiest notion that a blow was to be struck here. Almost the first pop
out of the box that long range railway rifle at Neuvilly dropped one of
those big G.I. cans just outside of headquarters. There was a grand
scramble for the deep dugouts. You never saw so many High Ones streaking
it for safety.
"I made tracks too, but I missed the dugout door--by design! Pretty soon
another big shell came along and flopped down near the same place, but
by that time I was a long ways from there and going strong.
"The night was as dark as the inside of a whale, but the glare of light
from the guns on our side gave me direction. The rest was comparatively
easy."
"Easy!" Cowan exclaimed. "How in the world did you get across the line?"
"Major, the confusion was so great, due to that barrage, that I could
have led an elephant up to the line with no one taking the time to
challenge me. You forget that my German is quite good. On a dark night,
well covered by a German officer's coat, which I borrowed from a chap
who won't ever need it again, it was not a difficult feat. Believe me,
my biggest worry was that I would get sent west by one of our own
shells. When I reached the front line I crawled in a funk hole and
waited for dawning and for our own troops to come along. And when they
started, man! how they came! The enemy is completely disorganized,
Major, and victory will be ours within a month or six weeks. Maybe
sooner. The Germans know it. Montfaucon will fall to-morrow. This is the
last of the big shows."
He paused, and his eyes, which McGee had always thought so cold,
twinkled with merriment.
"By the way," he said, "at Division Headquarters of the 79th, where I
made a report and was given transportation back here, the Intelligence
Officer told me a spy was nabbed last night--a chap by the name of von
Herzmann. Plane forced down, the officer told me. I wonder if it could
be possible that he ran out of gas?"
"Yes," Cowan replied, catching the spirit of the banter, "he ran out of
gas."
"Tut! tut!" Siddons mockingly reproved. "Wasn't that a careless thing
for a great ace to do?"
THE END
GLOSSARY
Ace One who has brought down five enemy air craft.
Ack Emma Air Mechanic. In military service
certain letters are given distinguishing
sounds, such as, A is Ack, D is Don, M,
to distinguish it from N, becomes Emma.
Aileron Moveable segments of planes, which,
though of small surface, control the
lateral balance.
Albatross German combat plane.
Archie Anti-aircraft artillery fire. Probably
so called because of arc of the
projectile's flight.
Backwash The wind wash caused by the propeller.
Barrel roll A wing over acrobatic manoeuvre.
Black roses Puffs of black smoke appearing suddenly
as shell explodes high in the air.
Blighty English slang for a wound. Generally
applied to a wound serious enough to
cause removal to England.
Blipped his motor Raced; rapid advancement of throttle.
Blotto To become unconscious.
Brass hat A General Officer, commonly used by
British soldiers.
Bucked Encouraged, made confident.
Caisson An ammunition wagon for mobile artillery.
Caudron Early type of French plane. Slow and
poor climber. Later used for instruction
ship because of high factors of safety.
Ceiling Sometimes designates highest point to
which a certain ship will climb; again,
the altitude of cloud banks or fog
stratas obscuring ground vision.
Circus Name applied to certain large air groups
of the German army.
C.O. Commanding Officer. Applied to any who
command a unit.
Contour chasing To fly low, following the contour of the
ground and zooming over natural and
artificial obstacles.
Crate Derisively applied to any old, or badly
worn plane, or to ship types not liked
by the pilots.
Dawn patrols Patrols going out for combat at dawn.
Dog-fighting Wherein a number of planes engage in a
free-for-all fight. Generally develops
into an every-man-for-himself fight.
'Drome Applied loosely to both hangars and
landing fields. An air base.
E.A. Enemy Aircraft.
Elephants Semi-circular huts of steel, capable of
being moved. So called, probably,
because of color, and size.
Ferry pilot A pilot used to fly ships from aviation
pool or supply base up to active
squadrons.
_Finis la guerre_ End of the war.
Flying pig A large projectile from a type of mortar
used by the Germans. Could be seen in
flight and because of appearance and
size were nicknamed "flying pigs."
Fokker German plane. Very fast, good climber.
G.H.Q. Great Headquarters.
G 2 Intelligence Department of Great
Headquarters. Great Headquarters was
divided into several groups, designated,
for convenience, by lettered numerals,
such as G 1, G 2 and G 3, etc.
G.I. cans A large shell. Because of size and usual
coat of grey paint, soldiers declared
they resembled the galvanized iron cans
used for garbage. Hence, G.I. Can.
G.O. General Order.
Hedge hopping Another name for contour chasing. Flying
dangerously low and zooming over
obstacles.
High-tail A plane, when at highest speed possible
straight ahead, carries its tail high.
To high-tail means to go at highest rate
of speed.
Immelmann A sudden turn, reversing the direction.
First used by a German aviator,
Immelmann, and later used by all air
pilots.
Intelligence That section of Great Headquarters
devoted to the handling of all spies and
the collection of information concerning
the enemy. The activities of the
department are too great to be outlined
in a brief definition.
Liaison Contact, communication with. When
several units are operating in unison,
each dependent upon the other, the
contact and coordination is called
liaison--a French word.
Limey Nickname for a British soldier.
Looie A Lieutenant.
Observation balloon A captive balloon, of sausage shape,
carrying an observer whose duty it is to
spot artillery fire, etc. The balloon is
paid out on a cable attached to a winch.
Such balloons are always given
protecting ground batteries to ward off
enemy planes.
Observation bus Generally a two seated plane, carrying
pilot and observer. Slower than pursuit
planes, but more heavily armed.
O.D. Olive drab; color of uniform.
Old Man Captain, Major or Colonel. Usually
applied to commander of the Units.
Panels White muslin, cut into various shapes,
to designate positions of various
headquarters, such as Regiment, Brigade,
etc. When spread on the ground, pilots
could see them and report positions. It
was extremely difficult to get ground
units to display them, since enemy
planes, seeing them, could give location
to their artillery.
P.C. Post of Command. Applied to any
headquarters company on up.
_Poilu_ French private soldier.
Prop Propeller.
Pursuit pilot Pilot of combat plane.
Put the wind up To frighten; to cause to lose courage or
morale.
Revving To accelerate motor rapidly.
Ring sights Type of sight designed to make it
possible to get on a rapidly moving
target. Much time was spent in training
pilots in gunnery and proper
understanding of ring sights.
R.F.C. British Royal Flying Corps.
Saw bones Army surgeon.
Sent west,
Going west To be killed, to die.
Side slipping To slip off the wing.
Solo First flight student pilot makes alone.
Spandau German machine guns used on combat
planes. Twin guns, frequently, with
single control.
Stall To climb so rapidly as to stall the
motor, putting upon it a load heavier
than it can continue to pull. If care is
not taken to ease off, plane will go
into a spin.
Tarmac The line of departure on the field.
Often applied to the entire field.
Toot sweet _Tout de suite_--French phrase, adopted
by Americans. Quickly, hurry up, at once.
Tri-plane German planes, especially Fokker, had
short fin-like projections under the
usual planes, and while quite short, and
not a true plane, gave the ship the name
of tri-plane. Were quite fast, good
climbers, and manoeuvred easily.
Upstairs Generally applied to high altitude
flights. Sometimes applied to any
flight, regardless of altitude.
Very light pistol A type of pistol used to fire a shell
somewhat larger than a 12 gauge shotgun
shell, and which contained luminous star
signals, such as red stars, green stars,
white stars, etc. The meaning of the
signal depended upon the color and
number of these floating stars.
Wash-out To destroy, or badly damage a plane.
Variously applied. Sometimes applied to
planes obsoleted by the air service.
White roses Allied anti-aircraft artillery used
high-explosive, which showed white on
bursting. Germans used black powder,
which showed black.
Wind sock A conical strip of cloth on a staff atop
the hangars to give pilots wind
direction.
Wipers Nickname soldiers gave to Belgian town
of Ypres.
Yaw off To slip off desired direction due to
lack of speed or wind resistance.
Zoom To pull the nose up sharply and climb at
an angle too great to be long sustained.