AFTER THE BATTLE
During all this turmoil the fire-control plane pilot had kept his
machine at work. While the fighting guard engaged the German, the
observer aboard the larger craft continued to send his signals to the
batteries far in the rear of the French advanced lines; and through the
successful working of the undertaking a number of heavy Teuton guns had
already been silenced.
Tom now found time to look down, using his glasses for the purpose,
since the air in their immediate vicinity was clear of enemy planes. He
could see something of the battle, though so much smoke lay above the
battleground that it was only when this lifted temporarily that an
occasional fugitive glimpse could be obtained of the earth.
The French were undoubtedly pushing the Germans well out of their
advance trenches. They had already gone forward far enough to redeem a
fairly wide stretch of territory that had been taken from them at the
time the forces of the Crown Prince made their forward drive, at the
cost of more than a hundred thousand men.
Tom now felt another twinge in his shoulder. On looking into the matter
he discovered, as he suspected, that he had been wounded. Blood was
showing on his thick fur-lined coat.
Just then a plane approached him. Tom recognized the mark on the side,
and knew the muffled figure seated in the machine was the commander of
the escadrille. He was coming to ascertain whether the novice had drawn
out of his first combat entirely unscathed.
He had, in truth, cast many an anxious, fleeting look toward the pair
while Tom was "doing his bit" for France; for after discovering that the
German was an experienced pilot, and a man to be feared, the captain
would gladly have flown to the relief of Tom only that he had his hands
full with the Teuton he had attacked.
He made motions as he approached at reduced speed. Tom could not hear a
sound save the loud beat of his own motor, but he knew what the other
was asking.
So he touched his left shoulder with his finger, and held that up to
show that it was reddened. Then the Captain made a quick motion that was
meant for a command. Tom was to go down. There was no necessity for his
remaining aloft longer, now that another had arrived to relieve him from
the post of duty. He ought to call it a day's work, and have his
shoulder attended to.
Regretfully Tom obeyed. His fighting spirit was aroused, and he would
gladly have accepted a second challenge to combat, had the opportunity
come. He nodded his head to show he understood, and then started back
toward the French lines.
All this time shrapnel had been bursting here, there and everywhere
underneath them; but no one paid much attention to the shower. Indeed,
shrapnel does not account for as many hostile planes as might be
imagined; since each looks like a fly when ten thousand feet high, and
the surrounding space is so vast.
So Tom swung past the advance French lines, just as they were making
another forward movement. He could glimpse long lines of poilus
streaming over the shell-hole pitted terrain like ants in army array.
Tom would have been pleased to hover above them for a while, and watch
how those furious fighters rushed the Boches out of their second line
trenches, as though nothing could stay their push.
Beyond the French barrage fire was falling like a curtain. Tom could
tell this from the constant line of explosions that took place. The
Germans in the second trenches would have no chance of going back
through that deadly hailstorm of shells; they must either die at their
posts, or surrender, he saw.
So fifteen minutes later Tom dropped to the field, ran his plane up
close to the hangar, and then as a figure dashed wildly toward him,
started to climb wearily from his seat.
Of course it was Jack. He was wild with delight, and was swinging his
cap above his head with all the animation of a schoolboy.
"Oh! to think that I saw it all, Tom!" was what he cried, as he seized
the hand of his chum, and squeezed it fiercely, almost crying in his
excitement.
"You did!" exclaimed the other. "How did that happen, when I had the
glasses aloft with me?"
"Oh, I borrowed a pair from an obliging French officer. When he
understood that you were my chum, and that it was your first trial at
combat in the air, he gladly accommodated me. They are willing to do
almost anything for us Americans. My heart was up in my throat every
time you rushed at that terrible Boche pilot!"
"But how could you pick me out at that distance?" demanded Tom
incredulously, for it seemed almost unbelievable.
"I guessed that our captain would have you hold back when he and the
other two started to meet the rising Germans," said Jack. "You see, I
was wise enough to believe he would want you to butt in only in case a
fourth Boche came along. And when that happened I knew your chance had
come."
"It was pretty exciting while it lasted," remarked Tom grimly.
They were soon on the road to the villa, going in one of the cars used
to take the pilots when going to and returning from work. There was a
surgeon at hand, and an examination of Tom's hurt was made. It proved to
be a small matter, though it had bled quite freely.
"You must take a few days' rest, young M'sieu," the army surgeon told
the young aviator after he had dressed the wound. "It was a narrow
escape, I assure you. Three inches further down, and I would not like to
have answered for your life. But evidently France had further need of
your excellent services. I salute you, M'sieu Raymond, you have this day
done your duty well, and won your spurs."
The air service boys could not remain quietly at the villa while all
that furor was going on. They wished to be at the hangars, to greet
those who returned, and give the pilots who were sallying forth a last
word of encouragement.
It was a long day, and full of thrilling happenings. Other battles in
the air occurred along the extended front, and not all of them wound up
in victories for the Allied forces. Some distinguished Teuton "aces"
were flying on that occasion who would not be denied their toll. But the
Lafayette Escadrille lost none of its members, Tom and Jack were glad to
learn.
Night finally set its pall over the field where all day long the hostile
armies had fought and bled. The French were grimly holding their seized
terrain, and hurling the Germans back again and again. The serried ranks
had pushed forward up to within an hour of sunset; then, apparently
realizing that it was a hopeless task, the Teuton High Command had given
the order to withdraw.
On the following day the battle was not resumed. The French had their
hands full in strengthening and fortifying their new positions, while
the Germans must have been so severely punished and "shot to pieces"
that they needed time to effect the reorganization of their various
battalions and regiments.
So several days passed, and nothing out of the ordinary happened, at
least in connection with the two chums. Tom's slight wound was healing
fast, and he was told by the army surgeon that it would be quite safe
for him to go up again at any time now, a fact that pleased the young
aviator immensely.
"I'm going to make a record for myself," he told his chum.
"You're the fellow to do it," answered Jack. "Wish I was in your shoes."