The Boy Aviators with the Air Raiders: A Story of the Great World War

In truth, Frank, in the belief that if they could only keep afloat, their momentum would be sufficient to carry the seaplane across the line of trenches, was trying to conserve every atom of power. He asked nothing more than this, and would be willing to take his chances of making a fairly successful landing, though a craft of that description was never intended to start or finish a voyage save on the water.

Pudge became more alarmed, now that the shrill clatter of the exhaust had been silenced, for unlike Billy he had not grasped just why this had come about.

“Oh! will we make it, Frank?” he cried in an agony of fear.

“I think so,” the pilot told him steadily.

“But she’s swaying right now as if ready to give up the ghost and drop!” Pudge complained in a strained voice. “That rattle has stopped. Why is that, Frank?”

“I did it so as to keep what energy we’ve got as long as we can,” he was told.

“We’re doing nobly, young m’sieu!” called out M. Le Grande.

“Yes, there are the trenches just ahead of us!” added Billy. “Listen to the rattle of rifles, will you? And I can hear cheers too, hearty English cheers. See them jumping up in plain sight and waving to us, boys! A little further, Frank, and you can volplane if it’s necessary, because we’ll have crossed the line and be in safety.”

But the puttering of the motors told that they had arrived at the last stage of labor. A gas engine cannot run without fuel of some sort, and the vapor now being fed was of an inferior quality, so that the energy became less and less.

They were at this critical time almost directly over the German trenches, and so close that they could see the soldiers pointing up at them, even without the use of field glasses or binoculars.

“Oh! did you hear that bullet hum past then?” ejaculated Pudge, who had ducked his head in an involuntary way as though he would avoid contact with the random lead, just as some nervous people start with each flash of lightning.

Other missiles were also winging along through space, showing that the seaplane, in its mad race for a safe landing, must have already descended a considerable distance under Frank’s manipulation.

Strange what queer thoughts will flash into the mind when under such a stress as this. Frank afterward laughed to remember how he was determining then and there, that if ever he had occasion to make another aërial voyage above hostile armies, where he might be subject to a bombardment, one of the things he meant to see about before starting was that he carried a bullet-proof petrol reservoir along with him.

Suddenly the motors ceased working, as the supply of gas came to an abrupt end. They were by now over the British trenches, where the men were shouting all kinds of hoarse salutes, though compelled to again hastily seek shelter in their pits, as the Germans had opened fire on them.

Frank had but one way open to him in order to reach the ground. This was to volplane swiftly, as he had many a time done after shutting off all power, and when a certain distance from the earth, by suddenly working his planes, cause the aircraft to assume a horizontal position instead of a vertical one, after which would come the straight drop.

Just what sort of a jar must accompany the landing would depend, in a great measure, on the distance they were up at the time, and the skill shown by the pilot in managing these things.

It is always deemed a spectacular method of descending from an upper level, and not as dangerous as it may appear to those who are unfamiliar with the working of aircraft. Frank had practiced it many a time, and in an ordinary aëroplane, with its rubber-tired wheels to run along the ground, would have thought nothing of it. When he had to land with a seaplane, never meant for such a purpose, it was a “horse of another color,” and might be considered a very ticklish job.

The ground seemed to be rushing up to meet them as they fell. Pudge shrank back as though he could already feel the terrible shock of the contact, should they continue to make that swift downward progress.

But Frank was ready to change the planes, and in this manner alter the conditions. They would act as a stay, and bring their headlong rush earthward to an end. After that it would simply be a dead weight drop, and perhaps not so hard as to smash anything about the seaplane beyond repairing.

Before Pudge had time to take another full breath it was all over. They had swept down beyond a low hill, on top of which stood one of the windmills so often seen in Holland, Belgium and Northern France, with its broad arms standing motionless, and the tower showing signs of having been struck by more than one solid shot during some tempestuous battle for the rise.

With slackening speed, the seaplane followed the descent, and then came to almost a full stop at its base. After that it dropped straight to the ground.

The shock proved to be rather severe, and Pudge was even jolted from his seat, falling in a heap close by. Frank jumped out and was immediately followed by Billy and the French air pilot, all of them perhaps considerably shaken, but apparently none the worse for the rough experience.

Frank first of all sprang over to where Pudge was wallowing. The fat boy sat up just as Frank reached his side.

“I hope you’re not hurt much, Pudge?” cried the pilot of the Sea Eagle, as he hurriedly bent over to assist his chum to gain his feet.

Pudge started to feel himself all over. He ran his hands along his fat sides, and then down each leg; after which he proceeded to announce the result.

“Nope, don’t seem to have any serious contusions or broken bones that I’ve been able to find. Guess I’m all whole, Frank, as I hope the rest of you are. But how about the poor old Sea Eagle; is she smashed beyond repair, do you think, Frank?”

“I haven’t taken a look at her so far,” the other told him. “What little damage may have been done can be easily repaired, once we get her taken by wagon to our hangar at Dunkirk.”

“Good enough!” cried Pudge. “I was worrying more over the seaplane than about myself, I do declare. When we can get in touch with the commander at this section of the British forces, we might be able to commandeer some sort of wagon on which the machine can be packed, after we’ve taken it to pieces, and transported it to town. Our good friend, M’sieu Le Grande can tell them the plane now belongs to the French Government, and that a heap depends on its being taken to Dunkirk.”

As they reached the spot where the big seaplane lay like a wounded bird, it was to see the Frenchman and Billy come crawling out from under the wings.

“What’s the extent of the damage?” asked Frank immediately.

Before Billy could start explaining, there was a sharp sound heard, and Frank actually felt the wind of a bullet whizzing past his cheek.

“Duck down everybody!” he exclaimed, suiting his actions to the words, and pulling Pudge after him. “We’re being fired on by somebody concealed in that old windmill base over there. Try and find shelter if you can, Billy!”

CHAPTER XXIII.

THE WINDMILL FORT

While Frank was calling out after this manner everybody was making haste to show as little of their person as possible. As there was not much shelter of any kind available, the only way this could be accomplished was to flatten out on the ground.

By some species of good luck it happened that there was a dip to the earth at the base of the low elevation on which the windmill had been built. Frank afterward called it a “swale.” It ran away from the spot in a zigzag fashion, and perhaps if one were agile and clever, he might even manage to wriggle along this dip without exposing much of his person to those in the tower.

The four of them thus wallowed, and tried to exchange remarks.

“There goes another shot,” said Billy, as a report came to their ears. “I hope nobody’s been hit so far. How about that?”

“No damage here,” replied Frank immediately.

“I am pleased to say the same, young m’sieu,” added the Frenchman.

“Well, so far I haven’t felt a wound, but I’m expecting something dreadful to happen any minute now,” Pudge called out ruefully.

“Why, what’s the matter with you, Pudge?” demanded Billy.

“Only this, that I loom up so much more than anybody else, and there’s lots of chances of them seeing me, that’s all. But then a fellow can only die once, and perhaps I won’t know what hits me, which is some comfort.”

“Hug the ground for all you’re worth then,” the other told him.

“I am, till I can hardly breathe,” replied Pudge. “How long are we going to stay here do you think, Frank?”

“Not a great while, if we know it,” came the answer, which proved that Frank, as usual, was already figuring on some masterly move.

“But think of the nerve of the Germans occupying that windmill right back of the British lines, would you?” exclaimed Billy, as though that fact interested him more than anything else.

“Well, you can expect nearly anything in this desperate fighting,” Frank told him. “Only the other day I was reading about a case where they had made a fort out of an old windmill that had a concrete foundation and walls. The Allies tried ever so many times to dislodge the German sharpshooters, but couldn’t. Then the airmen took a hand, but failed to drop a bomb where it would do the business.”

“How did they manage it in the end, Frank?” asked Billy, always eager to hear the explanation of any puzzle.

“After they had lost a lot of men in direct assaults, the Allies dug a tunnel up under the windmill, laid a mine, and exploded it,” Frank continued.

“And that did the business, did it?” questioned Pudge, also deeply interested for personal reasons.

“It shattered things, and killed every German in the place,” said Frank. “Do you know they found more than a dozen quick-firing guns there? They had made it a regular fort, even though they knew not a single man of them could ever escape in the end.”

“But how can we dig a tunnel without the tools?” demanded Pudge, almost pathetically, “and what have we got to blow them up with, I want to know?”

Billy laughed derisively.

“We couldn’t if we would, Pudge,” he remarked, “and we wouldn’t if we could. We came over here on business for the Sea Eagle Company, Limited, and not to take a hand in shortening the supply of the Kaiser’s brave soldiers.”

“Then what are we meaning to do about it?” the fat boy kept on asking. “I want to know, because to tell you the truth, I’m not feeling very comfortable right now.”

“Frank, have you thought up that scheme yet?” asked Billy, just as indifferently as though it might be the regular program for Frank to figure out a method of escaping from each and every ill that beset them.

“I think there’s a way to do it,” Frank responded. “This swale we’re lying in, as near as I can tell, keeps right along in a crooked fashion, but always bearing in a direction that will take us away from the windmill.”

“Oh! that’s the game, then, is it?” cried Billy. “You lead off, and we follow after you like a trailing snake? Well, I’m pretty good on the crawl, and when it’s necessary I can wriggle to beat the band.”

“Yes,” sang out Pudge with a groan, “but how about me? I’m not built to make a good wriggler, and you know it, fellows. It’s going to be awful tough on a fellow whose body is so thick that it looms up above the sheltering bank some of the time. I’ll be fairly riddled with shot, sooner or later. Please tell me how I’m going to manage it, won’t you?”

“There’s only one thing for you to do, Pudge,” Billy jeered.

“What’s that?” asked the unhappy Pudge.

“Hug tight where you are, and we’ll promise to come back sooner or later and rescue you, after we’ve got a bunch of those Tommies to help us out.”

Apparently the “last resort” idea did not wholly appeal to Pudge, for he quickly went on to say:

“Guess I’ll do the best I can at hunching along after you. Some places I might manage to roll, you see. But I certainly do hope they won’t open fire on me with one of those machine guns that run off a dozen shots a second.”

Frank was already on the move. He may have been sorely puzzled to account for this strange and unprovoked attack on them by the unknown party or parties concealed inside the base of the old windmill; but he also knew that the only thing for them to do was to get away from the danger zone.

A third shot was heard just about that time, and Pudge gave a groan, which naturally alarmed the other boys.

“Don’t tell me you’ve been hit, Pudge?” called Billy, whose heart was in the right place, even if he did occasionally joke his stout chum when a rollicking humor seized him.

“No, not that I’m aware of,” came the answer, “but every time I hear that gun go off it gives me a fierce start. This thing is even worse than falling in an aëroplane, and expecting to get smashed when you strike the ground.”

“But we’re getting along, remember,” said Frank, meaning to encourage the other.

“And these bends on the dip help to hide us from those Germans back there in the bargain,” added Billy, wishing to contribute his mite of consolation.

The French aviator said nothing, though he too must have realized that they were all in more or less danger should they expose themselves too rashly. No doubt, those enemies concealed back of the walls of the windmill base were watching eagerly to catch signs of their presence, and ready to send a storm of deadly missiles that way at the least invitation.

Despite his size, Pudge was really making a good job out of it. He could do things when he made up his mind to try hard.

They could hear him puffing dreadfully, and making a noise that Billy likened to the blowing of a porpoise as it wallowed in the billows.

“Every foot counts with us, remember, Pudge,” said Billy, who was just ahead of the fat boy, turning his head to speak, for it was hardly wise to call out any longer and thus tell the enemy where to fire.

“Mine feel like they were made of lead and I can hardly drag ’em along after me,” the other replied, mistaking the meaning of Billy’s words.

“There goes still another shot; I wonder what they can be shooting at?”

Hearing Billy make this remark, Frank saw fit to answer him.

“I think they must believe we’re still hiding somewhere about the seaplane, which is partly visible from the rise; and every now and then they take a snap shot to let us know they’re on the job.”

At hearing that Pudge seemed to feel much easier in his mind, for there was a joyful strain to his voice when he next spoke in a husky whisper to Billy.

“That lets me out, Billy, and I’ll be able to hunch along better after this. But let me tell you I’ll be mighty glad when it’s all over with. I’m scraping my knees something awful, and I’ll be lame for days after this.”

“Well, why complain when you know there are some things a whole lot worse than having scraped knees?” he was told. Apparently this caused Pudge to look at things in a different light, for he closed up.

It continued in this fashion for quite some time, until Frank began to believe they had gone well beyond the danger zone. When he raised his head he could not discover the windmill at all, which was ample proof that there was no longer anything to fear from that quarter.

He was just about to say something along those lines to the others, when he made an unpleasant discovery.

“What are you stopping here for, Frank?” asked Billy, as he and the French aviator came crawling up alongside the leader, and he chanced to observe that Frank was acting rather strangely.

“Because it seems that our further progress is going to be blocked,” replied Frank.

“You’re staring hard at that bunch of trees ahead where we were hoping to get on our feet again. What’s wrong over yonder?” demanded Billy.

“Only that I’ve seen signs to tell me there are men hiding in among those trees, who have seen us coming, and are waiting to trap us,” Frank told him.

CHAPTER XXIV.

FRIENDS IN NEED

“Oh! something is always cropping up to nip our plans in the bud, it seems like,” Pudge groaned, on hearing Frank make that unpleasant statement.

“Are you sure they’re Germans, Frank?” demanded Billy.

“I couldn’t tell from the glimpses I had of them,” answered the other; “only they have guns, and are in uniform.”

“Of course, I had to go and leave the field glasses hanging in the case with the seaplane,” Billy declared. “M’sieu, would you mind letting me look through those binoculars you have along with you?”

Of course, the obliging Frenchman immediately complied with this request, and as Billy focused the glasses on the trees ahead the others held their breath while waiting to hear the verdict.

“There, I can see figures, all right,” said the observer, “and they’re watching this way in the bargain. Frank, it’s all right, I tell you!”

“Then they’re British soldiers?” asked the other, with a note of relief in his voice.

“Just what they are,” replied Billy. “They must have seen the plane falling back here, and have come to find out whether anyone was hurt. Then those shots over at the old windmill made them hold up, and right now they don’t know what to think. Hadn’t you better signal them, Frank?”

“Right away, Billy.”

Accordingly Frank elevated his handkerchief, and waved it until he received a reassuring signal from someone amidst the trees. After that the little party rose and advanced, Frank advising them to hold up their hands so as to convince the soldiers they had no possible hostile intent.

It was with a feeling of great relief that they found themselves face to face with a British captain, who surveyed them curiously.

“You came down in that big aëroplane with the boat underneath it?” was the first thing he asked.

“Yes, and we count ourselves pretty lucky not to have dropped inside the German lines in the bargain,” Frank told him. “You see, sir, we are three American boys. My name is Frank Chester, this is Billy Barnes, a newspaper reporter, and Pudge Perkins is the third member of our party. As for this gentleman, you must surely have heard of the well-known French aviator, M. Armand Le Grande.”

“And I am Captain Charles Marsden, of the Sussex Regiment,” replied the officer, cordially shaking hands. “Most assuredly, I have often heard of M. Le Grande, and once saw him play a daring trick on three German Taube pilots. But what manner of strange craft was it passed over our lines, and where have you come from?”

“First of all,” said Frank, “I had better explain what brought the three of us over here in France when we had better be safe at home in America. The father of Pudge here is an aviator and an inventor. He has constructed a wonderful seaplane designed to save human life in case of accidents at sea. A sample was sent over to the French Government at their request before the war broke out, but had never been taken from the cases. So, on their invitation, we came across to assemble the parts, and prove the great value of the new type of machine.”

“All this is very interesting to me, my young friend,” ventured the officer; “so please go on with your explanations.”

“We have a contract whereby the French Government can acquire this great seaplane for cash, and pay a royalty for every one up to fifty that they construct themselves from the sample. That is as far as our neutrality will allow us to go. And M. Le Grande was selected to accompany us on a trial flight to learn in what way our Sea Eagle was superior to the ordinary planes in common use.”

“Oh! then you have just been making that flight,” remarked the officer, “and by mistake managed to cross the lines, so that you came near falling into the hands of the enemy?”

Frank smiled, and even Pudge gave a disdainful snort.

“Well, although you have not heard the news yet, Captain Marsden, this has been a glorious day for your countrymen,” Frank told him. “This morning some thirty-four seaplanes started up the coast, nearly every one of them manned by British aviators, and made a most desperate raid on the submarine bases around Zeebrugge, as well as bombarded railway stations, destroyed oil tanks, and even exploded a magazine, giving the enemy a grand scare, and doing much damage.”

How the officer’s rosy face broadened in a smile when he heard that! The way in which the Kaiser had spoken of them in the beginning of the war as “that contemptible little British army,” would never be forgotten or forgiven; and everyone who wore the king’s khaki was resolved in his mind to do all in his power to make the Emperor change his opinion before quitting time.

“But how do you know about this grand event?” he demanded.

“We accompanied the raiders, and witnessed pretty much all that was done,” Frank told him. “After the fleet of aircraft had turned homeward again we started across country to take a look at Lille, and see what you people were up to over in this region. We also meant that M’sieu should have the worth of his money and learn all the big airship could do.”

“Wonderful, and you so young at that!” exclaimed the soldier; “but then I understand American boys are equal to such things. But what happened to send you down as though you were a bird with a crippled wing?”

“A stray shot must have punctured our petrol tank and allowed the fuel to drain out, for we suddenly discovered we had none. Only through great luck were we able to push ahead, and escape falling back of the German lines.”

“That would have been a misfortune in several ways, I take it,” said the officer.

“Just after we fell, and were trying to see if any of us had been hurt, we were fired on from the old windmill base, and it was only by crawling along a depression that we finally managed to escape.”

“So that was where those shots came from?” cried Captain Marsden. “We wondered if they had any connection with the dropping of the aëroplane. What do you wish us to do for you, boys?”

“Excuse me,” Frank remarked, “but hearing you say you belonged to a Sussex regiment made me remember that a very good friend of ours, in Dunkirk just at present, Major Nixon, also came from that part of England.”

“What, Tom Nixon!” exclaimed the soldier, his face lighting up again; “one of my best friends, and with whom I’ve followed the hounds dozens of times after the fox. If you are comrades of his, I would esteem it a privilege to help you out in any way possible.”

“The chief concern we have,” Frank told him, “is that we must manage in some way to get our machine, after we’ve taken it to pieces, transported back to the hangar at Dunkirk.”

“But suppose we could supply you with sufficient petrol to take you there; would that help you out, or is the machine wrecked too badly?”

“It is injured somewhat,” Frank continued, “though we might manage to repair that part of it; but unfortunately it is next to impossible for a seaplane to rise anywhere but from the water. That is on account of the boat part of the structure, you understand, sir. Could you manage to secure us a motor truck to transport ourselves and the machine across country by road? It would be doing the French Government one of the greatest favors possible; ask M’sieu here if that is not so.”

“Indeed, there could not be a greater favor,” the Frenchman declared warmly. “I have seen to-day that which may help to bring this terrible war to a much speedier close if only we can put fifty of those wonderful American machines in the field.”

“Say no more, for I shall see to it that the motor truck is placed at your service,” said the captain heartily.

“But how about the windmill, Captain?” asked Frank, “and the Germans who occupy it as a fort; will you attack them and capture the place? It commands the spot where the stranded seaplane lies, and I’m afraid we can do but little unless the danger is laid.”

“We will go back the way you came,” decided the soldier. “I will have my men accompany us, and when we reach a convenient place a rush should take the mill.”

“I’ll go along with you then, Captain,” assented Frank.

“Same here,” added Billy; but Pudge shook his head sadly, and reaching down felt tenderly of his knees, as he remarked:

“You’ll have to excuse me this time, fellows; I must beg off. After it’s all over give me a whoop, and I’ll walk to where you are. Crawling doesn’t seem to be my special forte, I’m sorry to say.”