BOUND FOR VERDUN
For three days more the boys wandered about Paris,--three days of the
most fearful suspense; and then began the battle of the Marne. Every
airplane in and about Paris was at the front, on the line somewhere, and
the boys were deprived of the opportunity to see the new friend they had
made at the Bois de Boulogne station.
They were so sure of being able to go to Verdun that Albert wrote to his
father of their plans, in the hope that he would consider it wise to
leave Switzerland for that point, where they might meet.
The Germans had been defeated; Paris was safe, the French line having
held firmly all the way to Verdun. The determination to go there was
firmly fixed in their minds, but they could see no way to accomplish the
purpose. A visit to Tom at the hospital only resulted in their being
told that the lieutenant was in the field, no one knew where.
"I have an idea," said Ralph, as they emerged from their room one
morning.
"What is it?" asked Alfred.
"We might get attached to the Red Cross some way, and that would be
sure to take us to the front," replied Ralph.
"That would be just as hard as to get in with the flying people,"
answered Alfred.
"That may be so, too, but I can't see any other way."
They again called at the Continental Hotel in the hope that there might
be some further news. To their surprise they found a letter from
Alfred's father with a check for their personal expenses. While reading
the letter they overheard a conversation which gave them the solution,
as they thought, of their difficulties.
"No," said a voice, "they will not ticket us to any point near the
firing line, but we might go to St. Dizier, and from there work our way
north."
"Good idea; let's book at once," said the second voice.
"Come on," said Alfred. "That's the right tip. Let's find out where St.
Dizier is."
The clerk informed them: "It is about a hundred and sixty miles east of
Paris."
"Then it can't be far from Verdun," remarked Alfred.
"Sixty miles southwest, I should judge," was the answer.
"Do you think we would have any trouble in reaching that point?" asked
Ralph.
"I think the trains are still running, but they may not adhere to the
regular schedule. The line runs south of the war zone, you know," said
the clerk.
That settled it. They hurried to the Banque Francaise, and having
secured currency for the check, started for the booking office as fast
as they could walk. It was impossible at this time to get a conveyance
as only the underground railways and a few tram cars were in service,
the government having requisitioned all the horses, and automobiles a
week previous to this time.
They booked second class, the official stating that the tickets were
sold at the risk of the holders, and that they would have to take their
chances on the trains, so they were at the eastern railway station
before one o'clock, in the hope that the regular through train at two
that day would be able to accommodate them. In this they were
disappointed, so they waited about until five o'clock, and had the good
fortune to have the tickets accepted by the gateman.
They passed through an immense crowd of newly arrived soldiers, and were
jostled about by hosts of men, women and children who were departing for
the southeast, most of them bound for Chaumont. Within an hour they
finally found a train bound for their destination, but it was another
hour before the train began to move.
The trip was a weary one all through the night, as they seemed to stop
at every station, although it was the fast express. The intense
excitement of the people all along the line; the passing of trains; the
crying out of the latest news; and the bustle of the new arrivals in the
already crowded compartments, made sleep impossible. The sun had been
up two hours before the station of St. Dizier was announced.
The boys were out and scampering along the platform ahead of most of the
crowd. As they passed out the end of the station they noticed a sign on
a train: "For Bar-le-Duc, 10 o'clock."
"Let's see where that place is," said Alfred.
The information was obtained. It was twenty kilometers northeast.
"That's the place we must go; it's twenty miles toward Verdun, and now
is our time," said Ralph.
"Let's have something to eat first," said Alfred.
After the meal they booked for Bar-le-Duc, and this train started
promptly. Only two coaches were reserved for civilians, the others being
filled with soldiers. The town, which was reached shortly before noon,
had the appearance of an armed camp. Here they received the startling
news that the Germans were at St. Mihiel, thirty-five miles northeast of
that place.
There was no sign of panic there, however. Verdun, Toul and Nancy were
still intact, and there was no fear that either place would yield.
Before they had been in the city an hour they saw a dozen or more
airplanes overhead, and it was not long thereafter until they learned
that one of the most famous stations belonging to the flyers was located
north of the place. A conveyance was readily obtained, as a line of
busses paralleled the railway track, and in another hour they were on
the plateau where the great hangars were located.
As they were crossing the field, and approaching the first tier of
hangars the boys noticed the two men whose conversation had been
overheard in the Continental hotel. "They are the very men," said
Alfred; "I wonder what they are here for?"
The men stopped and looked at the boys for an instant. Ralph approached
them and said, with a smile: "You beat us here after all."
The men appeared to be puzzled at being thus addressed. Alfred saw that
they did not understand Ralph's greeting, and said: "We are under
obligations to you for telling us how to get here, and I want to thank
you."
"I don't exactly understand," said one of the men.
"We heard you talking about making this trip, and as we wanted to get to
the front without knowing just how to do it, your conversation helped us
out," said Ralph.
"I'll bet you're American boys," said one of them, laughing.
"Indeed, we are," said Alfred.
"Belong to the service?" asked the other.
"Oh, yes," answered Ralph,--"that is, we did belong to it."
"Which branch?" asked the man.
"Messenger service in Belgium, aviation and trench service with the
English, and Red Cross in the French army," answered Alfred.
This response was answered by hearty laughter on the part of both men,
and one of them responded: "That is a pretty comprehensive service, I
should say."
"Where are you from?" asked the other.
"New York," answered Ralph. "Why, you look like Americans, too."
"We're from the same place," was the answer.
"And you look like newspaper men," remarked Alfred.
"That's a good guess," was the reply. "But how did you know?" he asked.
"I saw you taking notes as we walked across the field," answered Alfred.
"Good inference," he replied. "Are you looking for a job?"
"Yes, we're going into the aviation service," answered Ralph, with all
the assurance of a winner.
"See you again," was the final reply, as the two men left them.
"Now, I wonder if they have any American flags at this place?" remarked
Ralph.
They marched back and forth without a sign of that much desired emblem.
At one of the hangars two men were tugging at a machine, and slowly
bringing it out of the hangar. Without a word the boys sprang forward
and assisted in the operation, an act which brought thanks from the men.
Then, more in curiosity than anything else, they slowly walked around
the machine and examined its construction.
The aviator watched them for a few moments. Evidently, to his mind, the
boys knew all about flying machines, or, at least, must have had some
acquaintance with them. This seemed to interest him, and he began a
conversation with them. He soon learned their history, and bestowed
words of praise on them for what they had done.
"So you want to be aviators, eh?" he inquired.
"Yes, and we'll do anything to get in," said Alfred.
"To be aviators in the service of the Government it will be necessary to
take the Regulation course," said the man.
"There isn't time for that," said Ralph. "We can help out now, even if
we don't do any flying, can't we?"
The man chuckled. "I suppose you can tighten up bolts, examine, and
stretch the stay wires, and things like that?" he remarked.
"As well as take out the engine and overhaul it," added Ralph.
"Well, yes; that's a pretty good job; do you think you could do that?"
he asked.
"Why, yes; we know something about it," replied Ralph.
"Well, stay around here; we want some handy fellows; but I'm afraid
you'll have a hard job to get on the pay roll," he added.
"Never mind about that end of it; we want to be doing something; that's
the main thing," said Alfred.
It would not be interesting to go through the long details of work that
the boys entered into under those circumstances. Each day for more than
two months the boys found plenty of work to do. They became general
favorites at the camp, and while their services were not recognized in
an official way, as the regulations did not permit of the employment of
minors, still, in view of the fact that they had such an interesting
history, and had entered into the work with such zest the commandant at
the station permitted them to remain, and eventually provided them with
rations and quarters, to which was added a small pay, such as attached
to those in the messenger service.
During this period the boys had many opportunities to go aloft on
practice drills, and on more than one occasion they had the privilege of
operating the machines while in flight, accompanied, of course, by the
regular pilots. Attached to the station were a half-dozen machines used
for the purpose of teaching control, and to enable pupils to become
familiar with the handling of the machines. They were designed merely to
skim the ground, the power being so limited that they could not be
raised from the ground except for very short glides. These the boys
frequently used, and the experienced aviators were greatly pleased at
their wonderful progress. It was a strict rule, however, that none but
regularly licensed aviators should pilot the government machines, and
that prohibited them from handling the machines on regular service.
It was during the second week of the third month that the boys had the
first opportunity of showing their capabilities. During a trial flight
with sub-lieutenant Guyon, while at an altitude of five thousand feet,
Ralph noticed the machine dart downwardly, and, glancing back, saw
Guyon's head fall forward, and his hand drop from the lever.
Without waiting to inform Alfred he crawled out of the pit, and seizing
the control lever, pushed it back in time to bring the ship to an even
keel. Alfred saw the motion, and followed Ralph. Together they succeeded
in drawing the pilot to one side, thus enabling Ralph to let himself
down into the position which enabled him to handle the lateral controls,
that were operated by the feet.
With Ralph thus fully in control of the machine, Alfred turned his
attention to poor Guyon, who tried to raise his head, and occasionally
gasped, as though trying to recover his breath. It was not until the
machine was nearing the earth that he opened his eyes, and seemed to
realize his position, but he was too weak to give any instructions or
render assistance.
Ralph made a good landing, and the moment the machine ceased to move
Alfred jumped from it, and ran to the office of the surgeon.
"Something is the matter with the lieutenant!" he cried, as he entered
the door.
"What is the trouble? Where is he?" asked the surgeon, as he moved out
of the door in response to Alfred's appeal.
"He was taken sick while we were in the air," said Alfred.
"And how did you happen to get down safely?" asked the surgeon.
"We took charge of the machine," replied Alfred.
"Who are _we_?" he asked.
"Ralph and myself; we were up with him."
The lieutenant was being taken from the machine when the surgeon
arrived. Restoratives were at once applied, and within a half hour the
attack seemed to wear itself away, and he began to show a normal color.
His eyes rested on Alfred when he awoke from the first quiet nap, and
raising his hand approvingly said: "That was a good job, Alfred;
couldn't have been better."
"What do you mean?" asked Alfred.
"You brought us down all right, I mean," he replied.
"Oh, Ralph did that," was the reply of Alfred.
"Well, no matter; you fellows didn't get rattled; that's the main
thing," said the lieutenant.
An incident of this kind could not remain a secret long in a camp of
this character. The Commandant took particular occasion to commend them
for their performance, and it was a long step in their favor when the
corps moved to the north to take its place in the great aviation camp
directly south of Verdun.