Books: Our Pilots in the Air
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Captain William B. Perry >> Our Pilots in the Air
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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.
CHAPTER V
THE PRACTICE DRILL
About the time that Corporal Orris Erwin was able to take his place
again as a fighting aviator, Sergeant Blaine, returning from a long
scouting raid over in the enemy's territory, met the boy in the broad
drive of the aerodrome looking about him rather strangely. He threw an
arm over Orry's shoulder, and drew him along to the door of the Aero
Club.
"Been in here?" he asked. "It is great! They asking 'bout you the day
we left. Heard about Cheval?"
Orris, not feeling like talking, shook his head, vouchsafing:
"Nothing only that he went along with your squadron at the last
minute."
"Poor chap! He won't raid with us again. He went down near Essen.
There was where we were to unload most of our bombs. But Archie got
him. Down he went -" Blaine's eyes grew moist at the memory.
Erwin understood. "Nothing more?" he ventured.
"Nary thing, except that we gave the Krupp works hell for about fifteen
or twenty minutes. You should have seen the explosions."
"That part was good. Say, Blaine," Orris, was looking, thoughtful,
"has it ever struck you how terribly uncertain a thing life is --"
"Oh, rats!" Blaine shook his smaller companion as they neared the club
door. "Stow that sort of talk and thought! Don't do you a bit of good
or those that hear you. See?"
"Still, since my last flight with you, these thing will run across my
mind. What is up now ? You in on anything yet?"
"I've heard -- but don't whisper a word -- that we're on for a job of
sausage driving next. Nothing sure, though."
Sausages is the slang term for gas observation balloons which go up at
certain points and observe the enemy's positions or maneuvers before
and during battle on the earth below. Sausages do not fight back much
but are protected by support battle planes and in other ways.
Reaching the clubroom door, they entered, Blaine pushing his comrade
forward and saying with mock politeness:
"Let me present my comrade Erwin, or Orry, I like to call him. While
doing the Boches the other day at Appincourte Bluff, the Boches came
mighty nigh doing him. But here he is, what's left of him. Jolly him
a bit. He feels bad!" The last tweak in allusion to Orry's remark on
the uncertainty of life.
'There were a dozen or more of the air lads in the room and cigarette
smoke tinged the air. Towards Erwin, now recovered after nearly a
three week's "lay-off" on account of his burns and other wounds, there
was a general rush of friendly hands and voices.
"Oh, you bully l'ill boy! If I hadn't been kept so busy would have
gone round to jolly you up a bit. But I kept hearin' from you all the
same."
This from Milton, or "Milt" Finzer, a Louisville lad, now in the Royal
Flying Corps for more than a year. "Don't it seem wallopin' to see you
in the clubroom again!"
"Orry, you stale mutt," this from an Americanized Pole, without a trace
of foreign accent, "I'm too glad to see you to talk much about it.
When we bombers got back from the raid that night and neither you nor
Lafe had showed up, I felt bad enough. Later when Lafe came in with a
German plane and a half dead Boche inside, we felt better. But we
missed you, Orry."
"Did you really and truly miss me?" Erwin asked, this not in a spirit
of doubt or incredulity, but only to hear his friend reemphasize it.
One likes at times to have welcome truisms reechoed over again. It is
human nature I suppose.
"Look here, Lex Brodno, you're a Pole --"
"Don't spring that on me again, even in joke I am an American, it my
folks did come over from Warsaw."
"Bully! We're all one over here. That's the way to talk!" Erwin was
getting back his old-time spirits. "All one in the good old U.S. All
one over here -- eh? Oh, you sinner!" The two walked over to a table,
interrupted at every turn by those who wanted to welcome Orry back to
the club again.
The following morning Erwin resumed his daily stunt of practice, but
was heightened mightily in spirit by noticing in the hangar where he
had usually gotten his machines a bright new scouting plane, small,
with a tail like a dolphin's, an up-to-date machine gun mounted along
the top, just where the one pilot at the wheel could handily squint
through the sights.
"Why, it's British -- one of their latest makes," informed Erwin, much
pleased. "It's -- let's see." He was squinting at the monogram.
"B-X-3. No. 48."
Just then Blaine and Finzer strolled up.
"Going out for a little spin, Orry?" queried Blaine, throwing open
wider the hangar door. "Look at 'em! Ain't they beauts?"
There was a row of eight of these snug-built machines, all the same
type and monogram, all with machine guns strapped solidly to the
fuselage of each, and with motors of great power and pliability.
"You can do anything with these chaps," remarked Milt, "except fly to
the moon. But these motors would take you a long way. As for stunts
like diving, circling, dipping, playing dead and the like, you never
saw the like. I only hope we go out soon. I learn there's a new raid
on the taps."
Blaine was nosing about one of the machines that was like the others,
only a trifle larger and had an observer's seat behind the pilot's.
"That's your, Sergeant?" queried Erwin, slightly emphasizing the last
word.
"Bet your bottee wootees, Corporal!" Another slight emphasis on the
last word. "As for yours, take your pick. They're all exactly alike.
We must go into preliminary practice today."
For an answer Erwin mechanically rolled out the machine he had first
examined, and prepared for a short flight.
"After all, all, these are much like the planes we used at Vimy last
year."
"Some improvements and stronger motors added thought," said Blaine.
"Going to give it a try-out?"
"Yep! Thought I'd like to get my hand in a bit before we go out in
squad formation." He nimbly vaulted into his seat over the rim of the
fuselage, or the body of the machine, as two mechanics pushed forward
behind the wings.
An upward flip and the alert planes rose gently into the air, and Erwin
was off. His head was cool, his brain active, and more than all his
hands were steady.
About this time Finzer had rolled out another plane and almost
immediately rose behind Orris.
The two were at once climbing high, higher, until at an elevation of
two to three thousand feet they began to circle, climb and dip in a way
that reminded one of two high-flying birds playing at tag far up in the
blue expanse of sky above.
Then Erwin's machine did a flip, bringing it above the other machine
and "onto its tail," the favorable position for aerial attack.
Suddenly Finzer turned his nose earthward and began a whirling dive.
Erwin followed; the other coming at once into horizontal poise, turned
his nose towards Erwin -- the perfect position for pouring a rain of
shot as the other passed.
Of course all this was mere practice, the full handed exercise of the
fighting aviator, through which he keeps brain, eye and hand in trim
against the perilous, heroic few seconds when he must fight to save his
life and machine.
Meantime Blaine, along with Brodno, the Americanized Pole, and one or
two others, strolled about, lazily watching the maneuvers above, and
telling stories more or less related to their and fighting experiences
flying.
Presently down came the two fliers, each with heightened color and full
of that fresh buoyancy which short, lively flights are apt to create.
Both were flippantly arguing as to which one had got the best of the
other.
"I own up that I am a little bit stale, Milt. But you wait until we go
out for squadron practice. I'll show you!"
"Yes, you will," replied Finzer, good-naturedly caustic. "Perhaps I'll
show you another trick or two then."
And so the chaffing went on as the lads adjourned to the eating-house
for lunch.
This meal over, a bugle sounded from the parade ground near the grove
of trees. It was the general summons for squadron practice. As the
boys filed out, each in full flying rig, they saw Commander Byers on
the field, watching the mechanics roll out the machines. There were a
dozen or more of the fighting planes, like those which Erwin and Finzer
had used for morning practice. In the east, from over a monotonous
expanse of scarred and war-torn country, came the sullen roar of
artillery at the front, a stern reminder that real war was close at
hand.
Each aviator at once mounted his own machine, Blaine as squad
sergeant in the one he had indicated to Erwin earlier in the day.
Erwin took his, while Finzer, Brodno, and a real American lad from
Butte, Montana, were assigned to others of these fast, nimble, scouting
planes that are really the wasps of the air, carrying their sting with
them, always ready and willing to bite.
Meanwhile at each machine two mechanics, under the eye of the airman,
went carefully over the mechanism until all were satisfied. Up they
went, singly or in pairs, gyrating playfully, always climbing, and
swooping higher, higher, until to the naked eye they became mere dots
in the clear sky.
By this time it was noticeable that they had somehow divided into two
squads or escadrilles; and at a signal from Commander Byers down below
they began maneuvering like two hostile squadrons about to engage in
aerial battle. Thereupon ensued a display of battle tactics that would
have been bewildering to an unaccustomed spectator.
These vicious little fighting planes reminded one more of air insects
than of birds. In their forward rushes many of them were doing more
than two miles a minute.
"Watch out!" said the Commander, his glass at his eyes. "The Sergeant
is going to loop."
True enough, Blaine's machine took a nose flip. He was riding upside
down. Then he was level again. The rest of his squad followed suit,
then followed their leader at a daring angle, all of them straight and
level again. The first plane in the other line, driven by Erwin, began
to loop the loop sidewise, rolling over and over, not unlike a horse
rolls over when turned out to grass. The others behind him began much
the same tactics while the first line drew away as if preparing for
counter moves.
Beyond, in the further sky, two opposing machines having detached
themselves from the rest were playing with each other like kittens with
wings. One was making rapid evolutions, the other following, and
clinging to the set course in a series of whirls with its own wing-tip
as a pivot.
Below, the comments went on from the staff surrounding the Commander,
who would say now and then:
"Look you there! Was that not fine?"
"Hard to beat," seemed to be the general verdict. "Fritz will have to
open his eyes tomorrow."
And so the show above went on. A flock of little birds chirped and
flopped past the group below. What pikers they seemed by comparison,
with the show going on above -- far above! And now they were
descending in long spirals, each squad by itself, yet preserving the
mathematical distance required, both from the opposing squad and at the
same time keeping the line prescribed for such tactics during drills at
the home grounds.
Particularly did Blaine distinguish himself in the daring of his
stunts. Erwin was hardly behind him. They looped again, they rolled,
they did the wing and tail slides, doing the last until they fell
almost perpendicularly a thousand feet. Finally they righted hardly
two hundred feet above the earth; then shot upward again at almost
incredible speed.
And now the two leaders circled slowly as their respective squads
followed on towards the ground, some falling, drifting like dead
leaves, others slanting lazily as they passed the leaders, and on down,
alighting at last each in his appointed place or thereabouts.
And then the two leaders began circling and swooping more and more
rapidly until those below felt the whirring rush of air as the two
planes swept by so low that one imagined that an arm would nearly touch
them.
All hands knew it was rivalry -- the rivalry of stunts. Yet to stand
below and watch those steel engines falling down on you from the skies
took the same kind of nerve to keep from dodging as only airmen
themselves are gifted with by practice.
Finally all this drew to a close. The machines at last ranged
themselves at opposite extremes of the landing stage and with a final
swoop both were apparently upon the spectators as with the rush of a
whirlwind. Yet, dizzy as it looked, it was mathematically timed. The
two planes flattened as if by magic; they rose, dipped again and,
passing each other in the down grade, saluted methodically as they
passed the Commander. Ten seconds later their wheels dropped gently on
the gravel at either end of the parade ground two tired looking
aviators left their the waiting mechanics and walked soberly to the
others.
The stunts were over for the day.
CHAPTER VI
CATCHING THB SPY
"Well, well, Orry! How do you feel after your stunts of yesterday?"
This from Sergeant Blaine as he jumped from his bunk in the aerodrome
dormitory the following morning just as the dawn was breaking.
Erwin, still drowsing, opened one eye. The next instant, remembering
what the day probably hold in store for him, he threw off the covers
and leapt from his bunk. At the same time, in order impress Blaine
with his general fitness, he hit the big Sergeant a mock blow on the
midwind region where, according to ring history, Fitzsimons dropped
Corbett in their historic championship fight. Then he sprang back,
arms and fists feinting.
"Can't you see how I feel?" he retorted. "Want to try me more?"
"Nit, you shyster, nit!" Blaine was laughing as he recovered,
retreating and grimacing, as if in mock misery. "I don't want no more
solar plexus stuff at this stage of the game. I guess you're all
right."
"Bet your thick cocoanut I am! I was a bit drowsy at first. Say,
Lafe, you know I must be in on this, whatever it is."
"Sure! I was at first a bit afraid that all those air stunts might
have frazzled you a little, seeing you are just out of hospital."
"Honest Injun, Lafe, I'm all right! Don't you forget to remember that!"
"Well, then, get your clothes on. I want to talk to you private like."
And Blaine sauntered off, lighting, a cigarette, while Erwin hastily
put on his clothes. Going out soon, he encountered Blaine on the
parade before the hangars where the starting of planes usually began.
It promised to be a lovely day. Not a cloud was in the sky. Off to
the east a lone airplane was, soaring high over No-Man Is-Land,
doubtless one of the night scouts that are maintained along that
portion of the front.
Said Lafe:
"Last night after the rest of you had gone to the clubroom, Byers sent
for me and told me briefly what he wanted us to attempt today. You
know those sausages the Boches got now, over back of that bluff you
unearthed the day you came home after our last raid?"
"Appincourte?" Orris blinked and nodded. "I ought to remember."
"Well, the French have tried a time or two to get them, but the Boche
planes have been too much for them so far. Kept them so busy fighting
back, they had no time to do much bombing. And now word has come from
headquarters that they must go. Must! See?"
Erwin nodded. He took a deep breath, feeling already the lift in the
pure morning air. Blaine continued:
"Well, Anson was to have headed this raid, but he's been promoted also.
He's an ensign now. I am in his place and they made you corporal
under me for two reasons. One was on account of the stunts you did
along with me; then for what you did after you went on your own hook
and busted into that Boche communicating trench which made them try to
Archie you and thus exposed to us what they had done in making
themselves at home under Appincourte Bluff."
"Yes, yes! Come to the point, Lafe! What is it you and I have got to
do today, or whenever it comes off?"
"Don't be so impatient. The second reason is because they now think
you have nerve enough for most anything, and that we two, working
together might succeed in puffing off this sausage business best in our
own way."
"You mean we are to bomb them where and when we please?"
"No -- of course not! But Byers, who is the real head here, thinks you
and I, taking as many other chaps along as we please, can force our way
in our fighting planes to where these pesky gas keep hanging and spying
on us, and literally blow them to dashed smithereens. See?"
"But how? Their Archies will blow us to Hades and be gone before we
reach anywhere near. It looks like a forlorn hope --"
Blaine smiled, as he interrupted with:
'Like Balaklava, eh? Or old Pickett's third day charge at Gettysburg?"
Erwin did not reply. Blaine continued:
"If we go strong enough and swift and low enough, we'll got there; and,
once there we'll do the bombing all righty!"
"And in broad daylight, too?"
"I don't say that, Orry. All this is strictly between you and me.
Byers rather favors a daylight raid as affording a better chance to
regain our own lines, either after bombing or in case we fail. But
we're not going to fail . These dratted sausages have got to come down!"
"Are you sure they stay up at night?"
"Ever since we busted up that bluff you exposed, there they stay day
and night, half a dozen or more. And my own notion is that if we have a
new offensive here, which I think looks likely to a man up a tree,
those blamed sausages will give the Boches too much leeway in nosing
out ahead what we might be trying to do in getting ready."
"Well, what else? Will Captain Byers leave it to you? "
"I think he will . Having tried every other way and failed, he will let
us -- you and me in private but me in public, decide upon the way we'd
prefer. Both of us have been over the ground. We know how far we have
to go. I also know about what the Boches have got behind those
balloons. It was only a few miles from there that we -- you and me --
got that Taube and the German aviator. Believe me, unless things have
changed mightily, there isn't much there in the way of reinforcements
or more planes or anything."
"You've been back there since?"
"You bet! Finzer and I went over there the day before you left the
hospital. The Boches have no notion that our side is doing anything
here, except air-raiding in No-Man's-Land or using our planes. That is
one reason the headquarters thinks that it is a good place to -- to do
something."
"Well Lafe," Orris spoke deliberately, "you know I am with you. Tell
me as much or as little as you please. I'll follow you to the last
notch."
"I knew it!" Blaine grasped his comrade's hand and nearly wrung the
fingers off. "Well, keep mum! Don't say anything to anybody but me.
If Byers says anything, give him to understand you are in it from the
word go, but no more. We'll win out again. Hear me?"
For reply, Erwin shook his released fingers, regarded Blaine with mock
reproach, and volunteered:
"I'll agree to everything after that grip, I'm with you to the death.
But don't do that again."
Blaine laughed gleefully as he turned away, patting Orris on the
shoulder approvingly.
"I always thought you were a sticker, Orry."
"That's better 'n being a slicker or a slacker, isn't it?"
Again the big fellow laughed as he hurried off towards the Captain's
quarters at the far end of the grounds.
The day passed quietly. From time to time, Blaine held private
conferences with various members of the flying squad. These were
mostly Americans who had either served a year or two at the western
front, or were more recent arrival who had joined because of special
aptitude for flying.
During the day sundry scouts penetrated here and there over the enemy
lines and their report were favorable for the plan Blaine had in mind.
A risky plan, yet promising well if skillfully carried out.
Towards night he had a last conference with Byers, who had more than
hesitated over the proposed program, yet gave in before the Sergeant's
enthusiasms.
"I agree," said the commander. "But it is risky. It can be done. Yet
whether you are the man to do it -- well, we'll know in the morning.
Do your best. Be prudent; not too prudent; but at the same time try to
be wise to things as they come up. Remember I have more
responsibility than you. Your responsibility is only to me. It ceases
where mine begins."
"Don't fear, Captain. Let what Erwin and I did the other night be duly
considered. I need your full support --"
"Young man, you have it!" Here Byers took Blaine's hand and shook it
heartily. "Bring back as many of your squad as you can, but above all
carry out your program."
Night came, and with it a comfortable fog that rose white and misty,
good for the purpose in hand. The clocks were pointing towards seven
when something like a dozen men, wearing the regulation uniform,
gathered at the usual open space, while from the doors of several
hangars mechanics were silently rolling out machines.
Each aviator gave a few comprehensive looks and touches to his own
plane, just to reassure himself that things were all right. Then came
a brief moment or two of silent waiting. There were no, spectators.
Even the rest of the men at the aerodrome did not appear. This was
according to orders.
Out in front stood Captain Byers, attended by Blaine and Erwin, talking
in low, indistinct tones. Finally Byers looked at his watch.
"Time's up, I guess. Do your best, you two. You, Blaine, will veer to
the right as you approach the enemy trenches. You, sir," to Orris,
"will draw to the left. Your squads will follow their respective
leaders. Should you meet opposition before you reach the balloons,
don't flinch. Pour on more speed. Don't signal unless necessary but
obey signals when given. Au revoir, lads! Don't come back until you
have delivered the goods."
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