Our Pilots in the Air Part 12

Without a bit of trouble Blaine's triplane glided upward after a short slide over the rough level of No-Man's-Land, and he was off. Buck attempted to follow but the machine skidded sideways, struck a slope and after a mute struggle with adverse conditions came to a standstill.

Cursing to himself, Buck jumped out, forced his plane to a more stable level, then mounting to his seat again he put on all power to try to overtake his companion. But in that short interval Blaine had vanished in fog.

"If this isn't bad luck, I don't know what is!" soliloquized Buck, as his Nieuport began to rise. "If I'd got off at first, I wouldn't 'a'

lost Lafe. Well, I must do a trifle of scouting on my own hook. "

Buck was climbing, not too fast, for he watched, still hoping that something might happen that he would sight Blaine again. Flying thus easily, climbing still higher, he was all at once startled by a burst of machine gun fire from the ground ahead. There came a reply higher up, and he felt that this must come from Lafe.

Mounting swiftly, he presently became conscious that a machine was hovering above and behind, "getting on his tail" as the slang runs among aviators at the front. The quickest way to avert the danger was first to try the "side loop" which is a kind of "loop-the-loop"

sideways, a risky trick, yet a good thing if rightly done. Buck tried it instantly. When upside down he darted ahead swiftly but in a reversed course, bringing him fairly behind the other plane as he, righted.

As he came up to a level again, now behind his opponent, he saw for an instant that the shadow looming scarce fifty yards ahead looked strangely like Blaine's machine. What to do next -- before firing?

Use his private signal, of course. No sooner thought than done. Two peculiar flares shot forth, each glowing brightly for an instant, then vanis.h.i.+ng.

"But -- hey?" Bangs was e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.n.g. to himself excitedly. "Will he answer?"

Up, up climbed Buck, his pulses throbbing for one long instant, the nose of his machine settling rapidly on the tail of the other plane.

Then came an answering flash. After that another.

"Bully for you, Lafe! My, that was a close call! I mustn't lose track of him again. We'll be there with the goods yet, if we stick together." This to himself.

Presently both machines were moving side by side, hardly fifty yards apart. To come closer at this rate of speed these small scouting planes maintaining would have caused a mutual air suction that might cause a collision. This is the real cause of many of the accidents that befall inexperienced aviators, when out flying, perhaps by themselves.

The night, of course, was far spent. The fog was lightening imperceptibly. Their watches betokened that it was nearing three a.m.

Blaine got out his megaphone, for talking at high alt.i.tudes is much a matter of expanded lung power. He began, as usual, with a joke.

"Like to 'a' got you back there!" he shouted. "Where you been?"

"Looking for you mainly. What you going do next?"

"See that line of fire off norwest! We that's where our front and Johnny Bull's join. Appincourte Bluff seems either to have been turned or to have turned Fritzy off. Ready for a scrimmage?"

"You ought to know, Lafe!" Bangs laughed easily into the megaphone.

"Ready for most anything."

"Well, our front there is rather weak. Follow me. Don't lose me.

We'll give that infantry a time trying to find out who we are that's spitting on them from overhead. Catch me?"

"Yep-fire away! Suits me!"

In another few seconds the two machines were flying through the thinning fog, gradually lowering their alt.i.tude and nearing at a rate of a mile and a half a minute the advancing lines of the enemy, revealed only to these fliers by the close barrage fire maintained by their artillery in the rear.

Of course beyond this barrage must be certain observation planes. The chance must be taken of meeting one of these. Meanwhile the first thing was to begin upon the a.s.saulting battalions with their machine guns.

Almost in an instant they were over the front platoons, flying as close as they dared in order to escape the barrage that was pa.s.sing overhead, falling now behind the front trench line of the Allies. This in order to stop, or at least hinder the arrival of such reinforcements as could be thrown forward to strengthen this suddenly a.s.sailed point.

These planes, being of a late design, had a device whereby the aim of the Lewis gun could be instantly altered from a horizontal to a perpendicular slant. Moreover both Blaine and Bangs had repeating rifles, and revolvers. Great dexterity was shown by each as their machines, slackening their speed to that most suitable for accurate firing, their motors roaring right over the a.s.saulting columns, poured down a spray of bullets that inevitably found a human mark.

Fritzy usually charges in dense ma.s.ses. He is "cannon fodder"; he knows it, but apparently doesn't care. Now, however, he dodged, dived, hunted sh.e.l.l holes, and otherwise evinced extreme terror. First one plane, then the other, at nearest safe distance apart, rained down showers of death. Was this another repet.i.tion that earlier trench a.s.sault that resulted in the destruction of the sausages? It looked so. might also be other swift moving machines behind, each pouring leaden showers on infantry now defenseless. Yet a moment before they were placidly plodding on towards the death in front, for which they had been driven forth by their officers that night.

Occasional shots were fired upward by soldiers here and there. But though close, so swift were the machines that they vanished almost at once from the time of their first appearance at any given point.

Only two? No more. Fritzy began to take courage. Both planes were now whirring on somewhere else. But were they truly gone?

Even while officers were taking heart and again driving forward their men, back came the two planes upon their former path, but now going south instead of north.

Again were the former scenes repeated, with even worse results.

But now arose another sound, a sound as of an advance from the Allied trenches. What could be?

CHAPTER IX

THE FINAL FIGHT

The two aviators, their planes much shot with holes but otherwise unhurt, rose suddenly, swooping in long circles to higher and yet higher alt.i.tudes. The first flushes of dawn were breaking. In the air two observation planes flying over the Allied front were signaling to the German batteries in the rear, from which came the barrage protecting their infantry from Allied advances. At once they knew what to do.

Both drove on through the hostile fire and bore down upon these observation biplanes. Observation planes are not good fighters. In less than a minute after rising those two fighting planes had chased the larger, slower machines off the ground.

But what was Blaine's surprise to see Bangs, not a hundred yards away, making bold signals strange code to the Germans back in the rear. Lafe himself could not read them. What did it mean? For an instant there flashed to him a suspicion that Bangs from Montana might not be just plain American.

"I won't think such a thing!" thought Lafe. "What is he up to?"

Then he saw that the enemy barrage was falling further back, just about where the recovering infantry was resuming its advance, after the short shock occasioned by the two raiding triplanes that had suddenly gone aloft.

"Were the Allies in their turn a.s.saulting the Boches? What could it mean? In another brief interval Blaine found out, when sudden demoralization set in at once. Without apparent cause the Boches, now nearly upon the first Allied trenches, found that they were the center of a bombardment from the rear. What did that mean? The fire was withering.

Could the foe they were attacking be taking them in the flank? The idea was almost unbelievable. And yet the fire was also insupportable.

With one accord the front lines recoiled, although their officers beat the privates with their sword flats, cursing and reviling them as cowards. Right on top of this, the queer noises in front materialized into certainties.

The Allies were advancing. Were there not also reinforcements behind?

Reinforcements. .h.i.therto kept back by what? The barrage. Where was that barrage now? Falling not only on their rear but also further back. How did this happen? Where were their own planes?

Officers and men were dropping on every hand. A charging foe in front was almost on them. After a minute or two of this, that whole section of the advance appeared to melt like froth on the water.

Meantime up above, and from a higher alt.i.tude than before, Bangs continued his mysterious signaling; not to Blaine or to the Allies, but -- wonder of all wonders -- to the Boches themselves.

Blaine now understood this, for he had noticed that the barrage itself had fallen back. Instead of covering and protecting the Germans, it was slaughtering them even more than the two aviators had done with their machine guns from a lower alt.i.tude.

Upon the sudden rout below, which was sensed rather than seen by the two fliers as the dawn rapidly grew, came the new rush of the Allies.

By this time Blaine felt that he and Buck must do one of two things.

Those retreating observation planes would undoubtedly bring up air reinforcements. The barrage had already stopped. This was good for the charging Allies as well as the retreating Boches.

"Buck and I have either got to get back inside our lines or fight," he thought, carefully balancing his triplane against a rising breeze. "Or we might rise higher and take another chance. One thing we have done.