BACK HOME
Blaine knew good advice when it came. His own more cumbersome machine
having at last the right slope for rising, even in its crippled state,
did rise, and rapidly, so that Lafe was much encouraged.
Bangs, still overhead, darted forward at a startling pace directly for
the nearest enemy plane that intuitively dodged. He swooped to the
left and engaged in the subtle, lightning-like maneuvers which so often
accompany the opposing efforts of two skilled antagonists seeking to
gain the advantage one over the other.
This, as it was intended, gave Blaine his first chance to rise
uninterruptedly and gain such height and distance as he desired.
Meantime the gray dawn was slowly growing, enabling him to see in the
south certain masses of men, disordered, yet moving with a common
impulse towards the east. Undoubtedly they were the retreating
Germans, at last giving way before the offensive that had been launched
upon them by the Allies early the evening before.
The series of explosions and flames that they had seen dimly, from the
forest surrounded oval, was the destruction made by the enemy along the
lines of their night's retreat. They were going back to what has
become known as the famed Hindenburg line or base, which for some time
marked the end of the now retirement of the Boche forces on the west
front.
Having attained sufficient height, Blaine turned more westward; on
account of Stanley, he was determined to make the shortest cut towards
the home aerodrome. But here, too, another flock of enemy fliers was
hanging over the advancing Allies so that Blaine, for sake of caution,
rose up, up, still higher in the effort to avoid these new antagonists.
Looking back, Blaine now saw Bangs engaged, in fierce conflict with two
of the rearward squad of Boche fliers. Again he admired the marvelous
speed and dexterity of his chum as the circlings of the three were
faintly apparent.
All at once came a burst of flame from one of the three and down went
the burning plane like so many had gone before.
"Was that Buck?" gasped Blaine, greatly excited. "The other two seem
strangely harmonious. I must see more."
Round he wheeled and sailed towards the two remaining planes that were
zigzagging about each other a mile or more in the rear.
At a speed of two miles a minute, Blaine found himself almost
immediately being circled by the first plane, which was so much like
Buck's that he at first distinguished no difference. What first
aroused him was a roar of sound and a spatter of bullets that stabbed
his planes as the stranger flew by.
"By hokyl It's a Boche!" Blaine was already maneuvering to get some
shots himself when from the second plane, came a code signal that
instantly informed him of his first mistake.
"Go home!" the flashes commanded. "Leave, me to take care of Fritz."
Quick as a wink Blaine turned to the homeward flight again. But his
plane moved heavily. Back again came the German, but Bangs suddenly
intruded and the two scouts were soon banging, diving, dodging each
other while Blaine, pursued his former course as best he might.
But his speed was strangely slow. He had trouble in maintaining an
even flight, and there were more planes coming from the west. This was
the rear squadron of Germans, that had been overhanging the Allied
advance and signaling their own men further east.
"Buck and I -- we'll be overwhelmed, " though Lafe. "I'm growing
weaker. What the hell is the matter with me anyhow?" meaning his
planes of course.
But before the approaching Boches could surround Blaine or Bangs, still
fighting his foe, there rose suddenly out of a cloud to the southwest a
new flock of airplanes that instantly attacked the retreating foe.
All this time a terrific artillery fire was roaring out of the east, as
the result of the Boches signaling from their rear squadron, now being
rapidly whipped into flight by the new onslaught of Allied planes.
Where was Bangs? Just then Blaine saw the solitary Boche flier that
had first attacked him and afterwards got it hot from Buck, speeding at
a crippled pace towards the east. It passed Blaine who, having a sheaf
of ammunition ready, turned loose upon it forthwith as it passed.
This was all it needed, for the foe, one wing swinging loosely, sagged
earthward at a great pace, its pilot working frantically to keep on an
even keel.
Two passing Allied planes each gave it a shower of bullets that caused
it to topple over in mid-air, and go crashing down towards that grim
and gory field below. But where was Bangs?
Blaine's anxieties were deflected from Buck to his own plane which at
last turned earthward, not, crippled more by enemy aid, but - but --
"Why -- confound it! I'm out of gasoline again. Well, here goes!"
And he proceeded to carefully spiral down as gently as he could, no
easy job when all motive power is suddenly exhausted.
He landed in a broad shell-hole and at once began to apply restoratives
to Stanley who, very weak yet undaunted, asked where they were.
"Why, we're somewhere behind the Allied drive in what was
No-Man's-Land. But don't you bother! What I've got to do is to get
you back to our base somehow."
"You've been mighty good, Lafe. I'll do my best to help by laying
still and trying to get a mite stronger."
Here a groan was heard that caused Blaine to begin to investigate their
immediate surroundings. Nearby was a wrecked plane in which we two
Germans, one dead through the fall, and the other evidently dying. The
dying man was conscious and had heard Blaine and Stanley talking
together. Then came the groan. Instantly Blaine, rushing over,
recognized him.
"Why, it is Herman Bauer!" he exclaimed, as much for Stanley's benefit
as to show Bauer that he recognized him. "Anything I can do for you,
Bauer?"
"N-nein -- no," Bauer corrected himself. "I've got mine. Himmel! Eet
vas to me coming I guess -- vat?"
Here Bauer was seized by another convulsion that left him speechless,
staring and all but dead.
Blaine surveyed him coldly.
"I didn't know you were much of a flier," he said. "Were you that
chap's observer? Well, you must have photos, plans or something."
Then Blaine coolly proceeded to search both men, the dead pilot and the
one about to die. Bauer's eyes gleamed with hate as he managed to say:
"Gott strafe Englander!" He choked, panting, then whispered with his
last breath: "Gott strafe Amerikanner - schwein -- sch--"
The whisper died away in a choking deep in the throat. Bauer was dead.
He had paid the last great penalty. Blaine, still cool and unruffled,
continued his search until he was in possession of all the two men had
that was worth the trouble of taking. Among these were maps, air-craft
photos of the Allied trenches and one valuable map the communicating
transport and railway lines behind the new Tlindenburg front to which
Germans generally were retiring.
With Bauer dead and Stanley more comfortable, Blaine began looking over
his machine. It seemed all right but for lack of petrol and wings
being more punctured and ragged than usual.
"Where can I get petrol?" he more than once asked himself. "I could
either get on myself and join our men, or get back to the station. But
I can't leave Stanley. Hang it all! What'll I do?"
Lafe was about to give it up for the present, when Stanley from his
recumbent position said:
"Why don't you try that Boche plane? Seems like I heard Bauer say
something about petrol. Then he swore because he could not get up. I
didn't know then it was Bauer."
"Right you are, Stan! Why didn't I think of that before? I hope the
fall didn't smash their tank."
It so happened the tank was nearly all right, only a little of the oil
having leaked out through a twisted nut. Blaine got busy and in ten
minutes he had transferred the German petrol to his own tank, and
thereupon felt, as be phrased it, quite "like a new man."
Meantime stray shells were falling here and there, but none within a
dangerous margin. Still, it would be better to get somewhere else.
"Come on, Stan," said Blaine. "I don't like these stray duds and
coal-boxes. One of them might drop too near. Let me put you back in
your manhole."
Before this could be accomplished, Blaine heard another nearing noise,
at first high up in the air. Looking up he saw a tiny burst of flame
from a dark, swirling object that was plainly descending fast, then
faster still.
"Why, that must be a falling plane!" he exclaimed. "It's coming down
mighty close, too. What'd I better do?"
Apparently there was not much to do for half a minute but to watch.
And watch both he and Stanley did, wondering if it was enemy or friend,
for the burning plane was careening, fluttering -- not unlike a
broken-winged bird. In the gray dawn they could see the pilot, still
seated, dexterously manipulating every agency that might enable him to
keep his balance without falling out.
Down, down he came, finally plumping to earth, just outside the broad
shell-hole with a gentle crash. With this the flames burst up anew,
enveloping the crushed wings, and rendering the very nearness a danger.
But the goggled, leather-coated masked man had already sprung out, his
personal belongings in hand, and stumbled up the outer slope of the
crater. Suddenly he was halted by the stern command:
"Hands up -- you!" There was no mistaking Blaine's voice by one who
had often heard it before.
"Why, hullo, Lafe!" And Blaine and Stanley both recognized the wrecked
intruder. "I thought you had made the home base."
Sure enough it was Buck Bangs himself, breathless from exertion, yet
full of vim and energy still. He climbed nimbly up the slope and
gripped Blaine's hand, then stooping, greeted the still weak, yet
slowly recovering Stanley.
"I would have got there," said Blaine, replying to Buck's first remark,
"but my petrol all at once gave out. I barely managed to save a fall
by alighting here. How came you in this fix?"
"That's soon said. While I was fighting that plane that was after you
and you were on the way home, as I thought, along came two other
Boches. Well, we had it hot for a minute or so. I downed one
somewhere along here."
"Yonder it lies," and Blaine pointed at the ruins of the other plane,
near which lay Bauer and the other dead German. "Bet you'd never guess
who one of them two Huns is." Lafe eyed Bangs quizzically.
"Nix! I ain't much on blind guessing. I saw my chap was crippled and
I went back after the other, to keep him off you. I'd lost sight of
you, but I reasoned you'd be on the way home. I knew you couldn't go
very fast. Then all at once I saw I was afire. One of my wings had
caught from something -- probably an explosive shell. Well, I had to
turn back. Meantime those planes arriving from our side had swept the
Boches clean off. I saw I wasn't getting much of anywhere and I just
managed to light down here."
"But what about that chap over there?"
"Bother! I don't know beans about him; only if I helped bring him down
I guess it was a good job."
"Better job than you think! You remember Bauer, the chap that was
caught in the spy act back in the old station?"
Bangs nodded.
"He's one of the two over there," pointing at the airplane wreck, "and
he was alive when I heard him. I went to him, but he was practically
gone. Will say this for him though, he was a Hun all right, and he
died cussing us all, Johnny Bull, Uncle Sam, as 'Schwein, schwein!' Oh
yes, be was true German to the backbone. Between you and me I'm right
glad that it fell to us to do him up, and that we will all know he got
the reward due his abominable treachery." And Blaine nodded his head
emphatically.
Bangs walked across, eyed the dead Hun a moment, and came back, saying:
"Will your plane carry us -- but pshaw! You're out of gasoline, man!"
"No - we're not. Got a tank half full!"
"Too thin, old man! Why, then did you stop here? You didn't know I
was going to drop down, and you knew Stanley ought to be in the
hospital instead of lying here listening to you and me gabbing this
way."
"Why haven't you got some invention, Buck?" Blaine was grinning as he
rose up to prepare for early departure. "I 'lowed that if Bauer had
enough gasoline to get this far, if his tank wasn't busted, he might
have more. I took what they had and was about to leave when down you
came. Come on -- let's go!"
With great care Stanley was placed as comfortably as possible inside
the biplane, which the two aviators trundled to the edge of the
shell-hole. A moment later, with Bangs giving the plane a downward
push, then leaping lightly up behind Blaine, they easily rose to a
requisite height and glided over the shell-torn plain.
Far away to the east and southeast rumbled the roar of battle, while
with the gray dawn, now mantling into rose pink, then red, and finally
melting into the brightest of gold, at last came the morning's sun,
leaping from its nightly nest and flooding half the world with the
day's celestial glory.
Luckily their plane was not hit or in danger from the occasional shells
that still came screaming over the lines across the scraggy war-torn
land over which they flew. Stanley, though very weak, was still alive.
Loss of blood was the main cause of his weakness. Upon recovering
from his first state of coma, after sustaining his injury, he had borne
the long, wearisome ride, the spatter and peril of conflict without
complaint.
At Appincourte Bluff, where was now a base hospital, he was taken from
the plane and put under adequate medical care. For twenty-four hours
he dozed and slowly strengthened; but when be finally waked again to
life and its daily events, there was Miss Daskam's fair young face at
his bedside. Needless to state that Stanley's recovery was rapid under
these auspices.
Meantime Blaine and Bangs made their further, way in the plane over the
few miles intervening between the hospital and the aerodrome.
Most of the boys were away, scattered along the now advancing front but
by night some of them began to straggle back. Poor Finzer and Brodno
would never come back. That both Lafe and his companion well knew.
But they had died like true men, fighting for the cause they believed
in.
Captain Byers was also at the front, now many miles to the east. But
the veteran Sergeant Anson was on hand and in partial charge. He it
was who brought to the boys some sealed envelopes, saying:
"You chaps have been gone a goodish while. And you've managed to lose
one bully scouting plane. But I guess you've done your bit all right."
"Well, sergeant," remarked Blaine quizzically, "I don't know what you'd
call doing our bit. Buck here has brought down, with my help at times,
several Boche planes. I managed to knock spots out of a troop and
ammunition train or rather two of them. Better than all, we helped
bring down another plane with two Huns in it, one dead, another dying.
Guess who the last one was?"
Anson grinned, frowned, then shook his head.
"Bother the guessin'! I ain't as bally good at that as you Yanks. Was
it any one we knows?"
"You remember Bauer?"
"That rotter what was found guilty of spyin' for the enemy? Yes, I
knew the blighter, the traitor?"
"Well, he's dead. When his plane fell on fire, I had to drop down in a
shell-hole back yonder. Bauer and his pilot had fallen near there just
before. He was cussing us all out, Boche fashion. But it was from
their machine that I got enough petrol to fetch us three safely back.
So you see Bauer was some good after all. Of course he was a traitor
and should have been hung."
"Well, you two haven't done so bad. Before Senator Walsen and his
daughters left they gave me these things for you two, if you had the
luck to get back. And Captain Byers, before going on this raid, left
this permit, together with all necessary papers for you two to go on
leave for ten days."
"That reminds me, said Blaine, fishing in his own pockets. "Here are
some photos, maps and so on that I got from those two dead Germans,
Bauer and his pilot. They may be of service up at headquarters."
And he handed them over, Buck supplementing them with a few he too had
taken on his various ventures within the last day or two.