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[Illustration: THE DUEL IN MIDAIR.]
AIR SERVICE BOYS OVER THE ENEMY'S LINES
OR
THE GERMAN SPY'S SECRET
BY
CHARLES AMORY BEACH
Author of "Air Service Boys Flying for France"
ILLUSTRATED BY
ROBERT GASTON HERBERT
THE WORLD SYNDICATE PUBLISHING CO.
CLEVELAND, O. NEW YORK, N.Y.
Copyright, 1919, BY
GEORGE SULLY & COMPANY
Printed in the United States of America
by
THE COMMERCIAL BOOKBINDING CO.
CLEVELAND, O.
AIR SERVICE BOYS OVER THE ENEMY LINES
CONTENTS
Chapter Page
I. Back of the Trenches 1
II. The Winged Messenger 10
III. A Spy Baffled 19
IV. Praise From the General 27
V. The Strange Warning 35
VI. Looking Backward 45
VII. The Great Day Arrives 53
VIII. Over the Enemy's Lines 61
IX. Winning His Spurs 70
X. After the Battle 78
XI. A Show on the Front 85
XII. Clowns on the Wing 94
XIII. More Work in Prospect 103
XIV. Off on a Daring Mission 113
XV. The Moonlight Flight 120
XVI. Landing Close To Metz 129
XVII. More Trouble for the Chums 137
XVIII. The Lone House by the Roadside 144
XIX. A Nest of Spies 153
XX. Jack Climbs a Wall 162
XXI. In the Old Lorraine Chateau 171
XXII. Facing More Difficulties 181
XXIII. Left Behind in the Enemy's Country 191
XXIV. Troublous Times for Jack 200
XXV. Back to Safety--Conclusion 208
AIR SERVICE BOYS OVER THE ENEMY'S LINES
CHAPTER I
BACK OF THE TRENCHES
"Tom, what do you suppose that strange man who looked like a French
peasant, yet wasn't one, could have been up to late yesterday
afternoon?"
"You mean the fellow discovered near the hangars at the aviation camp,
Jack?"
"Yes. He seemed to go out of sight like a wreath of smoke does. Why, if
the ground had opened and swallowed him up, once the hue and cry was
raised, he couldn't have vanished quicker. I wonder if what they say
about him can be true?"
"That he was a German spy? Anything is possible in war times."
"I guess you're right there. German secret sympathizers, and spies in
the bargain, seemed to bob up all over the United States before we
crossed the ocean to do our fighting for France as aviators."
"They certainly were busy bees, Jack, blowing up munition-works, trying
to destroy big railroad bridges so as to cripple traffic with the Allies
over here; burning grain elevators in which France and Great Britain had
big supplies of wheat stored; and even putting bombs aboard ocean liners
that were timed to explode days later, when the boat would be a thousand
miles from land."
"Over in France here they make short work of spies, I've heard, Tom!"
"Yes, it's a drumhead court martial and trial. Then, if the man or woman
is found guilty, the spy goes out with a firing squad to the most
convenient stone wall. They never return, Jack."
"Whee! that sounds like war times, doesn't it? And to think the two of
us are right on the firing line, in the midst of all the scrapping. But,
Tom, tell me, why should a tricky German spy want to hang out around the
aviation field? He could hardly expect to pick up any news there that
would be worth taking across the lines to the headquarters of the Crown
Prince before Verdun."
"Don't be too sure of that, Jack. Perhaps he might learn of some
contemplated bombing expedition, like that one we went on not so long
ago." And Tom Raymond smiled slightly.
"They are a mighty clever bunch, those spies," admitted Jack Parmly.
"Why, Jack, half of the successes of the Kaiser's armies on all fronts,
Russia, France and Rumania, can be laid at the door of his secret
agents. They seem to be everywhere, trying to foment internal troubles,
strikes, and discontent, so that when the Germans strike hard they meet
a divided enemy in front."
"Well, I certainly wish we had caught that fellow."
"You were in the crowd, you told me, that scoured the whole neighborhood
in search of him."
"That's right, I was. But say, he proved too foxy for us all. Anyway, we
failed to find the rascal. Then night came on, when we had to give our
man-hunt over. And to think that I even glimpsed the fellow's face in
the bargain before the alarm went out!"
"Then you'd know him again perhaps, Jack, if ever you met him?"
"I think so. Though I suppose these spies have ways of changing their
looks at times. But, to change the subject, Tom, it strikes me neither
of us is groaning under the weight of game so far on our little side
hunt." And Jack Parmly grinned.
"Oh, I didn't really expect to run across anything, though that French
peasant assured us there were still some rabbits in the burrows over
here, three miles back of our sleeping quarters. That's why, with a day
off-duty, I took a notion to borrow an old Belgian-made double-barrel
shotgun he owned, and walk out here."
"More to stretch our legs and get the kinks out, than anything else, eh,
Tom?"
"That's it, Jack. Don't you remember that while we were training at the
aviation school at Pau we used often to walk from the town, eight miles
distant, until we sighted that famous little old red barn at Pau, where
the Wright Brothers conducted some of their experiments in flying
heavier-than-air machines. That was some little hike."
"Then too, Tom, I guess we wanted to get together by ourselves for a
change, so we could talk about our folks at home in little old
Bridgeton, U. S. A.," went on Jack Parmly with a sigh. "All the fellows
of the Lafayette Escadrille are mighty kind and sociable, but there are
times when a fellow gets homesick. Just remember that we have been over
here many months now. It seems years to me, Tom."
"Say, I hope you are not homesick enough to want to go back, old
fellow?"
"Not me, Tom. I made up my mind to stick it out until we whip the
Kaiser. But already I can see it'll never be an accomplished fact until
Uncle Sam throws his sword into the scales. And any day now something
may drop."
"Yes, matters are at an acute stage in Washington, that's sure. All
France, bled nearly white in two-and-a-half years of war, is praying
that the day may come soon."
After that the two athletic looking young Americans, dressed in the
uniform of the French aviation corps, fell silent for a brief time.
They, however, continued to trudge over the devastated fields, looking
this way and that for any sign of a stray rabbit that had escaped the
general slaughter.
It was just previous to the world-stirring session of Congress, when the
President made his thrilling speech that sounded almost from end to end
of the world, and put America in line for the cause of democracy.
Anxious days those were across the ocean, anxious not only in France,
Italy and Great Britain, in Serbia, Rumania, Greece and Russia, but in
the Central Empires, also.
For well did those in Teutonic authority know, in spite of their vain
boasting, that once great America decided, the thing was bound to be
done, sooner or later. Never in the course of her history has our
republic been on a losing side. Her wars have invariably brought
eventual victory to her arms, because she has never once fought for an
unjust cause.
These two vigorous young fellows were fair samples of those enterprising
Americans who found it impossible to sit idly by. They could not await
the slow course of events that was bound to carry our country into the
world war on the side of the Allies, in spite of all the powerful
counter currents among the pro-German citizens at home.
Dozens of the brightest of flying men from the States had gone over and
offered their services to France, the country they loved. In time there
came to be so many, that from the ordinary French Flying Corps there was
formed a unit entirely made up of Americans.
This, in honor of the one great Frenchman whom Americans most honor at
home, was called the Lafayette Escadrille. Some of its members had
become famous at their profession. Names like those of Lufbery, Thaw,
McConnell, Chapman, Prince, Rockwell, Hill, Rumsey, Johnson, Balsley and
others became household words among readers of the great dailies in the
States.
Tom Raymond was the son of a man who had gained fame as an inventor.
When the war broke out he started work on numerous inventions, some of
which were calculated to become terrible agents for the destruction of
human life. Then Mr. Raymond's mood changed, and he set to work to
conceive a wonderful stabilizer for airplane use that would save myriads
of lives, and if adopted by Uncle Sam was likely to help win the war for
the Allies.
Just when this invention was finished a drawing of one of the parts was
stolen by a German spy. Later on, after Tom and his chum, Jack Parmly
had decided to become war aviators, having already had considerable
aviation experience, they went to the flying school conducted by the
Government in Virginia.
From there in course of time they crossed the Atlantic and entered the
famous French school at Pau. Then, having mastered the science of flying
sufficiently to be sent to the front, they had joined the Lafayette
Escadrille, as related in a previous volume entitled "Air Service Boys
Flying for France; or The Young Heroes of the Lafayette Escadrille."
Tom in particular seemed to have a great career ahead of him, unless
some unfortunate accident, or possibly a Teuton pilot, cut it short, as
had happened in the cases of Rockwell, Prince, McConnell and Chapman.
Every one knew he possessed genius of a high order, and that it would
not be long before Tom Raymond might anticipate gaining the proud title
of "_ace_," which would indicate that he had defeated five enemies
at different times, and put them entirely out of the running.
Tom was already a corporal in the French service, and expected before a
great while to be given the privilege of wearing the chevrons of a
sergeant. Jack had not progressed so rapidly but was doing well.
And now to return to the young aviators during their walk.
"I reckon we've gone far enough, Jack," Tom remarked presently. "Our
friend Jean may have been telling the truth when he said there were
still a few bunnies left alive in this war-racked section of country,
but I can see they've got the good sense to stick to their burrows
during the daytime. We won't be burdened with our bag of game on the
return trip."
"Yes, that's always the trouble, when you go out after rabbits and
haven't any hound along to get them up and bring them within gunshot,"
grumbled Jack.
"But we've had a good walk," returned his companion; "and for a time we
managed to get away from that terrible explosion of shells, and big-gun
firing. We ought to be thankful for our little time off, Jack."
"Oh! I'm not really complaining," remarked the other young aviator, with
a whimsical expression on his good-natured face. "But don't you know I
hate to go back without having fired even one shot." He stopped short
and pointed upward. "Hold on, Tom; there's some kind of bird going to
pass over right now! Crow or anything, please bring it down! I'll
promise to eat it, no matter what it is."
Laughingly Tom threw the gun up to his shoulder, and the next instant
the report sounded. It seemed almost contemptible, after listening to
the roar of those monster shells exploding for so long.
The bird fell fluttering in a heap. Tom evidently was a fair marksman,
for it had been moving swiftly over their heads at the time he fired.
Jack ran forward and picked the game up. As he did so he gave utterance
to exclamations that naturally excited the curiosity of his chum. So
Tom, after reloading his gun with a fresh shell, waited for Jack to
rejoin him, which the other did, his face full of mystery.