WINNING PROMOTIONS
Looking back, Orris saw his nearest foe, apparently caught by the same
whirlwind that had nearly unseated him, go side-looping over and over
as if in the grasp of mighty, invisible forces that he was unable to
meet or control.
"It's safety first, I guess, for us all," he thought, at once diving
into the nearing thunder burst that closed round him like a black pall,
a pall now threaded and convulsed with electric forces that showed only
in vivid flashes and deafening thunders.
The winds, too, picked him up, whirled him about and otherwise so
tossed his machine here, there, yonder, that for five fearful minutes
he hardly knew where or what he was. The wind, now bitter cold, would
have frozen his flesh but for his sheathing of wool and leather that
protected his face, arms and body. Blinding gusts of rain, sleet and
frozen snow buffeted the planes, the shield of the fuselage, and all of
himself that was visible.
By this time Blaine, the German planes, his own late adversary, had all
vanished. He was alone, like a buffeted, tossed, shaken twig, in that
wild vortex of darkness and storm.
With his machine gun jammed and his petrol running low, what was there
for him to do but descend and make for the home aerodrome?
"Might as well," he reflected. "We've already overstayed our time."
Pointing gently downwards, he suffered himself to drift. That is, if
one in the midst of a blinding storm and seated in a war-plane may be
supposed to drift. Rather it was being tossed about, constant
vigilance at the controls alone keeping his plane from literally
flopping over and somersaulting here and there, like a dead leaf.
Then without warning he felt the machine dropping down, down, down.
Yet the planes were level and the whole natural resisting power of the
machine was at its usual operation.
"By George! This storm has made an air cave underneath. I must get
busy."
Another twist of the levers and the plane jumped forward, for the first
time feeling no resistance of the storm. And, while he was glancing
around for more light, out he shot like an arrow from a bow into the
clear sunlight, the earth near -- too near, in fact.
Back of him the storm clouds were whisking themselves away so rapidly
that the transition was almost staggering. And below -- what was it he
now saw?
For answer, almost before his own mind had sensed the change, there
came the spatter of Archies by the dozen and the menacing roar of
machine guns, sheltered here and there over the scraggy plain within
the pill-boxes that have of late been substituted for the vanishing
trench lines. Artillery bombardments by the Allies have so devastated
certain regions that trenches have become impossible; hence the
concrete pillboxes.
"Lucky I've some gasoline left," thought Erwin, surprised but not
unduly alarmed. "It's a race now between me and the bullets."
Instantly he put on high speed, at the same time rising in zigzags
while the bombardment continued increasingly.
Right ahead, however, he saw what looked like a communicating
underground trench; and at certain intervals were openings. These
openings revealed to him a blurring, moving mass, muddy gray, yet with
glints here and there as of some substance brighter. Closer yet he
flew, regardless of safety. His air tabulator was not working. That
was a sign that he was within two to three hundred feet of the earth.
All at once something flashed out from this moving mass that presently
disappeared underground again.
Archie had momentarily stopped. But an unmistakable whistle of lead
was accompanied by a metallic puncture below. The bullet hit the near
end of his petrol tank almost at his knee. Now he knew.
"Lordy!" he palpitated. "That's too near!" Already his fingers were
twisting the speed accelerator, while up went the nose of his machine.
Still the Archies spake not, but the spat, spat, spat of real rifle
bullets followed his retreat.
Just then his hand, feeling below, came in contact with the hand
grenades which he had forgotten amid the excitement of his later
flight. Ahead rose a swell of land that he knew terminated in a bluff
abutting upon one of the smaller streams of that region. This
underground trench, evidently dug at great cost of labor and life, went
straight for that bluff.
Their own aerodrome lay only a few miles opposite.
By actual and repeated reconnaissance both from below and in the air,
this bluff was considered as deserted, or held at most by a very small
force. This was owing to its supposed isolation.
Evidently Erwin had just made a great discovery. At least he hoped so.
On he flew. His machine was hit in many places, principally the wings,
the tail and along the under side of the fuselage. Through this had
come the ball that nearly perforated the tank.
There was one more opening ahead and then the trench sank out of sight
near the base of the low bluff. Orry's hand closed over the first
grenade. He was really an expert bomb-thrower. At great risk he
dipped gradually until, when about at the point overhead he desired, he
threw two bombs in swift succession. Then-up, up rapidly. With all
the power of his engine he climbed, while two sharp explosions sounded
from below.
Had the lad looked down he would have seen the trench walls at the open
space crumble inward, while the mass of moving gray appeared to
disintegrate, to vanish for the time being.
But with the throwing of the bombs, Erwin had other work on hand.
Archie had broken loose again. One larger molded shot ripped through
the tail of the Bleriot, ricocheted obliquely and hit that same tank
again, but with more force. His head lowered, the lad saw what had
been done. More than that he saw what impended. The petrol was low.
Being under fire, at any moment a stray shot might ignite what little
was left. Pointing the machine still more upward, he seized a bunch of
loose lint, used to sop up recurring leaks here and there, and with a
handy screw driver he managed to stop the rent in the metal with a few
sharp adroit punchings.
Again to the machine, now over and beyond the bluffs; over the
crinkling muddy stream, now almost overflowing its banks. On the bluff
behind a squad of men in gray were training one of the Archies that had
been dragged up from somewhere underneath.
"I've got to give her all the head she'll take," he thought. "That gun
will get me if they understand their business."
Over beyond the stream a low embankment rose well up at perhaps three
to f our hundred yards from its first bank. Erwin was rising in a
steep climb, zigzagging crazily for the machine was giving out, owing
to lack of fuel. But he made a last effort to thus dodge the rain of
bullets that began to pelt upon him from the rear. Another larger gun
came up. Both joined in firing.
A shell splinter struck his shoulder, tearing loose the leather
garment, while a searing, hot agony seized him, paralyzing his left arm.
He was over the second embankment when the final crisis came. Were
these foes or friends that were popping up, pointing weapons at those
behind? Friends surely! Down he had better go. The pain was so acute
that only one arm was now at his service, while the dizziness that
accompanies the pain of severe gun wounds filled his brain, dimmed his
eyes, palsied his last despairing effort to land somehow behind that
sheltering embankment.
Just then came a last explosion close behind. He seemed to be going
down, down -- where?
Then a terrific shock, and all consciousness left him. The shock
seemed to drive from him all notion of anything or anybody. He knew
nothing, nothing - nothing --
When at last Orris Erwin again knew that he was in the land of the
living he was in a base hospital behind the front, and not far from his
own aerodrome. His shoulder was in bandages. His left arm was in
splints, but not painful. What seemed to be other bandages swathed his
lower legs. Altogether he felt himself to be in pretty bad shape.
Then appeared Sergeant Anson who, seeing that Erwin was now awake and
sensible, paused, a dry grin upon his weather-worn visage.
"Huh! Where's that Bleriot you or Blaine were to bring back?"
But the smile that accompanied this was not condemnatory by any means.
"I stuck to it, sir, long as I could stick to anything. How do I
happen to be trussed up this way here?"
For a first reply the Sergeant threw back his head and gave vent to a
real laugh. Then he patted Orry's curly head gently.
"You'll know in due time, youngster! Where's your pilot, Lafe Blaine?"
"Isn't Blaine back, too, and in that Death's Head Boche plane he -- we
took from them back of their lines? As for the Bleriot, I was in it
last I remember."
Here the door of the ward opened, and who should walk in but Blaine
himself, with Monsieur Cheval following. Cheval wore upon his breast a
silver medal resembling nothing so much as an ace. For a wonder Blaine
himself wore a tricolor ribbon with a tiny gold cross that Erwin was
sure he had never seen his athletic countryman have before.
At sight of Erwin's pale face and rather fragile form, now animated
with conversational fire and energy, the big American turned to his
French comrade, saying:
"There, my friend! Did I not tell you that our brave little comrade
would be more like himself today than he has been any time these ten
days? Say little one," bending over Orry affectionately, "have you got
over that nasty spell yet? Ha -- I guess so!"
"Where's that Bleriot the Sergeant said we must bring back? I was in
it when -- when the Boches or -- or the devil got me."
"That Bleriot, like yourself, mon comrade, is in the hospital; that is,
the repair shop." This from Monsieur Cheval, still wearing his right
arm in a sling, though now divested of splints.
"Oh!" A flash of dim recollection came to Orry for a moment, "I kind
of remember. First there was a bluff, with what looked like a
communicating trench, in spots. Just as if most of it was covered. I
dropped some bombs I had left on the moving gray something I saw.
After that I skimmed over the bluff. Then there was a stream, and
another embankment beyond. After that I don't seem to remember much.
How did I get here?"
"You got here, Orry, because the Boches downed you right over our front
trench at this angle, which is nearer the Boche line than anywhere in
this sector. We didn't even know that the enemy had dug a covered
trench to the far side of the bluff on the river bank until you let us
know by dropping bombs on them. This so angered them that they dragged
out two Archies and peppered you good. You fell into our trench, and -
and with the knowledge you gave us we directed our heavy artillery
right on that bluff.
Here Blaine grinned complacently while patting Orry's head again, very
gently though, on account of the bandages.
"Yes, mon comrade," supplemented Cheval. "It was to you that our
batteries owe their accuracy of firing in dealing with that bluff. Do,
you know that they must have been digging there for days, perhaps
weeks? The whole interior had been hollowed out, and there was a
picked battalion stationed there. La, la! It was a lucky accident
that led you in my own good Bleriot to lay open to us the secrets of
those over yonder, who are trying to enslave the world."
"But -- but I didn't know," murmured Erwin gratified, yet somehow
feeling as if honors were being heaped gratuitously on his undeserving
head. Something of this escaped him the while. Monsieur Cheval held
up a protesting hand.
"No, no! You must not! You shall know what France thinks of the
service you have done for her, and -- yes, for your own
brothers-in-arms as well. Listen! You are already promoted, Monsieur
Erwin. I may tell you that much. And so is your comrade, Blaine.
Look! He already wears his decoration."
"Oh, well," said Orris wearily, "we didn't do so much after all. We
did our bombing -- what we were sent to do. Then we somehow had to go
down in back of the Boche lines. While there we took that German
machine. It was right handy, and no trouble. What else could I do but
bring back your Bleriot, leaving Lafe here to do all the work of
fetching in that Boche machine and the Boche himself? Got back all
right, did you, Lafe. Looked to me when that other crowd tackled us as
if you might have your hands full."
Blaine here smiled, nodded, and playfully rejoined:
"Looked to me as if you, too, would have some time getting back. And I
guess you did too, by the way you look now."
All this was vaguely complimentary, yet rather overdoing the thing, or
so Erwin seemed to feel, for he sighed and turned on his pillow as if
weary.
At this juncture the ward door again opened and there walked in several
uniformed men who had just stepped out of a military car, visible
through the temporarily open door.
One of these strode forward, while the rest followed. This foremost
one was of distinguished appearance and bore on arm and shoulder the
insignia of a French general. The others were also in uniform, except
for one who wore a frock coat.
Just at this minute another door opened and there entered a tall,
squarely built form in United States khaki, but without decoration
except for the stars of a major general modestly affixed to his
straight, stiff coat collar.
"Why, there's General Pershing!" whispered Blaine, keeping his hand at
the salute which he had intuitively begun upon the appearance of the
French.
"Petain and Pershing!" gasped Orris to himself, yet turning wearily
from a futile attempt at saluting like the rest.
The two commanders greeted each other cordially, though the meeting was
rather unexpected on the part of both. Each had heard of the night
bombardment which had taken place only a few days back. Pershing was
on his way to some American billet not far from here. Petain, having
already received reports of the recent exploits of the two airmen, and
having decorated Blaine, was now bent upon doing similar things for
this wounded American lad who had unwittingly been of such service to
the French along its sector.
In a kindly and unassuming way Petain, now reinforced by the presence
of the American general, complimented Orris on what he had done,
concluding with: "Not only did you and your comrade capture and bring
home a German aviator and his machine, but you have sent two others in
the earth and, after all this, while hard pressed by the enemy, you
managed to descend upon the foe right where they were preparing for
secret attack. This you frustrated, at great physical cost to
yourself. For all this my Government bestows upon you this decoration."
While all the staff looked on, with nurses and flyers respectfully in
the background, the general pinned on Erwin's breast a decoration
similar to that bestowed upon Blaine. Continuing, the general said:
"When you are again able to rejoin the squadron, you, like your friend,
will find that your own government has not only approved, but rewarded
you also for what you have done. Farewell!" The general with his
escort left. General Pershing stopped only long enough to shake hands
informally with those remaining, particularly with Cheval, Blaine and
finally with Erwin. Walking with Sergeant Anson towards the door, the
general turned, saying over his shoulder:
"It wouldn't surprise me a little bit if the heads of the American
Corps at Washington did not send you two something in the near future.
If they do, try and live up to it. Good-bye!"
He was gone. Monsieur Cheval had also followed, more slowly.
Blaine and Erwin looked at each other meaningfully.
"Reckon anything will happen, Lafe?"
"How should I know, Orry? Wait awhile and see."
Ten days later arrived two war medals, and two appointments; one for
Blaine as sergeant in the aviation corps, the other for Orry as first
corporal in the same.