A THRILLING EXPERIENCE IN THE AIR
It was with feelings of joy that the boys stepped out of their tent the
following morning to learn that the lieutenant had decided on a trial
spin in the forenoon, preparatory to the real start, which was to take
place at two in the afternoon. The engine was turned over, and the
machine held down while the usual hour's running test was going on.
Everything seemed to be in order, the engine was stopped and another
inspection made when the lieutenant gave the order to mount the machine.
In this type of military machine the swivel gun is at the extreme
forward end, and the pilot directly behind the gunner, and at a slight
elevation above the gun. Both gunner and pilot are housed in, and in
most cases strapped to the body of the machine to prevent any accidental
falling out, as there have been numerous accidents due to men being
thrown from their perches.
The boys found ample room in the forward pit, and at a word the machine
was released and glided forward. The new machine gave them a sensation
different from the former one, as it appeared to ride more easily and
steadily. In fact, there is just the same difference in the motion of
flying machines as there is in autos, some, the small machines, seeming
to glide over the ground and impart every bump to the occupants, as
might be expected of a light machine.
A heavy flying machine, however, seems to move along with the utmost
ease, and does not sway from side to side when sailing through cross
currents. Naturally, such a machine is a more stable base for machine
guns as well as for observation.
Alfred's particular hobby was kodaking. On this occasion, the first time
he had an opportunity, he prepared himself with a camera. The
lieutenant, learning of Alfred's penchant in this direction, had a
regulation government instrument sent over, and attached to the machine,
to Alfred's surprise.
Before starting out, the lieutenant said: "I want to give you some
points now, in using the camera. Photographs, in order to have any
military value, must be identified,--that is, they must be made at such
altitudes, and with reference to certain marked characteristics on the
earth, that we may be able to place them on the topographical maps of
the particular section, and thus verify them day after day."
"What do you mean by verifying them day after day?" asked Alfred.
"I mean by that to see what changes have taken place in the same view
between the taking of the two pictures," replied the officer.
"Well, what possible changes could take place in a day or two?" asked
Ralph in astonishment.
"A great many, and very important ones, too," answered the lieutenant.
"The camera sees what the eye does not notice. If a picture is taken of
a certain section today, and the following day another picture is
snapped, a comparison of the two will show whether or not there has been
a movement of troops, or, whether or not a certain undistinguishable
object was something movable, or not."
"Is that the way the map of the enemy's country is made up?" asked
Alfred.
"Yes, and every detail is noted, so that when you commence the work be
careful to notice something which will distinguish the exact place where
you are located; also put down the direction of the flight over that
same area, and the altitude at which we are flying."
As the machine glided over the treetops and the village on the northern
border of the Meuse, the sun shone out with intense brilliancy. They
were going directly east, and both boys turned toward the lieutenant,
their eyes seeming to say: "So you are going to take a peep at the
front, by way of experiment?" which was exactly what the lieutenant
purposed doing.
The altimeter now registered 1800 meters, considerably over a mile high.
From that point they could see to Verdun, and thirty miles east of
Verdun, could be noted the blurred outlines and surroundings of Metz,
that greatest of all fortified German defences. On they went for nearly
three-quarters of an hour until a stream of some magnitude appeared to
the east, which they soon crossed.
They afterwards learned that this was the Mosel, which flows through
Metz. The latter city now loomed up so it could be plainly seen, and to
their right was another town, Nancy, a fortified French place. They were
about midway between the two places.
Suddenly an aeroplane appeared to the right, and the lieutenant turned
the machine in that direction. The boys were relieved to see the great
circle on the control planes of the machine in the distance, which
showed them it was a French reconnoitering airplane. In the east several
other machines were noticed hovering about, and the lieutenant at first
headed directly for them, but he soon turned to the north.
Below were seen numerous flashes of guns, and they knew from this that
the fighting lines must be along the river. The most startling thing
which occurred was a tremendous explosion that seemed to be right in the
machine itself, and they looked around startled at the suddenness of it,
for everything seemed peaceful enough to them at that altitude.
The lieutenant turned the machine, however, as he apprehended more
trouble, now that the gunners below had so luckily secured a fair range.
The first shot was followed in another moment by another, and the
lieutenant now began to dart the machine back and forth, and turn it in
short, sharp circles.
Another explosion took place, this time remarkably close, and pieces of
the flying machine came down, and brushed past the boys. The lieutenant
shook his head, as the boys glanced back. The machine was now circling
around, a peculiar manoeuver, the boys thought, as they looked at each
other for a possible explanation.
Ralph looked back, and noticed that the lieutenant, with an alarmed look
on his face, was constantly glancing back to the tail planes. The
steering lever seemed to be jammed. Ralph had an idea that something was
wrong, and crawled over the body until he was alongside of the
lieutenant. The latter pointed to the control lever, and Ralph
understood.
Without waiting for instructions from the lieutenant, he cautiously made
his way along the chassis, following up the wires which were indicated
by the lieutenant. Within four feet of the tail plane Ralph halted.
Then, reaching down, he succeeded in grasping a dangling wire, and held
up the end for the lieutenant's inspection. After several attempts he
found the other end of the wire, which had been severed by a shot from a
shrapnel shell.
The ship was still circling around, so without waiting to repair the
break Ralph turned the rudder, and, glancing at the lieutenant, saw the
latter smile, and then by motions direct him to give the control plane a
still further push in the right direction. It was impossible for Ralph
to hear anything the lieutenant said, but as soon as the airplane was
fairly headed for the west, the power was shut off, and the machine
began to descend.
"Good boy!" shouted the lieutenant. "Can you fasten them together?" he
asked.
"I am afraid not," replied Ralph. "A piece seems to have been shot away.
But I can take care of it if you will only direct me to pull it to the
right or to the left."
"All right, then. Do you see that great patch of green, directly beyond
the castle?" asked the lieutenant.
"I can see it plainly," replied Ralph. "Shall I steer for it?" he asked.
"Oh, no. We must come up from the south. Note the direction of the wind
from the smoke. Make a long sweep. We are now at an altitude of 1200
meters. We can volplane twelve kilometers from this height," remarked
the lieutenant.
The turn was made to the south in a long sweep, Ralph continually
glancing forward to note the direction indicated by the lieutenant.
"Now straight ahead, and hold steady."
They were now rapidly approaching the earth; the machine gliding over
the tops of the trees at the border of the forest that ran along the
river bank. To their right, across the river, was a large town,
Pont-a-Mousson, and the castle ahead of them was a large school, from
which even then hundreds of children were emerging, and excitedly
rushing toward the approaching machine.
Down went the machine at a sharper angle; then, when close to the earth,
the rear control was sharply turned, and the nose of the ship raised up,
but for an instant only, when the machine settled down, and, after
running along a hundred feet, stopped.
The agitated children pressed about, and the lieutenant tried in vain to
keep them off. Some more venturesome than others, after seeing Ralph and
Alfred, began to question them. To the relief of the boys they learned
that the French out-posts were less than a mile distant.
"Let us make the repairs as rapidly as possible," said the lieutenant.
An examination showed that not only was the control wire cut in two
places, but the vertical plane had its pivot shot away, thus accounting
for the peculiar action of the lever, which seemed to jam whenever an
attempt was made to turn it to the right. Ralph did not know this, while
seated astride the body and manipulating the plane, and it was obvious
that even though he had succeeded in splicing the wire, it would have
been impossible, with the rudder in that condition, to turn by means of
the wire controls.
Assisted by the machinist from the garage belonging to the owner of the
school, they completed the repairs in an hour, and, hungry though they
were, they again went aloft and sailed for their camp, which was reached
after an absence of three hours.
They thus had less than a hour to get a hurried meal and prepare to
line up with the squadron, to carry out the orders for the movement to
the north. They were now going to that section of the fighting line in
France where the most intense struggles up to that time had taken place,
and where, ever since the opening of the conflict the most stupendous
operations were being carried out to gain the mastery.
Imagine, if you can, the sight that met their gaze, as they took their
place on the extreme right of the three squadrons, which were about to
launch on this memorable occasion. They were about twenty miles south of
the city of Verdun. The extreme northern aviation base was not more than
eight miles southwest of the city, located on a level plain east of the
forest of Argonne, and close to the Aire river, a tributary of the
Aisne.
The trip was a short one, as the actual flying distance was less than
fifteen miles. Long before they reached the scene of the great camp,
they could see the thousands of vehicles, and the hundreds of thousands
of soldiers, on the highways, in the fields, and around the villages
along the two main railways which threaded their way along the wide
valleys between the Meuse and the Aire.
During every mile of the trip they were under the constant vigilance of
the officers, who moved them into echelon, formed them into squares, or
caused them to trail in columns of two or three, the object being to
accustom the pilots to obey and execute signals while in flight.