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

“That’s all right, Pudge, stay here until we give you the signal that the coast is clear,” Billy told him.

Orders being given to the soldiers, the entire lot started toward where the dip began. A few minutes later they were making their way along on hands and knees, and appearing to the observant Pudge very much like a trailing snake.

There was not a single shot fired at them as they crept on, and in the end they found themselves at the spot where the big seaplane lay.

As they could go forward no further in that way, orders were given for a charge, and the two boys, still crouching there, were thrilled to see the dozen men in khaki start across the open ground on the run, each one dodging as he saw best in order to take as little chances of being hit as possible.

“Why, look at that, Frank!” cried Billy. “Not a single shot has been fired at them! What do you think the Germans are up to? Are they waiting to mow them down in a heap? Hey, isn’t that a white flag waving from the old mill? Why, honest, now, I do believe they mean to throw up the sponge, and surrender. Let’s start forward ourselves, Frank.”

“Wait and see,” cautioned the other. “After the soldiers have gone inside will be time enough for us to hurry up.”

“Well, there they go right now, Frank!” cried the other. “Please come on, for I’m dying to know what it all means. It isn’t like Germans to give up that way without a hard fight.”

When they arrived at the windmill the mystery was soon explained. The terrible garrison consisted of just a single old man, and he was not a German at all, but a French peasant who had lost all he possessed when the Kaiser’s army went through this part of France earlier in the war. His mind had given way under the strain, and filled with the idea that his old mill was a fort he had stationed himself in it with his gun, ready to repel the invaders of the sacred French soil.

When the strange seaplane fell he had conceived the idea that it was some sort of monster which he ought to slay, and so he had taken several pot-shots at the great drab wings which he could just see from his lookout.

Luckily, however, the old peasant, crazy though he might be, knew British soldiers’ uniforms, for the Tommies had been very good to him during the month they were in the neighborhood pushing the enemy back. So he had put up that white flag as soon as he recognized the khaki uniforms of those who were advancing on the run.

“Shucks!” Billy was heard to say. “That’s the way things sometimes drop from the sublime to the ridiculous. Here we were picturing a squad of desperate Prussians cooped up in this windmill base ready to sell their lives dearly, and it proves to be a silly old peasant who is out of his mind.”

“Well, it’s a tragedy, just the same,” Frank told him. “Think of what this Jean Bart has suffered, seeing all his possessions destroyed, and perhaps his entire family wiped out. The Captain tells me there was some trouble with the natives here when the German army went through, and some reckless shooting. But now we can get busy on the seaplane. Call our chum Pudge, will you, Billy?”

The work of taking the seaplane to pieces was going to take them some little time. Meanwhile Captain Marsden, who left several of his men at the spot with orders to assist where it was possible, went back to headquarters to state the case and see what could be done toward getting them a motor truck.

As these vehicles were carrying loads to the front, and usually went back empty, save when they took some of the wounded to the hospitals, it did not prove a very difficult thing to commandeer such a van, once permission had been obtained from the general.

Along about three in the afternoon of that February day, they saw a big motor truck coming. It seemed capable of passing over the fields as well as the road, for at the time the ground was pretty well frozen.

Everything seemed favorable, and the work of loading the seaplane was commenced with a vim. Before they got off, Captain Marsden again made his appearance, accompanied by a higher officer, who turned out to be the general in charge of that part of the British line, though the boys were not told his name.

He had been so deeply impressed with the remarkable story told by the captain that he had taken the trouble to come out there himself to meet the bold American boys who had that day witnessed the aërial bombardment of the German naval bases along the Belgian coast.

While the loading was being finished, at his urgent request, Frank entered into a brief description of what they had seen the fleet of seaplanes accomplish. His stirring account must have greatly pleased and heartened the general, for he insisted on shaking hands with Frank on leaving, an honor few dignified British officers would be likely to bestow upon boys from another land.

“I hope we’re going to ride along with the machine, Frank?” remarked Pudge, when the last knot had been tied in the ropes that held the packed seaplane on the van.

“I don’t know what you’re meaning to do, Pudge,” Billy told him. “I’ve got my seat all picked out.”

“Better get up, for we’re going to start,” warned Frank; and so Pudge found a place where he would not be in danger of rolling off. Frank followed suit, Le Grande also got aboard, and then the big motor truck started for the nearest road.

Captain Marsden, having waved them a farewell, was heard shouting after them:

“Give my best regards to Tom Nixon, and tell him we’ll follow the hounds again after this little unpleasantness is over. Good-by, and good luck to you!”

CHAPTER XXV.

THE DESPERATE GAME OF TAG

Riding on that motor truck over some of the very roads in that section of France where hot battles had only recently been fought, that was another new experience for the Boy Aviators. In many places the driver of the van pointed out to them interesting features of the landscape, relating to M. Le Grande the fierce struggle that had perhaps taken place where that barbed wire entanglement was seen, and then showing where innumerable little mounds of earth marked the last resting place of those brave men who had laid down their lives for their country.

They overtook several vans containing wounded soldiers, who seemed very cheerful, and were actually singing in chorus, as British Tommies have a habit of doing. An ambulance squad was also encountered going to the front for a fresh load, taking nurses and doctors wearing the Red Cross on their sleeves to where they would find plenty of work.

Pudge took a great interest in the hospital corps.

“They’re the real heroes and heroines of this war, as sure as anything,” he remarked, sagely, as he waved his hand toward the party, and received an answering signal from one of the buxom looking English lassies.

There were times when for a short distance they had the road apparently to themselves. Then again it would be crowded with all manner of vehicles, and marching troops heading toward the front, returning wounded, and artillery being dragged laboriously along, either with sturdy horses or powerful traction engines.

The boys were feeling fairly decent, for the sun had a little warmth in it, and there was even a hint of coming Spring in the breath of the lowlands.

Without the slightest warning there came a terrible crash that seemed to make the earth tremble. Pudge came within an ace of tumbling off the crowded van, and was only saved by Billy clutching hold of him.

“Oh! a German shell must have burst!” shrilled the excited Billy.

“But we are too far away from the fighting line for that,” said Frank.

A passing shadow made him look hastily upward. As he did so a cry of wonder and dismay burst from his lips, which of course caused everyone to follow his example, even to the chauffeur of the war van.

“An aëroplane!” shouted Pudge.

“Yes, and a German Taube at that, don’t you see?” cried Billy.

“That must have been a bomb thrown at us, and there over on the right is where it made a gap in the field,” said Frank.

The chauffeur looked somewhat alarmed. He even increased the speed of the big van, though it was too cumbersome a vehicle to move at all swiftly, its main hold being vast power and carrying ability.

The aëroplane was at some distance above them, and moving in a circle like a great hawk which it so much resembled.

“Frank, he’s turning to come up behind us again, don’t you see?” exclaimed Pudge, gripping the arm of the one to whom this remark was addressed.

“Sure thing,” added Billy, trying to look calm, though he was trembling all over with the nervous strain and the excitement of the thing; “he’s meaning to try again and see if this time he can’t make a better crack at us, I suspect.”

“But why pick out this van when there are lots of the same type moving along the road, going and coming, that’s what I’d like to know?” begged the bewildered Pudge.

“Huh! guess you forget what we’re carrying with us, don’t you, Pudge?” demanded Billy, with a sense of importance in his voice and manner.

“The Sea Eagle plane!” burst out the fat chum.

“Haven’t the Germans been trying right along to either get possession of our sample machine, or failing that smash it into splinters, so the Allies can’t profit by the same?” asked Billy.

“Yes, yes, it must be as you say, Billy,” admitted Pudge; “but see there, he’s swept around now, and seems to be lowering with that big circle. Frank, will he get us yet, do you think?”

“Not if we are smarter than he is,” replied the other, as with wrinkled brow he watched the evolutions of the daring flier.

“They learned that we’d met with that accident,” Billy went on to say hurriedly, “and as soon as they could get one of their fliers busy it was started out to look for the van carrying our seaplane. That chap up there alongside the pilot has glasses, and spied us out easy enough.”

“There, he’s heading after us again, Frank!” shrilled Pudge, shivering as he stared, although it must have been only with a great effort that the fat boy was able to twist around as he did; “what can we do to upset his calculations?”

“If one of those terrible bombs ever hits us, good-night!” muttered Billy, as he too kept tabs of the now approaching Taube.

Frank was saying something to the chauffeur, evidently making certain arrangements with him so that when he touched the man’s arm he would suddenly shut off power, and bring the van to a full stop.

They could easily see the two who were in the Taube, the pilot paying attention to his part of the business, while his companion leaned eagerly forward, intently watching so as to hurl the bomb at the right second.

Frank judged rightly that the man would make allowances for the speed of the motor van along the road, when he sent the explosive. That was where their real chance to outwit the enemy lay.

Keenly he watched this second man, forgetting about the pilot, who really had little to do with the hurling of the bomb.

“There, he’s raising his hand, Frank!” cried Pudge.

“And I can see what he’s gripping, too!” added Billy vociferously.

“Keep still!” ordered Frank, who did not wish them to be making any sort of racket while the crisis was so close at hand, since it might interfere with what he meant to do, and that was of vital importance to them all.

Frank could judge for himself about when the man was apt to throw his deadly missile. Their own speed was only a certain per cent slower than that of the hostile aëroplane above.

Just when he discerned a movement of the man’s whole body and knew he was in the act of speeding the explosive, Frank gripped the arm of the waiting chauffeur.

Instantly the expectant driver shut off all power and applied the brake. It was just as though he had suddenly found himself about to plunge through the open draw of a bridge into a deep river.

Even as the big clumsy van came to a halt in the road there was a fearful crash not thirty feet ahead of them, accompanied by a puff of smoke.

The boys had dropped back as flat as they could at Frank’s suggestion, and fortunately no one seemed to have been injured by the flying missiles and stones.

Immediately the chauffeur once more started forward, though of course he had to drive carefully.

“Oh! see the fierce hole it dug in the road-bed!” burst forth Billy, and they all stared hard at this positive evidence of the dreadful result of the explosion.

By judicious care the chauffeur managed to get around the obstruction without having one of his wheels sink into the gap. Of course the first squad of men passing along that way would fill in the hole; but the boys were certainly not bothering their heads over that at present.

They could see that the two daring aviators who seemed so bent on accomplishing the utter annihilation of the wonderful American invention, were not disheartened so far by their several failures.

“They don’t mean to give it up at that, Frank, believe me!” said Billy.

“Oh! they’re a stubborn lot, those Germans,” admitted Pudge, “and never know when to stop, once they’ve set their minds on a thing.”

“Third time may be the charm, you know,” croaked Billy, hoarse from the excitement under which he was undoubtedly laboring for all he appeared so cool. “Don’t I wish I had my trusty gun along right now. Mebbe I wouldn’t make those chaps sit up and take notice, and quit their fooling.”

“They’re dropping still lower, Frank!” said Pudge.

“I see they are,” answered the other, soberly.

“Here’s a stick that might look like a gun from up above,” said the artful Billy; “I’m going to lie down and keep waving it like I was taking aim. It can’t do any harm that I see, and may make them keep off some, hey, Frank?”

“Do as you please, Billy,” he was told.

Truth to tell Frank was hard put to it just then to know what their plan of campaign ought to be. The next time the Germans hurled one of their bombs the man in the speeding Taube would be apt to discount that sudden stoppage of the van, and try to drop his explosive so that it might strike them as their momentum ceased.

“Slow up somewhat,” he told the chauffeur. “And this time when I grip your arm put on every ounce of speed you can give. We’ll change our tactics.”

“Bully for you, Frank; a change of base is always a good thing!” said Billy, already lying down and starting to move his pretended gun around.

Once again the aëroplane was directly behind them. It was evidently a part of the scheme of their foes to follow after them, trying to keep in the same general course, so that the man who hurled the bomb would only have to consider the proper second to let it go.

They had also come down still lower, so that every movement could be seen distinctly.

Undoubtedly none of those boys would ever forget the grim appearance of those airmen bending forward to peer down at the fleeting motor truck on that road in Northern France. There was a peculiar grimness connected with their looks, togged out as they were in their customary air cruising clothes, and with goggles shielding their eyes that gave them a strange look.

Once again did Frank decide properly when the man was in the act of hurling the bomb. His fingers closed upon the arm of the van driver, who immediately started the cumbersome vehicle to moving forward as fast as the engine was capable of sending it.

A third crash made the air quiver, and brought out a shout from the irrepressible Billy.

“Too slow that time, Hans!” he whooped, as he continued to wave his make-believe gun; “knocked another hole in the poor old road, that’s what. At that rate they’ll have it all torn up between here and Dunkirk.”

“Will they give it up now, do you think, Frank?” wheezed Pudge, who had made it a point to actually hold his breath on each occasion just as though that was going to be of any benefit to him.

“Don’t flatter yourself that way, Pudge,” Billy hastened to say, taking it upon himself to answer; “they’ll never quit as long as there’s a single shot in the locker, believe me. We’ve just got to keep on dodging the same the best we know how.”

“Next time they may come so low down that they just can’t miss,” complained the fat chum, disconsolately.

“Huh! don’t you believe that, because they might have seen me taking aim with my gun here, and airmen don’t like to be peppered at close range. Chances are they’ll swoop down and let fly, but no hovering over us for them.”

Frank was busy trying to figure out what would be the next move on the part of those grim pursuers, who seemed so determined to accomplish the utter destruction of the wonderful seaplane that placed in the hands of the French was bound to be of material advantage to the cause they had at heart.

In doing this Frank tried to put himself in the place of the other. He figured out just what sort of a feint he would make in order to draw the fire of the van driver. Whether the vehicle stopped, or shot forward, he could then change his pace, and hurl the bomb.

So Frank again gave his instructions to the chauffeur.

“This time I think he’ll just pretend to throw, so as to make us show our hand,” was what he said. “Then when he believes he sees our intentions he’ll let it go. So first make out to stop; but when you feel me grip your arm a second time, speed up for all you’re worth. Understand all that, do you?”

The man said he did. Monsieur Le Grande too, openly declared he believed Frank had solved the intentions of the man above, basing his opinion on what he himself would have done under similar conditions.

“There they come!” announced the watchful Billy.

Pudge grunted, and tried to squeeze himself into as small a compass as possible. He evidently feared that he filled entirely too much space when deadly missiles were flying around in every direction, and that if anyone were injured it was bound to fall to him.

Billy and M’sieu watched the approach of the hostile aëroplane. It chased steadily after them keeping along the road which unfortunately at this point happened to be very straight, whereas more curves and bends would have been to the advantage of those who were being bombarded from the skies.

All this was very thrilling, but none of the three Aëroplane Boys fancied the strange experience. They realized that should they care to abandon the van they would not receive any injury; for the Germans were undoubtedly only trying to destroy the seaplane.

Nevertheless even Pudge would hardly have voted to forsake the Sea Eagle at this stage of the game. They had a certain affection for the big air traveler; and besides, their duty to the Company demanded that they stick to their task, which was to get the plane back into its hangar safe and sound, if such a thing were at all possible.

As the Taube came rapidly upon them they watched eagerly to see what would happen. Again the man who did the throwing of the bombs was seen to partly raise his arm, showing that he had another of those explosives ready for hurling.

Just at the critical second, as it seemed, Frank gave the chauffeur the signal to stop short. He already saw that the man above had made a swift motion with his upraised arm. It was very familiar as a trick to the American boys; how often had they seen the first baseman of the opposing team make the same feint when all the while he was holding the ball concealed, hoping to catch the runner off his base.

When however he saw the bomb-thrower make a duplicate movement he knew that this time it was coming.

So the second grip on the chauffeur’s arm told him to instantly start forward again at full speed. So sudden was the change made that the van gave a furious spurt such as would have possibly thrown the boys out only that they had prepared themselves against it.

For the third time Frank had hoodwinked the Germans in the Taube. This bomb also fell back of them quite as much as fifty feet. It struck on one side of the roadbed, but might have done more or less injury to the machinery of the big van, and compelled a stop that must have spelled new trouble for the boys, caused to abandon their charge because of the recklessness of staying further.

“Oh! I hope that exhausts all their ammunition,” was the prayer poor Pudge was heard to utter, when this last stunning report announced that once more they had escaped by a close shave from a terrible fate.

“Don’t hug that fond delusion to your heart, Pudge,” Billy told him, jeeringly; “they’d be more apt to start out with fifty such bombs along than just three or four. I’m hoping we’ll come up on some marching regiment of British going to the front, or even a field battery that could make the old Taube climb up half a mile or so in the air. We wouldn’t need to worry then, because they never could hit such a tiny mark away down here.”

Frank was thinking somewhat on similar lines. So long as there was nothing to prevent the Germans from making those swift swoops down toward them the peril must continue to hang heavy over their devoted heads.

He realized that it was always possible for the aviators to come so close to them that there would not be one chance in ten of a miss being made. Perhaps after all it might be fear of the gun which Billy was making out to wave that would save them in the end. Frank had on more than one occasion in the past known even smaller things than that to accomplish important feats.

If the danger continued he was inclined to exercise his authority and compel his chums to dismount so as to fall behind. In that way they would be out of the danger zone, while he stayed aboard with the chauffeur to try and baffle the plans of the enemy above.

And now once more the peril hovered over them. How Billy yearned to have a gun in his hands, and with what joy would he have started using it, in the hope of at least causing the Germans to climb to safer heights?

Frank had altered his plan of campaign again. He intended to keep them guessing as long as possible. This time he arranged with the chauffeur to start the car speeding, and then at the second signal to suddenly apply the brake and bring it to a standstill.

When the man above saw them starting off wildly he evidently judged that was meant to be their game, and so he sent the small but terrible bomb through space.

Frank knew when it left his hand, and at that same second he gripped the chauffeur, so that the car was instantly brought under control. The bomb struck ahead of them, alongside the road, and tore another hole in the ground.

Billy gave a shout as though in that way he might get rid of some of the pent-up emotion that was well nigh choking him.

“Never touched us!” he called out exultantly. “Better go back home and take a few more lessons. American boys are too swift for you fellows!”

“Don’t crow too soon, Billy,” advised Frank, who although naturally relieved for the moment, knew only too well that this new check would be apt to urge the determined Taube men to further exertions.

He himself was casting an anxious look along the road ahead, for Frank knew full well that their best chance for escaping the net that was being laid for their feet lay in the coming of friends who carried arms that must make the aviators give the hunt over as wasted time.

As before the birdmen made a circuit. They undoubtedly intended coming back again to try once more to drop a missile on the elusive van, and accomplish the mission on which they had been sent out.

Frank hardly knew what system of tactics to employ this time. He had tried them all, and would have to repeat. The best part of it was that the man above could not read his mind, and therefore would not be able to gauge his scheme in time to reap any benefit from it.

Then again it was likely that occasionally one of the bombs might be badly aimed, and fall over in the adjoining field. Frank was far from ready to give up. He would keep everlastingly at it, as long as the van driver could get his machine to obey his will, and there was a solitary chance for them to escape the destructive effects of those numerous explosions.

“This time I’ll call in your ear what I want you to do,” was what Frank told the pilot at the wheel. “But no matter whether it’s stop short, or rush ahead, do it as quick as a flash. Be ready now, for they’re almost up to the throwing point.”

As the birdmen were going the same way as the van it was necessary that they get almost overhead before undertaking to make a throw. The missile would then be given a forward movement calculated to cause it to reach a certain point aimed at.