AT THE FRENCH FLYING SCHOOL
At last the two air service boys were lodged in a city within
connecting distance of the great aviation field at Pau, where some of
the most successful among French and American air pilots have received
their instruction in the art of flying.
Both Tom and Jack were soon at home in the camp. As they possessed some
knowledge of French, and were studying diligently to acquire a wider
acquaintance with the language, they found it possible to understand
most of what was said to them, and also make some sort of reply.
They were deeply impressed with what they saw during that first day
at Pau. Permanent sheds had been erected in place of the former
canvas hangers; and German prisoners of war had been used to build a
narrow-gauge railway running from the camp to the town.
This allowed the students a chance to live at a distance and still
continue their daily work at the aviation school. The best of
instructors were found there, men who had made their names famous in
their work.
Tom was, of course, in his element, and, quiet, studious and
industrious, he soon became a favorite with his instructors, who were
quick to recognize that his former American instructor had said truly
when he pronounced the youth a natural-born aviator.
Only those with previous experience were allowed in the sector to which
the chums were assigned. Novices had other places, where their first
blundering work might not act as a menace to those who were near the
end of their work in the school.
The various types of French machines interested Tom in particular,
from the start, for they differed vastly from anything he had as yet
handled. The little Nieuport especially held his attention, for he knew
very well that that was the airplane in general use on the French front
for fighting. It is capable of making the most extraordinary speed,
and can, moreover, be manipulated by an expert with the ease that
an accomplished horseman on the plains handles his broncho, and can
perform the most amazing feats in the air that any one can imagine.
Tom fondled the first Nieuport he came across lovingly, and imagined
himself mounted in the seat, flying above the hostile lines, daring a
German airman to ascend and meet him in a duel to the death thousands
of feet above the earth.
But just as he anticipated, Tom had to start at the bottom of the
ladder again, and undo much that he had already learned. As for
Jack, he began to despair of ever being able to master the intricate
education that every French air pilot must pass through before he is
allowed to go to the front.
Each one entering the school is placed where it is believed he will do
the most effective work. One applicant may be better qualified to man a
bombing plane than for the more dangerous calling of a fighting unit,
where great dexterity and lightning-like quickness in making a decision
mean everything.
The bombing planes are much larger and slower, for, as a rule, when
going out on a long trip to damage the enemy’s lines of communication
these are fully protected by guards in the shape of Nieuport pilots,
who will defend them against the enemy airmen, if such should rise to
waylay them.
Tom went forward with astonishing rapidity. Day after day he was in
the air, and his instructor took the greatest interest in his rapid
progress, for he felt he had what he called a “prodigy” on his hands.
He realized that unless some unfortunate accident cut Tom’s career
short, the Lafayette Escadrille would soon receive another recruit
whose record in time might equal that of any of its most shining
lights, some of whom had already given their lives to the service of
France.
The youths found that making successful landings was a very important
factor in the education of an aviator, and had often to be attempted
under difficult conditions. Clumsiness at this has played havoc with
many a bright pupil’s hopes, and even taken lives as its toll.
From one class Tom passed into another. Jack strove earnestly to keep
abreast of his more accomplished chum, and was doing very well, but
still fell far behind Tom’s record. Indeed, the marvelous manner in
which Tom Raymond climbed the ladder made him the talk of the camp.
The Americans there were proud of Tom. They believed that, given time,
he was fated to become one of their best and most famous flyers; and
none of them, placing the service far ahead of his own personal hopes,
showed the least jealousy because of his rapid promotion.
Various types of machines were given to Tom to handle, and he seemed
to be perfectly at home with them all. It was “born in him,” as his
genial instructor explained it, and everybody agreed that he was a
wonder.
Eventually he was allowed to mount to a very high altitude, further
than he had ever gone before, so that the snow-capped Pyrenees seemed
on a level with his machine.
His first trial at such a high altitude flight was exciting enough,
though its successful accomplishment soon made it an easy task. In the
little Nieuport he mounted to the great height. Then the machine was
made to dive rapidly for a short distance, after which Tom gave a sharp
pull on the controls, forcing the machine to climb suddenly, at the
same time shutting off the motor.
When the little plane lost its speed, it fell over backwards. Just at
the proper second, when the machine had reached the line of diving, Tom
turned on the spark and once more resumed his flight, to repeat the
experiment again and again until it became an old story with him.
Jack wondered how successful he would be when the time came for him to
try this necessary evolution, which some day when in action and wishing
to escape from an enemy might be the means of saving his life.
Tom was next put to work on other even more dangerous tactics, all of
which have to be learned at the French aviation schools. Finally, when
the pilot is deemed properly qualified, he may be sent to the fighting
front, there to take his place with the veterans in the art, who have
perhaps won their right to be called “ace,” because they have already
brought down at least five enemy machines, and can prove each and every
encounter.
“Corkscrew looping” was not so very difficult for Tom, although
generally considered so by most aspirants for honors.
Only the very best pupils are considered fit subjects for the most
advanced course, known as the “vrille,” but so ambitious a student as
Tom Raymond would not be satisfied without attempting it.
This manoeuvre consists in a series of spiral movements constituting
a rapid descent. The plane is tipped at an acute angle, and set to
spinning on one wing. An accomplished aviator will take as many as
eight of these speedy spirals, one after the other, and thus fall a
distance of some five thousand feet, when he can suddenly recover, and
fly away in safety from the flock of enemy machines by which he had
been suddenly beset high in the air.
It is a manoeuvre full of danger to the novice, and a number of
ambitious aviators have lost their lives in trying to accomplish it.
Tom was one of those who mastered the feat, just as his far-seeing
instructor believed he would be. Before he left the school at Pau he
was able to do the “vrille” wonderfully well, and thus became an object
of admiration and envy to the American colony of intending fliers.
One day there unexpectedly turned up there an old friend from the other
side of the Atlantic--no other than Dawes, whom they had left working
steadily away at the Government aviation school in Virginia. The boys
were delighted to see him again, and during the remainder of their stay
at Pau the trio were much in one another’s company.
Jack continued to make steady progress, although it was evident that he
would never be in the same class as his more brilliant chum. Finally
their eagerness to get nearer the front was rewarded, for they received
permission to go to another aviation field.
This was also in southern France, at Casso, on the shores of a long
lake less than an hour from Bordeaux. Here the Flying Corps has a range
of its own, with a number of captive balloons and a series of moving
targets out on the lake.
The pupil is taken up in a double-seated plane, and operates the
quick-firing gun or, as the French call it, a “mitrailleuse.” At first
it is exceedingly difficult to shoot down from a rapidly moving
plane, but after considerable practice the eye becomes educated to the
changing perspective, when the airman finds it as easy to register hits
as though he were upon the solid earth.
Finally came the day when the two young Americans, having completed
their schooling, were allowed to offer their services at the front to
fill the sadly depleted ranks of the foreign Flying Corps. They left
the training camps, and took train for the region where the German
invading host was being held at bay by the allied armies.
“Now, I guess we’ll see service before long, Tom!” cried Jack eagerly.
“I shouldn’t wonder but what you are right,” was the reply.