WITH THE LAFAYETTE ESCADRILLE
“At last, Jack!”
With what gratification did Tom Raymond utter those words. The one
dream of months past was about to be turned into reality. He was on the
point of being received into the famous Lafayette Escadrille of fliers,
composed of gallant young Americans who had volunteered to serve France
in the name of liberty and democracy.
“It doesn’t seem possible that we’re looking on the camp of all those
brilliant birdmen whose names have been in the dispatches from the
fighting front these many months!” Jack murmured, half to himself,
as he stared at the villa in which the Americans had taken up their
quarters, and where they lived when not on duty.
“Let’s move on, and introduce ourselves,” suggested Tom.
They were naturally a little worried as to what their reception would
be. They found however, that word had been sent to the head quarters
of the escadrille concerning them, and Tom had been mentioned as a very
promising pupil, whose astonishing ability in the pursuit he had taken
up had pleased his French instructors at Pau.
So they were given a hearty greeting, truly American and democratic in
every way.
As a rule the escadrille was supposed to number a round dozen members,
though not always full, for significant reasons. Now it might be one of
the aviators was taken sick after unusual exposure at a great height,
where the cold was intense, and his place must remain empty for a while.
Then again, accidents were frequent, owing to the desperate chances
taken when fighting the Boche fliers. Every man among them knew what it
was to be wounded by a flying missile from a machine-gun; or possibly
through being struck by shrapnel.
Last of all there came times when a vacancy occurred in the ranks,
owing to one of the corps meeting the fate which they faced almost
every day of their lives.
Neither of the two young fellows would ever forget that first dinner
with the famous fliers of the escadrille, and the merry time they had
afterwards. The conversation was of a diversified description. Indeed,
almost every subject was talked about save the one which must have
lain closest to each heart there, that of dying.
That night Tom and Jack heard many thrilling deeds mentioned by one or
another of those present. It was always some one else who had performed
these, Tom noticed, and he admired the modesty that forbade any of them
mentioning similar actions in which they themselves had borne a leading
part.
One French pilot in connection with a bombing escadrille, where they
use much heavier and more clumsy machines than the fighting Nieuports,
was returning with comrades from a long flight into the enemy’s
country, when they were suddenly attacked by a number of German
fighting planes.
What is known as an “incendiary” bullet pierced the gasolene reservoir
of this particular pilot, and ignited the contents. The pilot instantly
realized that he was doomed beyond any hope, and determined not to die
alone, he turned his machine sharply about and dashed headlong straight
for one of his pursuers.
Vainly did the German endeavor to avoid the contact. There was a
sickening crash, and both machines, as well as the pilots, fell half a
mile to the earth.
Another story that was told in a matter-of-fact way as though it might
be only an account of a daily occurrence, was of a pilot who chanced
to find himself far over the enemy’s country, and flying parallel with
an important line of railroad.
As he continued on he overtook a crowded troop train going in the same
general direction. Inspired by a spirit of mad adventure, and believing
he had run across a splendid opportunity to strike a blow for his
country, this French pilot darted low down, and commenced raking the
train with his machine-gun until he had utterly exhausted the magazine.
Then, not yet satisfied, he caught up with the madly running engine,
and shot both the driver and his firing assistant, using his revolver
for this purpose. Just beyond there was a sharp turn, and the wildly
running train, with no hand at the throttle of the engine, took this
at full speed. It left the rails, and plunged into a ravine, where the
cars were piled up in a heap, and hundreds of the troops killed.
Tom and Jack had a room given to them. It chanced to be empty just
then, because of a sad tragedy that had taken place not long before
their arrival, in which one of the brightest lights in the escadrille
had gone out forever.
As both youths were very tired they slept well, though now and then a
heavy burst of gunfire from a point not far removed aroused them from
their slumber. In time however they would become so accustomed to such
things as to pay little attention to them. Those who live for days and
weeks and months in almost constant contact with fighting armies by
degrees get accustomed to almost any sort of noise.
Then came the morning that would ever be marked with a white stone in
their memories. After breakfast, with some of the pilots, Tom and Jack
prepared to witness the bustling scenes almost hourly taking place at
the camp of the escadrille where the hangars were situated, and where
most of the mechanicians and other workers are quartered, so they can
look after the numerous machines.
The boys already knew that the pilots were not expected to do anything
in connection with their machines save fly in them and fight, thus
carrying out their perilous air service. They are the drivers, and
there is a host of workers and mechanicians on hand ready to run the
planes back into their hangars after the pilots have alighted, and to
see that the machines are properly cleaned and have a full supply of
petrol and oil; in fact do everything necessary to put them in first
class condition for work.
Already several planes were in the air, bent on various missions. Here
one had ventured over the enemy lines, and was circling high up,
daring a Boche pilot to ascend and give battle. Another was striving to
get above several sausage observation balloons that were rising back of
the German lines, hoping to be able to drop a bomb with telling effect
on one of the group.
These things always bring about fierce fighting in the air, and hardly
a day passes without a number of machines on either side being shot
down, the fate of their human occupants sometimes never wholly known.
Tom had not forgotten one thing. In his pocket he was carrying a
letter from his American instructor, Lieutenant Carson, to his younger
brother, who was flying for France in some capacity. He learned however
that Philip Carson was not just then connected with the Lafayette
Escadrille, though he was known to most of those who formed that corps.
Some time later on perhaps Tom might chance to run across Carson, for
somehow Americans seemed to have a way of finding one another over
there in France. Perhaps they were drawn together by a desire to chat
in their own tongue; for but few of them could be said to be really
proficient in the French language.
A score of things interested the boys from the start. As they as yet
had no planes of their own they were privileged to roam about, and
make numerous delightful discoveries. Later on they would be sent up
with one of the other pilots, perhaps to take photographs of the enemy
country back of the lines.
For this purpose a heavier machine than the Nieuport was always used,
which went by the name of Caudron. This plane, being a two-seater, was
frequently utilized to carry a spy far back of the German lines, where
he could be dropped, to be called for at a specified time later on,
after he had collected his information.
When one of these heavy planes went out on a reconnaissance it was
equipped with a complete though small wireless outfit. Besides this Tom
found--something that for some reason he had not before known--that a
number of homing pigeons would be taken along, these to be released one
by one as the pilot picked up news that he considered worth sending
back in haste to the camp. Thus it might reach General Headquarters,
and possibly prove of vast value in warding off a threatened attack.
Jack was most interested in the bombarding machines. These were of a
peculiar build, and so fitted that they could take up a certain number
of highly destructive bombs, carried underneath, where at the proper
time each in turn could be detached, to fall through space and do its
appointed work.
He asked many questions of the grizzled sergeant whose acquaintance he
made, and learned the method by which the raids were conducted on enemy
munition dumps and concentration camps far back of the fighting front;
or it might be, how a plan was carried out by means of which a deadly
blow was struck at some fortified city hundreds of miles back in the
Rhine country.
Tom was interested in the fighting planes. He noted the grimlooking
little rapid-fire guns which they mounted, and touched the various
parts with an almost reverent air. In truth the dream of his life was
now close to being realized, and Tom was happy.
That particular day gave them their first view of battles in the air,
and for that reason if no other, would never be forgotten.