BLAINE'S FURTHER ADVENTURES
Once more sharp reports from the Archies came from below. Whether
these were by the battery he had seen Lafe could not now tell. So
thick was the fog, the gun flashings did not reach up to where he was
now spiraling still upward, in order to get beyond the chance effect of
some stray shot.
All along the now distant battle line the dull red glow of bursting
shells lined the front as the rumble of sound jarred more clearly upon
his ears. Undoubtedly some kind of battle must be going on. Was it
one result of the night raid? Was Fritz, now that his observation
points were at least temporarily out of active service, taking his
revenge by another drive? And where the Allies would least suspect?
That is, right over the Appincourte Bluff?
"What ought I do?" reflected Blaine, still gently climbing higher.
"It's a still night, foggy, good for most anything up here, except to
see or be seen and that's what I don't want. Wonder if poor Finzer had
his night signals along? Ah, here they are!"
He was overhauling with one hand a small locker that was part of the
fuselage Moreover, there were still two unused sheafs of ammunition
for the Lewis gun and a few grenades and bombs. Finzer had not
expended all his allotment in the balloon attack.
"Guess I'd better edge in towards where that drive seems to be
centering. That is the reason, probably, that this battery broke in
where I was on the point of going up again. Fritz is up to some new
thing, I'll bet."
Taking his bearings as best he could, Blaine headed more westward,
keeping at an elevation of six or seven thousand feet.
"Wonder what they'll think back at the station when they don't find me
among the ones that get back? Poor Milt! I lost my machine; he lost
his life. And there were others, too. That Montana chap Bangs. Last
I saw of him he was right under one of them sausages, letting Fritz
have it with the Lewis. Looked like something would get him -- heigho!
What is that?"
Down below, slightly to his rear, there flashed through the fog a short
series of vari-colored lights, which to Blaine's active mind spelled
forth:
"Boches 'bout to get me. Big drive on hand. Yonder they go -- watch
out!"
That was all, but it was enough. Blaine knew that it must come from
another of the raiding scouts who had somehow gone down in
No-Man's-Land. It might come from a shell hole. Anyway, it was being
sent up by some one risking almost certain death in order to let the
Allies know that big things were already under way.
"Where are the Boche planes?" Blaine had more than once asked himself.
The balloons were gone. The few enemy planes left to guard the
gasbags had been put to flight by the daring raiders. Blaine himself
had sent one down in flames. Others had followed the retreating
raiders. Now that a night drive was on, other planes would be
converging towards the salient thus suddenly selected for a night
assault. In another instant Blaine's mind was made up.
"Here's at you, my friend," he said to himself. "I'll try to find out
who and what you are. Damn the risk!"
With the thought he turned the nose of the triplane downward, so that
it was almost at a perpendicular angle. Before this he had noted that
around the point whence had risen that telltale signal there seemed to
be a foggy void. This meant to Lafe that, for the present at least,
there was nothing doing at this particular spot. Of course those
signal lights might draw dangerous attention, but Blaine had resolved
to risk the chances of that. Perhaps one of his comrades in distress
had deliberately courted death or imprisonment m order to let their
side know what was taking place. "Bully boy, whoever he is!" he
thought.
Briskly yet carefully working his machine, Lafe descended until, when
he flatted out, he could see through the fog the darker background of
war-torn earth.
"I'll flash our private signal," he resolved. "He may see it. So may
Fritz. But -- here goes!"
Lafe pressed with his foot upon a certain button that was connected
with an electric flashlight fastened in a special groove at a downward
angle of the fuselage or body of the car. At each pressure certain
flashes emitted the message of inquiry in private code.
"Where are you, pal? I'm coming. Let me know if you can."
Circling round at an even slightly lower level, he continued to signal
but without avail. Just as he was about to quit and rise higher again,
he detected a faint red and blue gleam that apparently ceased without
rime or reason. One faint glimmer succeeded, but died out as if
suddenly broken off.
Without waiting for more Blaine gave a searching look around but,
seeing nothing through the mist, gently, cautiously felt his way
downward, easing up in speed as best he could. The wheels jolted over
rough but level ground, until the nose of the plane shoved itself
against an abrupt angle of rough earth that brought him to a halt all
at once. Quickly he adjusted the controls and, revolver in hand,
boldly leaped out.
Dark it was, except for the lurid flashings of distant artillery, while
to the west the roar of infantry battle sounded much nearer than when
Lafe was high up in the air.
"Where am I?" he asked himself, reaching for his pocket flashlight.
"Surely this must be No-Man's-Land!"
Thus thinking, he stumbled against another plane; not his, but the
wreck of another one. Intuitively he felt that he must have landed
right. Feeling round him, he detected certain signs that made him
almost sure one of the raiding scout machines had fallen here.
"This must be one of those big shell holes," he thought. "Why -- what
if it is where those signals came from?"
Just as Blaine was about to climb up the incline of disrupted earth,
his flashlight sending gleams here and there, a voice he recognized
,sounded:
"Halt, you! I heard your motor, but you won't get me without a fight."
"Damn if it ain't Buck all righty," said Blaine, still climbing.
He turned his light to where the voice sounded, and bellowed,
regardless of consequences:
"Don't you know your squad leader?"
"Good gracious! You -- here?" The youth from Butte, Montana, was
peering down at advancing form, delighted amazement in face, but he
only said: "Shut off your light Sergeant! We're surrounded by - by -
them! That's better! Where'd you come from?"
"Oh, I just dropped down in answer to your signal. I thought if the
Boches were about to get you, they might have another chance at me,
see?"
A faint yet hilarious chuckle came forth. Then:
"Say, Lafe, when I first tumbled down here, I thought I was a goner.
But I wasn't hurt much. My machine is smashed, though."
"What brought you down? Why didn't you go a little further?"
"I would have, but Archie got me just as I thought I was about safe.
That ain't all. I guess our downing them sausages was a bit too for
Hans. Directly after that they started the hottest barrage fire you've
seen in a month of Sundays. Keepin' it up yet, only they've slacked a
bit along here. I kept thinkin' how I was going to get out of this
when I heard the tramp and scuffle of advancing infantry.
"All at once I knew. They're sour yet over busting up their big
underground at Appincourte Bluff; and now comes this raid of ours and
away goes that string of a dozen balloons. I guess it was too much."
"Infantry! What infantry? Oh, you mean Fritzy!"
"Who else? Well, Fritz came with such a rush he didn't look for me.
There was a lot of him passed. I scrunched down inside this crater the
best I knew how and directly I knew I must let our folks know. Then's
when I sent up my signals -- in code, of course."
\"That's so, Buck. I saw 'em and read 'em."
Buck was grinning to himself.
"You?" Bangs looked his astonishment. "Well, if we warned our folks in
time, and I guess I did by the sounds, and then caught hold of you, it
was a lucky venture."
"You caught me all right. But how are we going to get away? Say your
machine is busted?"
"How'd ye know?"
"Well, by the way it came down and struck. I have no tools with me,
and I had to crawl in here in a hurry."
"Come on," ordered the Sergeant in his official tone. "We've got no
time to lose. I've got tools or rather Milt had."
"What's the matter with Finzer?" Buck was keenly concerned for he and
Milt had been quite chummy.
Blaine told him briefly all that had happened.
"And you had to leave him back there? Well - well, it's war. Sure he
was dead? By thunder! I'll get even yet with Hans -- Gawd willin'.
The skunks!"
All this and more while Lafe, now alert and busy, was getting out
Finzer's tools. Presently the two were examining Buck's plane which
they found was practically all right except for a big rent in two of
the wings. With the appliances at land this did not take long, for
both worked frantically, knowing that hostile planes from the
neighboring front would soon be hovering near and also that the
infantry was due either to reform the battle line or, if not, that
reinforcements might pass at any time.
In a very short while the job was done. To Blaine's surprise Buck
began nimbly climbing back up the crater wall.
"Where ye going?" he gently called, but only heard in reply:
"In a minute -- in a minute!"
But while Blaine was fuming, still getting things in readiness, Bangs
slid back down the embankment, dragging a shabby gray army overcoat.
Lafe looked disgusted. He snatched it, held it up, flashed his light
over it, then cast it down, saying:
"That's a Boche infantry coat -- officer's, I reckon. What do we want
of that? Get into your place. I've turned your machine round."
Both climbed in, Bangs stowing in his own machine the coat he had
delayed both to secure, a said the while:
"When those charging battalions went by, of their officers threw away
his coat. They were on a double quick, to reinforce others that gone
on before I came down.
"Lucky they happened to have no planes. Otherwise I'd never pulled
through. As it was she was a close squeeze. I slipped down, bagged
the coat, and here she is. You needn't laugh, Sergeant. There's maps
and papers inside. Might be wuth something to our side yet."
"Bully for you, Bangs! I was wrong. Are you ready? Then follow me!
We're going to stick round the Boche flanks a bit and who knows what we
may run up against?"
Without a bit of trouble Blaine's triplane glided upward after a short
slide over the rough level of No-Man's-Land, and he was off. Buck
attempted to follow but the machine skidded sideways, struck a slope
and after a mute struggle with adverse conditions came to a standstill.
Cursing to himself, Buck jumped out, forced his plane to a more stable
level, then mounting to his seat again he put on all power to try to
overtake his companion. But in that short interval Blaine had vanished
in fog.
"If this isn't bad luck, I don't know what is!" soliloquized Buck, as
his Nieuport began to rise. "If I'd got off at first, I wouldn't 'a'
lost Lafe. Well, I must do a trifle of scouting on my own hook. "
Buck was climbing, not too fast, for he watched, still hoping that
something might happen that he would sight Blaine again. Flying thus
easily, climbing still higher, he was all at once startled by a burst
of machine gun fire from the ground ahead. There came a reply higher
up, and he felt that this must come from Lafe.
Mounting swiftly, he presently became conscious that a machine was
hovering above and behind, "getting on his tail" as the slang runs
among aviators at the front. The quickest way to avert the danger was
first to try the "side loop" which is a kind of "loop-the-loop"
sideways, a risky trick, yet a good thing if rightly done. Buck tried
it instantly. When upside down he darted ahead swiftly but in a
reversed course, bringing him fairly behind the other plane as he,
righted.
As he came up to a level again, now behind his opponent, he saw for an
instant that the shadow looming scarce fifty yards ahead looked
strangely like Blaine's machine. What to do next -- before firing?
Use his private signal, of course. No sooner thought than done. Two
peculiar flares shot forth, each glowing brightly for an instant, then
vanishing.
"But -- hey?" Bangs was ejaculating to himself excitedly. "Will he
answer?"
Up, up climbed Buck, his pulses throbbing for one long instant, the
nose of his machine settling rapidly on the tail of the other plane.
Then came an answering flash. After that another.
"Bully for you, Lafe! My, that was a close call! I mustn't lose track
of him again. We'll be there with the goods yet, if we stick
together." This to himself.
Presently both machines were moving side by side, hardly fifty yards
apart. To come closer at this rate of speed these small scouting
planes maintaining would have caused a mutual air suction that might
cause a collision. This is the real cause of many of the accidents
that befall inexperienced aviators, when out flying, perhaps by
themselves.
The night, of course, was far spent. The fog was lightening
imperceptibly. Their watches betokened that it was nearing three a.m.
Blaine got out his megaphone, for talking at high altitudes is much a
matter of expanded lung power. He began, as usual, with a joke.
"Like to 'a' got you back there!" he shouted. "Where you been?"
"Looking for you mainly. What you going do next?"
"See that line of fire off norwest! We that's where our front and
Johnny Bull's join. Appincourte Bluff seems either to have been turned
or to have turned Fritzy off. Ready for a scrimmage?"
"You ought to know, Lafe!" Bangs laughed easily into the megaphone.
"Ready for most anything."
"Well, our front there is rather weak. Follow me. Don't lose me.
We'll give that infantry a time trying to find out who we are that's
spitting on them from overhead. Catch me?"
"Yep-fire away! Suits me!"
In another few seconds the two machines were flying through the
thinning fog, gradually lowering their altitude and nearing at a rate
of a mile and a half a minute the advancing lines of the enemy,
revealed only to these fliers by the close barrage fire maintained by
their artillery in the rear.
Of course beyond this barrage must be certain observation planes. The
chance must be taken of meeting one of these. Meanwhile the first
thing was to begin upon the assaulting battalions with their machine
guns.
Almost in an instant they were over the front platoons, flying as close
as they dared in order to escape the barrage that was passing overhead,
falling now behind the front trench line of the Allies. This in order
to stop, or at least hinder the arrival of such reinforcements as could
be thrown forward to strengthen this suddenly assailed point.
These planes, being of a late design, had a device whereby the aim of
the Lewis gun could be instantly altered from a horizontal to a
perpendicular slant. Moreover both Blaine and Bangs had repeating
rifles, and revolvers. Great dexterity was shown by each as their
machines, slackening their speed to that most suitable for accurate
firing, their motors roaring right over the assaulting columns, poured
down a spray of bullets that inevitably found a human mark.
Fritzy usually charges in dense masses. He is "cannon fodder"; he knows
it, but apparently doesn't care. Now, however, he dodged, dived,
hunted shell holes, and otherwise evinced extreme terror. First one
plane, then the other, at nearest safe distance apart, rained down
showers of death. Was this another repetition that earlier trench
assault that resulted in the destruction of the sausages? It looked
so. might also be other swift moving machines behind, each pouring
leaden showers on infantry now defenseless. Yet a moment before they
were placidly plodding on towards the death in front, for which they
had been driven forth by their officers that night.
Occasional shots were fired upward by soldiers here and there. But
though close, so swift were the machines that they vanished almost at
once from the time of their first appearance at any given point.
Only two? No more. Fritzy began to take courage. Both planes were
now whirring on somewhere else. But were they truly gone?
Even while officers were taking heart and again driving forward their
men, back came the two planes upon their former path, but now going
south instead of north.
Again were the former scenes repeated, with even worse results.
But now arose another sound, a sound as of an advance from the Allied
trenches. What could be?