THE MOONLIGHT FLIGHT
The time for talking had passed. With the motor working noisily, and the
twin propellers churning the air, they could hardly have heard the
discharge of one of the 'Big Berthas', as the Allies were wont to call
the monster Krupp guns, and so called them because a woman whose maiden
name had been Bertha Krupp, owned a big interest in the works where they
were manufactured.
All was dark around and below them. Above the stars shone, and gave a
small amount of cold, cheery light. Tom had made a study of the heavens,
and was able to steer by means of the stars. The aviator is often as
much dependent on compass and heavenly bodies to shape his course as the
sailor hundreds of miles away from land.
Tom was in no especial hurry. He had carefully thought out his plans,
and meant to pass over Verdun at just a certain time. Then would come
the two lines of hostile trenches, and the ordeal of searchlights and
shrapnel. Once that was done with, they had really little further to
fear.
The minutes slipped away. Under ordinary conditions they were accustomed
to making that thirty miles in just about half that number of minutes,
thanks to the ability of the speedy Nieuports to cover distance. It
would be twice that now before they would find themselves at the front.
Already they could see various signs to tell them they were drawing
near. Rockets used as signals of various kinds ascended at intervals,
and burst. Others of the star variety, and which discharged glowing
white electric balls that lighted the earth below, could also be seen.
One side or the other apparently had some reason for desiring to
scrutinize a special sector of terrain in No-Man's-Land, the disputed
region lying between the hostile trenches.
Jack used his eyes to advantage. These things had not yet grown stale
with him, for he still found himself filled with awe and wonder when
gazing down from a lofty height at the world shrouded in darkness below.
There within a comparatively short distance, that might not be over
twenty miles, a round million of soldiers were gathered, armed with
numberless engines of destruction of the most ponderous nature
imaginable. It was enough to give any one a genuine thrill, and Jack
felt such a sensation creeping over him.
The crucial time had now come. They were passing over the line of the
French trenches. Jack knew this from various signs, and also that in
another minute they might expect to be spotted by some of the enemy
searchlights. These would be unmasked, and trained on the heavens in the
effort to locate the cause of that well known clattering noise above.
This speedily came about. First one long shaft of dazzling light rushed
back and forth; then others joined in the hunt, until presently they
focussed on the progressing two-seater pushing north.
Then began the bombardment. Numerous anti-aircraft guns were poking
their noses upward in anticipation of just such a call. Their crews
commenced to shower the shrapnel around and below the bird of passage,
whose mission, whatever it might prove to be, could mean only evil to
the Teuton cause.
All this racket was lost upon the two so far above the earth. They heard
nothing of the bleat of the firing guns. Even the bursting of shrapnel
went unheeded, save at a time when a shell exploded close by, and was
faintly heard.
Tom was wisely taking but little chance. He maintained an altitude that
prevented most of the shrapnel from coming anywhere near the plane.
They crossed the enemy front, and sped on. The bombardment diminished in
fury as they left the first and second line trenches behind them. It was
continued to some extent from an elevation further back, but as Tom knew
of this formation, and had crept up still higher, no accident happened
to them.
At last the air service boys were fully launched on their night voyage
through the upper currents. Tom waited until he considered that it was
really safe to change their course. He did not want to betray his
movements in case some daring Boche pilot started up in a swift Fokker
machine to pursue them.
Once he shut off the engines and volplaned down a thousand feet or more.
This was done because it was intensely cold up where they were; and the
reasons that had kept them at such a high altitude existed no longer.
Then again Tom wished to listen to discover if there was another
aircraft near them; and this could be done only when his motor was
silent.
"No pursuit, Jack!" he managed to call to his chum before they once more
straightened out, and again allowed the motor to send forth its loud
hum.
Jack had no chance to make any sort of reply. It did not matter, for he,
too, had eagerly listened, and had failed to catch any telltale sound.
Immediately Tom shaped a new course. No longer were they heading toward
the north by east, but directly east. There some forty miles, more or
less, away, lay the city of Metz, the object of their mission.
After moving along in this fashion for a short time Tom drove his
machine more slowly. He was watching for the rising of the old moon
ahead, where the horizon was already lighted with her near approach.
How strange she looked peering above the edge of the world as though
curious to see all that was going on in this troubled hemisphere. Jack
thought he had never witnessed a more peculiar spectacle. But at least
this fragment of a moon would be likely to afford them the necessary
illumination required when they attempted to land in a field that
neither of them had ever seen before, and only knew through information
imparted by means of their chart, and its accompanying notes.
Some other pilot had doubtless been over this same route on previous
occasions; yes, and even landed in that identical field. He had made the
chart; and the accompanying memoranda consisted of his personal
experiences.
Already the moon had dispelled some of the cheerless gloom round about
them. It was still cold up in that upper strata of rarefied air; but
their fur-lined garments kept them from suffering. Besides this, they
were young and vigorous, and their blood was warm, and they were excited
with their mission and able to ignore any physical discomfort that might
come to them.
Jack continued to stare ahead as time passed. He was looking for some
sign of the city towards which they were flying. Tom, on his part, often
took note of his compass, then flashed a glance up at the stars, and
finally sought to discover some landmark far down below that was marked
upon the chart.
He had the utmost confidence in his own judgment, and believed he would
bring up at the identical place which was their goal.
Tom now volplaned again, wishing to draw nearer to the earth. It was
while thus dropping, with engine muffled, that his ears caught a sound
calculated to give him an uneasy feeling.
This was undoubtedly the whirr of a propeller beating the air in furious
fashion. It also came from behind. Jack, too, had caught the sound, and
was thrilled with sudden apprehension of impending trouble.
They were undoubtedly being pursued, and by a much faster plane than
their own. This would mean that presently they would be overtaken and
fired upon. It was not in the nature of Tom Raymond to allow such a
thing to occur and be kept from doing his share of the fighting.
When Tom swung around to face the rear, and actually started to run
toward the oncoming foe, Jack knew what was expected of him. He must man
the gun, and prove how well he had learned his lesson when at school at
Pau and at Casso.
No longer could they expect to be guided by sounds. Their own motor
thundered so loudly that every other sound was deadened. They must
depend on eyesight alone to tell them when they were nearing the
oncoming Fokker craft. Perhaps the first indication they would have of
its presence would be the flash of its quick-firing gun, spattering
bullets around them like hail.
So Jack strained his vision to the limit. He was eager to discover the
enemy before they themselves were seen. Much might depend on who fired
first, in a duel of this kind.
Suddenly the gun began to bark after its own peculiar way. Jack believed
he had glimpsed something moving, and was sending forth a storm of lead
in the hope of a lucky hit that would crumple the other machine up and
put an end to that peril.
Tom held the course. He knew that every second was carrying the rival
airplanes nearer together--knew that possibly they were so headed that
if they continued to rush forward they might smash in a frightful
collision that would send both down thousands of feet to the earth.
It was a time for careful calculations and prompt action. Tom gripped
the controls and was ready either to swerve or to dip as occasion
demanded. Meanwhile, Jack was doing his best to riddle the advancing
Boche machine and its pilot.
There was no longer any difficulty in seeing just where the Fokker was,
for a constant flashing as her gun rattled betrayed its position
exactly. The flying lead was now whistling all about the two air service
boys but they did not know how close they sailed to death.
Then Tom swung smartly to the right. He dared not keep on longer in his
course lest he collide with the German craft. Just about the same
instant he realized that the Fokker was diving. There was something
queer about that manoeuvre. Tom had never known a French or an American
nor yet a British airman to adopt such a clumsy way of plunging so as to
avoid punishment.
Circling around he started back on a little lower level, looking for the
enemy. In making his latest volplane Tom had listened intently, hoping
to ascertain whether the motor of the enemy craft still throbbed
somewhere close by; but he heard not a sound to tell the story.
Just then, suspicious of the truth, he glanced down, and was just in
time to see a little flash of flame arise from the distant surface of
the earth. Then the awful truth broke upon both boys. They realized that
the German pilot had lost control of his machine, which had turned over
and over in its drop, finally crashing to the ground, and being
instantly enveloped in flames!