CHAPTER VIII
THRILLS OF THE UPPER REACHES
To the great delight of the Brighton boys, Will Corwin paid a visit tothem one evening, and stayed to dinner at their mess. Will was notmuch older than his brother Harry, so far as years went, but he lookedten years older. The constant work on the French front had bronzedhim and made him leaner and harder than when he left his home in America.
He had many questions to ask the boys about the home folks, and saidthat he had been trying to get a chance to visit Harry for weeks.Will was particularly interested to hear what had been the experiencesof the Brighton fliers in connection with their first real work atthe front.
Four of the boys had been over the German lines by that time. LikeJimmy Hill, Joe Little had been out on a hunter machine. His experienceswere uneventful, however. His job had been to watch, with anotherhunter, while a speedy, big bomber dropped hundreds of pounds ofexplosives on an enemy munition dump.
The whole affair went through like a dress rehearsal, and without ahitch. They flew straight for their objective, found it without theslightest difficulty, deposited a load of high explosives upon it inquick time, and soared away back home without a single encounter withan enemy plane. They were, it was true, severely "Archied," as theycalled it, but no one of them was the worse for it.
Harry Corwin had been over the Boche lines three times, and had foundthe experience quite sufficiently exciting, though he had not been inactual combat at close quarters with the enemy as had Jimmy Hill.
His work for three mornings had been to escort a certain observationplane which had been sent each day to watch the development of areserve line of dugouts well in the rear of the German front line.As a matter of fact, the pilot of the observation machine, a swifttriplane, was well known as a dead shot. He needed an escort machineless than Harry did, Harry thought.
That triplane was about as formidable in appearance as any aircraftcould be. It was only a two-seater, but it was armed with twomachine-guns, singularly well placed. The front rapid-firer was fixedbetween the two supporting planes, the barrel next to the motor andparallel with it. This front gun was fired by Richardson, the pilotof the triplane, who controlled it with his right hand. This was aradical departure from some of the more usual gun positions, in whichthe gun was customarily located on the upper plane and operated by theobserver.
Having a gun all to himself had pleased Richardson mightily, and hehad become a wonderful shot.
The second gun on the triplane was placed on the framework behind theobserver's station. It was mounted on a revolving base, and had anexceptionally wide range of fire.
"It is a pure joy, sometimes," Richardson was once heard to say, "tosee the way the little major grins when some chesty Boche has thoughthe had us sure, and comes creeping up behind, only to get a dose rightin the nose. That gun of the major's carries further than anythingwe have run against yet, and he just couldn't miss a Hun to savehis life." The major was Richardson's observer.
Another yarn that Richardson was accustomed to tell on his companionof the upper reaches ran as follows: "When they first put me atcarting observation planes around I was pretty green. I had butvery shortly before done my first solo in England. The Britishwere fairly short of fliers then, or I should not have been sentout. I arrived at the airdrome full of conceit, thinking I was areal pilot.
"The morning after I got there they led me out and stood me alongsidea double-seater. The boss of that shop told me he wanted to see metake it around for a try-out, and then it was off and away for thefront. He said considerately that I might wait a few minutes untilanother new arrival had done his little preliminary canter.
"The other victim started up, taxied toward the other side of thefield that served for an airdrome, and lifted too late, with theresult that he caught the wheels of his chassis in the tall hedgeand came down in mighty nasty fashion on the other side, just out ofsight. That is, he was out of sight. The tail of his plane stuck upto show what a real header he had taken. I found out later that hegot out of that smash with a broken leg and a bad shake-up, but whenI was standing there by that machine, waiting to go up, I thoughtthe poor devil who had the tumble must have been killed, sure.
"Then up came the major. He was a captain then. He was going to getinto his seat when the boss-man said to him: 'I suggest that you waituntil he has done a round or so alone.'"
"The little captain snorted at this, but the boss evidently thoughtit best, so up I went, alone.
"I did well enough, and after feeling the machine thoroughly, camedown, making a fine landing. But fate was out with her ax thatmorning. No one had said a word to me about a ditch that had beendug on the left side of the field, and, of course, I had to find it.When I saw it, no time was left to avoid it, so in I went. Overtoppled the poor plane, and smash went my under-works. In fact, Icame out of my seat rather quickly, but wasn't really hurt. Theboss chap was a bit mad, but the little captain man just laughed.
"Good thing I waited till he had had his little fun," he chuckled."now we can off and do our work, I suppose."
"I thought he was joking, but he wasn't. He did not mind my smash abit. I saw that. He went right on up with me in another machine tenminutes later just as though we had been going up together for years.That is the kind of nerve my major has."
Richardson did not realize how very much cool action of the observationofficer had to do with the implanting in the pilot of a good soundconfidence in himself. Had Richardson but known it, the captain, ashe was then, had never been more apprehensive of trouble. He didnot like to trust himself to green fliers, any more than another manwould have done. But he knew that quick, sure show of confidence wasthe only thing that would put confidence into Richardson in turn.Such moments are sometimes the crucial ones. At such times fliersmay be made or marred in a manner that may be, for good or for ill,irrevocable.
Sent to watch and assist this pair of doughty warriors, Harry Corwinfound most of his time in the air spent in keeping in the positionwhich had been assigned to him. Archies were everyday things toRichardson and his major. They did not by any means scorn them, theanti-aircraft guns, as continual improvement was noticeable, not onlyin their marksmanship, but in their range. But Richardson was apastmaster at judging when he was well out of range, and equally cleverat getting into such a position.
Once Harry had seen a fascinating duel between Richardson and a Bocheplane, in which the latter retired before a decision was reached.Once the two American pilots had been compelled to run from a squadronof hunters, who gave up the chase as soon as they drew near to theAllied territory. But Jimmy Hill's exploit, and the fact that he hadnot only been the hero of a fight against big odds, but had actuallybrought down a flier and smashed up a hunter machine, loomed so largewith the Brighton boys that the more ordinary experiences of theothers paled into insignificance in their eyes.
Bob Haines had been on a photographing trip, and had earned greatcommendation from the observation officer whom he carried. Bob hadtaken keenly to the scientific work of trench photography, and spenthis spare hours in the photographic workshop, which was a storehouseof wonders to him. He was fast getting sound ideas on subjects inconnection with air-pictures, which made him all the more valuableas a pilot of a machine that carried some officer of the photographicdepartment.
He had witnessed a very pretty fight between an American and a Bochenot far distant, but he could not take part. His observer was a goodhand with a Lewis gun, too. They had on board at that time, however,a set of negatives that were of considerable value, which they hadbeen sent specially to obtain, so their duty was to leave the hunterto fare as best he could, while they scurried home in safety withtheir negatives.
Thus Will Corwin found that the Brighton boys were fast becomingbroken in to practical flying work. Archie Fox had been as busyas any of the rest, tuning up a new machine that had a hidden kinkin its anatomy somewhere that defied detection.
Dicky M
ann had been selected by the flight commander to work up aspecial set of maps---office work that required great care. He hadbeen absorbed day and night, and had cut down his sleeping hours tofive or six hours instead of the eight or nine he used to indulge inat Brighton.
It was not so exciting as flying, the commander had told him whenhe was selected for the job, "but of equal, if not greater, importance."At all events, Dicky was at it, heart and soul, and the evening thatWill Corwin made his appearance was the first for some days thatDicky had joined his messmates for a chat after dinner.
"How do you think we Yanks are making out against the Teutons in theair, Will?" asked Harry. "Do you think they are beginning to recognizethat we have 'em beaten?"
Will Corwin grinned. "'Beginning to' is good, but that's along wayfrom the finished realization, and I don't guess that will come forsome little time yet. It's up to America and the Allies to keep onturning out planes and fliers at top speed."
"What about the wonderful speed of the German machines, Will?" askedJoe Little.
"An awful lot of rot is talked about speed, as you boys must know.We captured a very decent German flier once, who got lost in a fogand ran out of petrol. When he had to come down he found he wasright near our airdrome, so he volplaned right down on our field.We were surprised to see him. He was in an Albatros of a late type,too. As you can imagine, we gave him a very hearty greeting. Hetook it pretty well, considering everything. I had him into my shackfor lunch, and we got quite friendly before they took him back tothe base. I remember at that time that the usual talk about Bocheflying machines on this front would lead you to believe that theywere much faster than we were. At home you could hear almost anyspeed attributed to the German aeroplanes. I think some Americansthought they could do about two miles to the English or French planes'one.
"I was particularly interested in the Fokkers, Walverts and L.V.G.machines, which were the ones we had to fight most. Now, accordingto that candid young German, who seemed ready enough to talk franklyabout things, anyone of those three planes that did one hundred milesan hour at an elevation of ten thousand feet was considered a mightygood plane. If it did one hundred and twenty miles at thatelevation it was thought to be a hummer. They were fast climbersfor their speed, and usually did most of their fighting, if they hada choice, at thirteen to fourteen thousand feet up. Only the Albatroscould be depended upon to beat one hundred and twenty miles an hourregularly. He said he would rather not tell me the speed of theAlbatros, I did not press him. The point of all this is that thosevery machines he was discussing were credited with speeds ofanything up to one hundred and thirty-five or one hundred and fiftymiles per hour by lots of people who thought they knew all aboutit. There will never come a day, in our generation, when one hundredand fifty miles an hour at ten thousand feet up will not be mightygood flying."
"You have been at this game some time now, Will," said Joe Little."Can you think of anything we ought to specially learn that we won'tget hold of in plain flying? A tip is often worth a lot, you know."
"From what I hear from you boys, I guess what Joe means by plainflying means pretty well every sort of stunt. I don't think onefellow can tell another much about that sort of thing. Some of itcomes natural and some of it has to be learned by experience. I thinkfliers are born, not made, anyway. There is one thing you might getsome tips upon. That relates to cloud formations. You can't know toomuch about that. I am expecting a book from home on that subjectshortly, and when I wade through it I will let you boys have it."
"The state of the atmosphere plays a bigger part in aerial battlesthan one might think. Calm days, without the least wind, when thesky is covered by large gray clouds, are, as you all probably know,very favorable for surprise attacks. The clouds act as a screenand allow the aviator to hide himself until the very moment he thinkshe can drop on his enemy and take him by surprise.
"The Germans have a scheme they worked pretty successfully for awhile. When the clouds lie low, one of their machines dashes aroundbelow the clouds, only two or three hundred yards up, and in thearea into which the Allied planes are likely to come. This solemachine acts, if the scheme works, as a sort of bait. Sometimesthey pick a slow machine of an old model for the part, and it lookseasy meat. They tell me that the French fliers never could withstandthe temptation of seeing such a plane hovering round. The Frenchflier would give chase, even far over the enemy lines, and at thevery moment the Frenchman was about to attack under conditions thatleft but little doubt in his mind of the issue, unexpectedly, suddenly,he would find himself surrounded by three or four enemy planes of thelatest model, with full armament.
"You see, the Germans would have been flying above the clouds, watching,the two planes below, and not showing themselves until the decoy planehad drawn the French flier ten or fifteen miles from his base. It paysto be mighty wary of anything that looks too easy in this game, andyou can't be too much on the lookout for surprise parties when theclouds lie low."
"Tell us about the most exciting thing you have seen since you havebeen out here, Will," begged Dicky Mann. "I have been stuck on officework, and don't get a chance to have the fun the rest do. I wouldlike to hear something about a real red-hot scrap that you have beenin or seen."
"What work are you on?" queried Will.
"Maps."
"That isn't dull work, by a long shot. You can learn much in the maproom that will be worth lots to you one day, too. A good knowledgeof the country, the rivers, the canals, the railroads---the ordinaryroadways, for that matter---has saved more than one chap from makinga fool of himself."
"Dicky is as happy as a clam," said Harry. "He knows he is doinggood work, and the amount of time he spends over his blessed mapsshows well enough that he is out to get some of the map lore stuckin his head. Quit kicking, Dicky."
"All the same, you fellows have the fun," insisted Dicky. "I likethe work well enough. I will admit that. And there are thingsworth picking up in that department, too. A man would be a foolnot to see that. But tell us, Will, about the most exciting thingyou have seen in the air."
There was a general seconding of Dicky's request, at which Will lithis pipe for the thirtieth time and said thoughtfully: "It is not aneasy matter to choose, but the thing I had the hardest time toforget, and about the most spectacular thing a man could see, doesnot make much of a story. Like many things that take place in theair, it happened so quickly that we were unprepared for it.
"I was out with an observer, a very good pal of mine, on a bigpusher-plane that had one of the finest engines in it I had everseen. I don't know why we haven't had more of those out here.Something to do with the plane itself, I think. I understand theplane did not do so well as the engine, and they are getting out anew thruster to take that engine. When it comes along it will bea daisy. We had been doing what my observer called dog work. Bythat he meant just plain reconnaissance. We had taken in a givenarea, and followed all the roads to watch for traffic. We had notednothing of particular interest, and at last we turned for home.
"We had not gone far when right ahead came a Boche flier pounding forhome himself, apparently. It was a two-seater. He evidently likedour looks but little, and started to climb for safety. But wecould climb, too. He had never met one of that pusher type, Iguess. We kept on going up, getting higher and higher, and gainingon him all the time. It must have been a big strain for the men inthat enemy machine.
"I could imagine them discussing us."
"What is it?" one may have asked.
"He will quit soon; we will be at twenty thousand feet before long,"the other may have replied.
"It was at just about twenty thousand feet that we at last got withinrange. We had both been in chases before. We were cool enough aboutthis one, I think. My observer was. He sat there calmly enoughwaiting till I could get near enough for him to let fly. I was toobusy watching the fellow in front to think about much else. I havealways thought that he must have miscalculated
the distance thatI had gained. Maybe something went a bit wrong with his enginethat took his attention. He was about as far up as he could gethis bus. Twenty thousand feet is nearly four miles, you know. Weare likely to forget that. It is a long way up, even now, and itseemed further up then.
"I am afraid I am stringing the story out, rather, but it strungitself out that way. It was 'most all climb, climb, climb, with aneye on the two men in the plane ahead. Then I got him in range,and before I realized it." "Brrr-r-rr-rrr-rrrr!" started the quick-firerbehind me. That was the most exciting moment I have gone throughout here.
"They moment the machine-gun started something truly extraordinaryhappened. The Boche pilot, at the very first burst of fire from us,either jumped out of his seat or fell out.
"I could hardly believe my eyes. Yet there could be no mistake. Hewent over the side of his fuselage and dropped like a man whointended dropping just a few yards. I could see that he fell feetfirst, head up, and arms stretched up above his head, holding hisbody rigidly straight. Neither I nor my observer saw him the momenthe left his seat, but both of us saw him leave the side of his machineand start down, down, down on that long four-mile drop.
"He disappeared, still rigidly straight, with something about hisposition that made us both remark afterwards that he looked as thoughhe was doing it quite voluntarily and had planned it all out just thatway. It was weird.
"Of course it all happened in a twinkling. The big plane in frontof us went on uncannily, without a tremor, apparently. An instantafterwards my observer and I exclaimed loudly together. The observerin the enemy plane had not fired a shot, probably for the reason thathis gun was fixed and we were never in range of it. Suddenly we sawhim climb out of his seat on to the tail of the plane. My observerhad a good target, but his gun was silent. Perhaps that Bocheobserver had an idea of climbing into the seat vacated so curiouslyby the pilot, dropping, dropping, dropping, down that tracklessfour mile path we had come up. If he had such a plan it failedalmost before he started to put it into execution.
"He had no more than climbed out on the tail proper than he losthis hold and plunged headlong after his comrade. He went down pawingand clutching into the void below like a lost soul, in horriblecontrast to the rigid figure of the pilot. Then the aviatik turnedits nose down with a jerk and fell after its human freight, all thelong twenty thousand feet to the earth below.
"We did not say a word to each other till we landed. It gave me anasty shock. I had seen enemy planes go down with enemy fliers inthem, but that rigid figure got me. The struggling chap I forgotlong before I did the other. We more than once discussed what mighthave happened to him, and what his idea might have been---but withoutbeing able to frame any explanation. It was just weird. We letit go at that."
As Will ended his story he pulled out his khaki handkerchief andwiped the perspiration from his forehead. The night was anythingbut warm, and the room in which they sat was quite cool; but thememory of that scene, four miles up, brought the moisture to Will'sbrow, after months had passed since the occurrence.
Two young officers in the mess had been interested listeners. Oneof them, a slight youth named Mason, who hailed from the PacificCoast, now joined in the conversation.
"There has been an instance of an observer taking control of a planeand effecting a good landing after his pilot had been killed," saidMason. "He came down not a long way from an airdrome where I wasstationed. A bit of anti-aircraft shrapnel caught the pilot in theback. It did not kill him instantly, but he was not long insuccumbing to his wound. He had just energy enough left, after herealized that he was very badly hurt, to tell his observer that hewas going off. Before he actually relinquished control of the machine,the observer, who was a daring chap, climbed right out of hisseat, pulled himself along the fuselage, and half-sitting, half-lying,managed to stick there, within reach of the control levers and theengine cut-off.
"He was an old-time flyer himself, and understood aeroplane constructionpretty well, and he made a very decent landing not very far from ourfront lines. Fortunately he was on the right side of them, thoughfrom what he told us afterward that was more luck than judgment. Hethought he was much further back than he was.
"He had become very tired, owing to his strained position on the bodyof the plane, and was afraid he would fall off. So he came down.He had a bad shock when he found that his pilot was stone dead,and had been for some time. He must have died when the observertook over the control of the plane, but the observer, oddly enough,never thought of him as dead, and quite expected to be able to bringhim around if he once got him safely landed."
"Well, that was enough to give anyone a shock," said Will. "But hewould have had a worse shock if he had come down on the Boche'sside. More than one chap has done that just through not knowingexactly where he was. I can't imagine anything more tough thanto get yourself down when something has gone utterly wrong, thankingyour lucky stars that you are down with a whole skin, and then discoveryou are booked for a Hun prison, after all. I could tell you athriller along that line, but it'll keep. You've had enough now tomake you believe that the Air Service demands of a man the very bestthere is in him, brawn and brain."
The hour was late before the boys knew the evening had passed, andthey were most cordial in their invitation to Will Corwin to come andpay them another call. Will said he would do so when he could, butthat next visit was to be long deferred.
Less than a fortnight later Will took part in a gallant fight againstthree machines that had attacked him far within the German territory.
He accounted for one, crippled another, and outsped the third---butwhen he landed his machine in his home airdrome he settled backquietly in the driving seat as the machine came to rest. When hismechanics reached him he was unconscious!
Examination showed that Will had been hit by a machine-gun bullet,that had lodged in his shoulder. In spite of his wound, which wasincreasingly painful and made him fight hard to retain consciousnessuntil he got home with his plane, he made a fine nose-dive that gavehim a clear road to his own lines, and managed to dodge cleverlyonce on his way back when the German Archies began to place shellsunpleasantly close.
Will was given much credit for his pluck and tenacity, was recommendedfor a special decoration, and was packed off to a hospital to recoverfrom his wound, which fortunately gave the doctors little worry,though it put Will on his back for a long time.
Brighton Boys with the Flying Corps Page 8