by E. J. Craine
CHAPTER VIII. A BATTLE IN THE AIR
Strictly speaking there was at that time no American front. That didnot come until later, for the American soldiers, as was proper, werebrigaded with the French and British, to enable our troops, who wereunused to European war conditions, to become acquainted with the needfulmeasures to meet and overcome the brutality of the Huns.
But even with this brigading of the United States' troops with theseasoned veterans, which, in plain language, meant a mingling of thetwo forces, there was much that was strictly American among the newarrivals.
Not only were the khaki-clad soldiers real Americans to the backbone,but their equipment and the supplies that had come over with them in thetransports were such as might be seen at any army camp in this country,as distinguished from a French or a British camp.
"Well, the boys are here all right," remarked Jack, as he and Tom madetheir way toward the headquarters at which they were to report.
"Yes, and it makes me feel good to see them!" said Tom. "This is thebeginning of the end of Kaiserism, if I'm any judge."
"Oh, it isn't going to be so easy as all that," returned Jack. "We'llsee some hard fighting. Germany isn't licked yet by any means; butthose, are the boys that can bring the thing to a finish," and hepointed to a company of the lean, stem, brown figures that were swingingalong with characteristic stride.
The place at which Tom and Jack had been ordered to report was aninterior city of France, not far from the port at which the firsttransport from America had arrived. A first glance at the scenes onevery hand would have given a person not familiar with war a beliefthat hopeless confusion existed. Wagons, carts, mule teams and motortrucks-"lorries," the English call them--were dashing to and fro. Menwere marching, countermarching, unloading some vehicles, loading others.Soldiers were being marched into the interior to be billeted, otherswere being directed to their respective French or English units.Officers were shouting commands, and privates were carrying them out tothe best of their ability.
But though it all seemed chaos, out of it order was coming. There was asystem, though a civilian would not have understood it.
"Well, let's find out where we're at," suggested Torn, to his chum.
"Right O, my pickled grapefruit!" agreed Jack with a laugh. "Let's getinto the game."
They were about to ask their direction from a non-commissioned officerwho was directing a squad of men in the unloading of a truck whichseemed filled with canned goods, when some one said:
"There goes Black Jack now!"
The two air service boys looked, and saw, passing along not far away,a tall man, faultlessly attired, who looked "every inch a soldier," andwhose square jaw was indicative of his fighting qualities, if the restof his face had not been.
"Is that General Pershing?" asked Tom, in a low voice of thenon-commissioned officer.
"That's who he is, buddy," was the smiling answer. "The best man in theworld for the job, too. Come on there now, you with the red hair. Thisisn't a croquet game. Lay into those cases, and get 'em off some timebefore New Year's. We want to have our Christmas dinner in Berlin,remember!"
"So that's Pershing," commented Jack, as he looked at the Americancommander, who, with his staff officers, was on a trip of inspection."Well, he suits me all right!"
"The next thing for us to do is to find out if we suit him," remarkedTom. "Wonder if he knows we're here?"
"I don't even believe he knows we're alive!" exclaimed Jack, for themoment taking Tom's joke quite seriously.
As General Pershing passed on, receiving and returning many salutes, Tomand Jack made their inquiries, learned where they were to report, andwent on their way, longing for the time when they could get into actionwith the American troops.
"Oh, so you're the two aviators from the Lafayette Escadrille,"commented the commanding officer, or the C.O., of the newly formedAmerican squadron, as Tom and Jack, drawing themselves up as straightas they could, saluted when he looked over their papers and their logbooks. These last are the personal records of aviators in which theynote the details of each flight made. They are official documents, butwhen a birdman is honorably discharged he may take his log book withhim.
"We were told to report to you, sir," said Tom.
"Yes. And I'm glad to see you. We're going to establish a purelyAmerican air force, but as yet it is in its infancy. I need someexperienced fliers, and I'm glad you're going to be with us. Of courseI have a number who have made good records over there," and he nodded toindicate the United States, "But they haven't been under fire yet, and Iunderstand you have."
"Some," admitted Jack, modestly enough.
"Good! Well, I'm to have some more of our own boys, who are to betransferred from the French forces, and some from the Royal FlyingCorps, so with that as a start I guess we can build up an air servicethat will make Fritz step lively. But we've got to go slow. One thingI'm sorry for is that we haven't, as yet, any American planes. We'llhave to depend on the French and English for them, as we have to, atfirst, for our artillery and shells."
"We can fly French or British planes," remarked Tom.
And, as my old readers know, the air service boys had had experiencewith a number of different models.
"We can fly a Gotha if we have to," said Jack. "One came down back ofour lines last month, and we patched it up and flew it for practice."
"I hope you can get some more of that practice," said the commandingofficer with a smile.
"But, now that you're here, I'll swear you in and see what the ordersare regarding you. I'm afraid there won't be much fighting for you atfirst--that is strictly as Americans. I understand our air front, ifI may use that term, will have to grow out of a nucleus of French andEnglish fighters."
"That's all right, as long as we get the right start," commented Tom.
It was necessary to swear the boys into the service of the UnitedStates, even though they were natives of it; since, on entering theLafayette Escadrille, they had been obliged to swear allegianceto France. But this was a matter of routine where the Allies wereconcerned, and soon Tom and Jack were back again where they longed tobe--enrolled among the distinctive fighters of their own country.
They were assigned to barracks, and found themselves among some otherairmen, many of whom were student fliers from the various aviation campsof the United States. Few of these youths had had much practice, thoughsome had been to the Canadian schools. And none of them had, as yet,fought an enemy in the air.
To aid and instruct them, however, were such fighters as Tom and Jack,and some even more experienced from the French, Italian and Britishcamps, who had been detailed to help out the United States in theemergency.
The next few weeks was an instruction and reconstruction period, withTom and Jack often filling the roles of teachers. They found theirpupils apt, eager and willing, however, and among them they discoveredsome excellent material. As the commanding officer of the new Americanair forces had said, the planes used were all of English or French make.It was too early in the war for America to have sent any over equippedwith the Liberty motor, though production was under way.
After this period had passed, Tom and Jack, with a squadron of otherbirdmen were sent to a certain section of the front held largely byAmerican troops, supported by veteran French and British regiments.
It was the first wholly American aircraft camp established since thebeginning of the World War, and it was not even yet as wholly Americanas it was destined to be later, for the aviators were, as regardsveterans, largely French and English. Torn and Jack were, in point ofservice, the ranking American fliers for a time.
There had been several sharp engagements across No Man's Land betweenthe mingled French, British and French forces and the Huns, and honorswere on the side of the former. There had been one or two combats in theair, in which Tom and Jack had taken part, when one day word came froman observation balloon on the American side that a flock of Germanaircraft was on the way from a camp located a few miles with
in the Bochelines.
There was a harried consultation of the officers, and then orders weregiven for a half score of the Allied machines to get ready. Two veteranFrench aces were to be in command, with Tom and Jack as helpers, andsome of the American aviators were to go into the battle of the air forthe first time.
"The Huns are evidently going to try to bomb some of our ammunitiondumps behind our lines,"' said one officer, speaking to Tom. "It's up toyou boys to drive 'em back."
"We'll try, sir," was the answer. "We owe the Huns something we haven'tbeen able to pay off as yet."
Tom referred to the loss of Harry Leroy. So far no word had beenreceived from him, either directly or through the German aviators, as towhether he was dead or a prisoner. Letters had passed between Bessie andNellie and Jack and Tom, and the sister of the missing youth begged fornews.
But there was none to give her.
"Unless we get some to-day," observed Tom as he and his chum hurriedtoward the hangars where their machines were being made ready for them.
"Get news to-day? What makes you think we shall?" asked Jack.
"Well, we might bring down a Fritzie or two who'd know something aboutpoor Harry," was the answer. "You never can tell."
"No, that's so," agreed Jack. "Well, here's hoping we'll have luck."
By this time there was great excitement in the American aviationheadquarters. Word of the oncoming Hun planes had spread, and not aflier of Pershing's forces but was eager to get into his plane and goaloft to give battle. But only the best were selected, and if there wereheart-burnings of disappointment it could not be helped.
Two classes of planes were to be used, the single seaters for the aces,who fought alone, and the double craft, each one of which carried apilot and an observer. In the latter cases the observers were the newmen, who had yet to receive their baptism of fire above the clouds.
Tom and Jack were each detailed to take up one of the new men, and theair service boys were glad to find that, assigned to each of them,was the very man he would have picked had he had his choice. They wereeager, intrepid lads, anxious to do their share in the great adventure.
Quickly the machines were made ready, and quickly the fighters climbedinto them. The roar of the motors was heard all over the aerodrome, andsoon the machines began to mount. Up and up they climbed, and none toosoon, for on reaching elevations averaging ten thousand feet, there wasseen, over the German lines, a flock of the Hun planes led by two orthree machines painted a bright red. These were some of the machinesthat had belonged to the celebrated "flying circus," organized by adaring Hun aviator and ace who was killed after he had inflicted greatdamage and loss on the Allied service. He and his men had their machinespainted red, perhaps on the theory that they would thus inspire terror.These were some of the former members of the "circus," it was evident.
"It's going to be a real fight!" cried Tom, as he headed his machinetoward one of the red craft. Whether the green man Tom was taking uprelished this or not, knowing, as he must, the reputation of these redaviators, Tom did not stop to consider.
Then, as the two hostile air fleets approached, there began a battleof the clouds--a conflict destined to end fatally for more than oneaviator.