THE GREAT DAY ARRIVES
By the time the pilots of the American escadrille began to assemble on
the field where the airplane hangars were clustered, (these being more
or less camouflaged by means of paint cleverly applied to represent the
earth), the news concerning the air service boys' narrow escape had
become generally known.
Great was the indignation expressed by all. Up to this time there had
appeared to be considerable honor exhibited among-the flying men on both
sides. In fact many curious little courtesies had been exchanged that
seemed to put the aviation service on a plane of its own.
One thing was certain. After that there would be no taking things for
granted. Each pilot meant to satisfy himself as best he could that his
plane was in perfect order before risking his life in the upper
currents.
Jack was besieged for a full account of the matter. He, being an
obliging person, gladly told everything he knew. Naturally the mystery
attached to the discovery of the message of warning tied to the poor
little partly collapsed child's balloon aroused considerable curiosity
and speculation among the aviators.
The way some of them pumped Jack made him laugh; but he assured them he
was just about as "deep in the mud as they were in the mire."
"I've told you all about the woman named Mrs. Neumann," he repeated for
the tenth time. "And she's the only one I can think of who would be apt
to care a cent whether Jack Parmly happened to be alive or dead. If
anybody can give a better guess I'd like to hear it."
They did considerable "guessing," but after all it became the consensus
of opinion that the grateful Mrs. Neumann was responsible. And so
finally they let it go at that; for the day had begun, and there was an
abundance of work to be accomplished before the sun set again.
"But this is certain," said one of the leading flyers of the escadrille,
seriously; "if the Boches mean to stop playing fair it's bound to
demoralize the service. Up to now there's been an unwritten set of rules
to the game, which both sides have lived up to. I shall hate to see them
discarded, and brutal methods put in their place."
Others were of the opinion that there might have been something personal
connected with the attempt to kill Jack, through that shabby trick. The
German spy might have had a private grievance against the youth, they
said, which he meant to pay off in his own dastardly way.
No matter which turned out to be the truth, it was not pleasant for Jack
to believe he had become an object of hatred to some mysterious prowler,
and that possibly other secret attempts on his life might be made from
time to time.
That day passed, and another followed. There did not seem to be much
stirring on either side of the line; but such a lull frequently proved
the precursor of some gigantic battle, for which the armies were
preparing.
Of course, when the wind and weather permitted, there was always plenty
of excitement among the airplane escadrilles. All manner of little
expeditions were organized and carried out.
Now it was an attempt to get above that string of "sausage" balloons
used for observation purposes only, so that a few well-dropped bombs
might play havoc among them.
As these were always defended by a force of fighting planes hovering
above, all primed to give battle on the slightest provocation, the
result of these forays was that a number of hotly-contested fights were
"pulled off" high in air.
One pilot brought down another enemy, and increased his score a peg,
always a matter of pride with a pilot of a fighting plane. And another
of the escadrille had the honor of getting above those observation
balloons before a couple of them could be hastily pulled down.
Two of his companions engaged the defending Teuton pilots, and fended
them off purposely, in order to permit the raid. The selected man
swooped down like a hawk, passed the Gotha guard, and managed to shoot
his bomb downward with unerring aim. One of the balloons was seen to
burst into flames, and the second must have met with a like fate, since
it was perilously near at the time, though the dense smoke obscured
everything.
All these things and more did Tom and Jack witness through their glasses
as those two days passed. Tom especially was waiting to have his wish
realized with as much calmness as he could summon.
"I think it will come to-night, Jack," he told his chum, on the second
afternoon, as they prepared to return to their lodgings.
"Then you believe there's some big move on tap, and that to-morrow a
battle will be commenced? And all for the possession of some old ruined
fort, perhaps, that is now only a mass of crumpled masonry and debris!"
"You mustn't forget, Jack, it is the famous name that counts with these
romantic Frenchmen. Douaumont and Vaux mean everything to them, even if
there is nothing but a great mound of stone, mortar and earth to tell
where each fort once stood."
"Yes, I suppose you're right, Tom; and then again I was forgetting that
the retaking of a prominent position which the Germans had captured
means a heartening of the whole army. I've heard them talking of
Mort-Homme, and Hill Three Hundred and Four, as if those were the most
precious bits of territory in all France."
"These are sometimes strategic points, you know, keys to a further
advance. But there comes the captain now, and he's got his eye on us, as
sure as you live!" ejaculated Tom, giving a little start, and turning a
shade paler than usual, owing to the excess of his emotions, and the
anticipation of hearing pleasant news.
The leader of the Lafayette Escadrille smiled as he drew near. He waited
until he could speak without being overheard, for it was not always wise
to shout aloud when dealing with matters in which the High Command had a
deep interest, such as a pending advance movement.
"It is to-morrow, Raymond," he said quietly, yet with a twinkle in his
eye.
He had taken a great liking to these daring lads who had already made
such strides toward the goal of becoming "aces" in time, granting that
they lived through the risky period of their apprenticeship.
"Both?" gasped Jack eagerly.
The head pilot shook his head in the negative.
"Sorry to disappoint you, Parmly, but you'll have to wait a bit longer,"
he announced, whereat the other's face fell again, though he gulped, and
tried to appear content. "There are several things you must correct
before you can expect to take such chances. We are short a fighting
pilot for to-morrow, and I thought it was time we gave Raymond his
initiation."
Then as he walked alongside the chums he entered into a minute
description of the duties that would devolve upon Tom in his first time
up to serve as a guardian to the heavier planes acting as "fire-control"
and scouts, or "eyes of the army."
"Of course you are only to butt in if we are outnumbered," the leader
explained in conclusion. "The experienced and able fliers must take care
of such of the enemy as venture to attack our big machines. Some of
these Boches will be their best men, with records of a dozen or two
machines to their credit. It would be little short of suicide to send a
novice up against them, you understand."
Tom was ambitious, and would of course be delighted to prove his metal
when opposed by a famous ous "ace;" whose name and reputation had long
made him a terror to the French and British airmen. Nevertheless he
recognized the wisdom of what the captain was telling him, and promised
to restrain his eagerness until given the prearranged signal that his
chance had come.
It made Tom feel proud to know he had won the good opinion of such a
brave man as the captain, as well as the friendship of those other
gallant souls composing the American squadron of aviators fighting for
France.
"Still," he said to Jack later on, when they were together in their room
getting into their ordinary street clothes, "it made me feel a bit cheap
when he spoke of my being pitted against just an _ordinary_ pilot,
some fresh hand as anxious as we are to achieve a reputation. At the
same time that's what we must seem to these veterans of scores of air
combats, all of whom have met with the most thrilling adventures again
and again."
Jack managed to hide his bitter disappointment. He realized that he
would never be in the same class as his more brilliant chum. Tom fitted
for becoming an expert in the line had chosen for his calling. On the
other hand Jack began to believe that he was a little too slow-witted
ever to make a shining success as a fighting aviator, where skill must
be backed by astonishing quickness of mind and body, as well as
_something else_ within the heart that is an inherited birthright.
"Anyhow," he consoled himself by saying, not aloud, but softly, "I can
be the pilot of a bombing machine, and perhaps in time they'll give me
charge of a plane used as fire-control during the battle. That is as far
up the pole as I ought to aspire to climb. These chaps in the Lafayette
are one and all picked men, the very cream of the entire service."