Air Service Boys Flying for Victory/Chapter 18
CHAPTER XVIII
FAVORED BY FORTUNE
The Huns soon discovered that they were up against an intrepid enemy. When they so boldly attacked the Yankee fleet of raiders, as Jack expressed it in his boyish way, they had "bitten off more than they could chew."
They had dropped back a bit and were trying to annoy the Americans all they could with as little damage to themselves as possible. If their last stronghold was doomed to destruction under that rain of mighty bombs, any self-sacrifice on their part could not ward it off, and so what was the use?
The end seemed to be approaching, for the Boche plainly showed he had had enough of the fighting. One last combined attack all along the line that would likely put the enemy to flight, and then for the signal that would spell "homeward bound," a magical phrase with voyagers of the air just as it is with sailors of the salty seas.
Finally it came. The great battle was over. The air service boys rejoiced that the victory was won.
The roar of guns from below had ceased, and as the Yankees above could not find any enemy plane against which to pit their strength, they, too, no longer scurried this way and that, each one like an avenging Nemesis.
Looking down Jack was appalled at what he saw. It seemed almost as though the end of the world had come. Huge volumes of acrid smoke slowly swept along on the night air, with here and there a lurid tongue of angry flame, looking like a serpent's tongue, stabbing the gloomy curtain.
He had seen vivid pictures in colors of an eruption of Vesuvius, and to his mind this presented just such an appalling spectacle. There could never be any doubt regarding the awful power of those latest of Yankee bombs. The German stronghold that an hour before had stood in arrogant pride, meant to be a stumbling block in the path of Pershing's victorious army, had been so shattered that it would hardly be noticed in the general advance of the oncoming host of boys in khaki.
But there was the signal to gather once more in formation of twos for the homeward journey. There would always be a chance that the furious Huns might gather a fresh force of aerial fighters to make one last assault on the columns before admitting defeat; and it was to be ready for this that every possible precaution must be taken.
Then the fact became apparent that the return was not to be made with an undimished force. There were no longer exactly twenty planes to fill out the double column. Some were missing, having fallen in the last desperate attack of the foe, when a perfect whirlwind of fighting had taken place.
Tom noticed this almost immediately. At least one battleplane was absent, if not more, and the companion bomber that had occupied with them the place of honor at the tail of the procession also failed to come to its place. Perhaps the very plane he had watched drop and wondered about was one of these missing ones.
Jack, too, looked down upon that vast smudge of smoke and shooting flames with a new feeling gripping his heart. It no longer represented merely the disappointed hopes of a Hindenburg and a Ludendorff; it was not to be considered only a fortress annihilated by American pluck and ingenuity; there was a sadness in Jack's parting look now, and for a reason. Down there brave American boys had gone to their fate, after battling to their last breath for the right. In that blanket of smoke and amidst scattered stone and timbers they had found their tomb, nor would those loved ones far across the sea ever know where to look for their last resting place.
On the roll they would be marked simply as "lost when on perilous duty," and that brief inscription must ever be their epitaph. None more glorious was ever inscribed on monument of granite in a city's beautiful cemetery; and the Nation would always do honor to their memories.
But the air armada was off once more.
Jack put these thoughts from his mind. They had not expected to carry out their ambitious plans without incurring losses. The price had been paid, and those who cam.e through in safety might congratulate themselves on their good fortune.
Headed for the home camp they left that shambles behind them, for it seemed certain that many Huns must have perished when the fortress was destroyed so completely.
Then all at once Jack remembered something. Tom had almost as much as promised that if half a chance arose while on the way home he meant somehow or other to get "lost" from the main column.
It might not be very hard, seeing that they came at the tail of the procession, and those just ahead would hardly notice the fact if at some time or other they should lag, and vanish from sight. It might be taken for granted that they had simply fallen a little behind, and by putting on a spurt of speed could at any time easily catch up.
At any rate the expedition would not delay, waiting for those who tarried. In an affair of this kind the rule was "every tub on its own bottom," and if accidents occurred the unfortunate plane must drop out, and take its individual chance of getting through in safety.
Jack was wondering just how his chum would act in order to bring about this separation. Hence he was not greatly surprised when Tom called out aloud, so that he could make his voice heard above the incessant whirr of motors added to the buzz of many propellers that filled the air with noise:
"Jack, something seems to be wrong with our engine."
"You don't say!" ejaculated Jack, accompanying the remark with a wide grin; for he suspected that this was only the ruse he had been anticipating.
"I don't seem to be able to get along as smoothly as I did before," continued the pilot.
"Why, it's a fact that we are letting the others outrun us some, Tom. Wouldn't it be just too bad if they went off and left us in the lurch?"
"No joke about it, Jack. Something is really going wrong, and I imagine I'm getting a poor supply of gas. Take a look at the tank, will you, and see if it's all right!"
At that Jack ceased to chuckle. He realized from what the other said that he meant it seriously. Accordingly Jack bestirred himself to carry out the instructions of the pilot, which he was best able to do from his position aft.
A brief interval of silence followed, save for the constant hum of the machinery and the whirling propellers. Then Jack uttered a loud cry that expressed both astonishment and alarm.
"Tom, you guessed it!" he called. "The blooming tank is empty, and we're feeding on the scant reserve in the smaller tank!"
"Try to find out if a bullet cut a hole in the tank, and let our juice run out!" Tom now ordered.
Jack had already started an examination on his own account, and he almost immediately announced a finding.
"Just what happened, Tom!" came his cry, in a tone of dismay mingled with disgust. "Why, there are two holes, one far above the other! I reckon it came from below, after all. But the tank is empty, and only for that automatic feed change, meant for such an emergency, we'd have been running on hot air before now."
"There's not enough petrol in the small tank to take us home, Jack, I'm afraid," Tom called next.
"Then what?" demanded the other eagerly.
"Only one thing left to us, I'm thinking."
"What's that? You're the skipper of this craft, and I take my orders from you. Whatever you say goes."
"We'll have to pick out a nice even spot and land," said the pilot, in the most natural tone imaginable; for he had by now shut off some of his power, and the noise accordingly diminished.
"And try to get enough gas, some way or other, to see us safely on our way—is that the programme, Tom?" queried the observer.
"There's really no other way. If we keep straight on we're likely to be forced to drop right back of the Hun lines, where we'd be gobbled up as quick as a flash."
"Too bad, isn't it?" cried Jack, in mock tones of chagrin. "And, Tom, wouldn't it be queer now, if after we did drop down we should find that we'd actually landed close to a half ruined chateau that's perched on a hilltop, and occupied by a Hun general as headquarters?"
"That would be a strange coincidence, I should call it. Jack."
"But you say we've just got to land somewhere," urged the other.
"No other way out of the mess. It's either that or else take big risks of being captured just back of the Boche lines. Of the two, our chances are better here than there."
"Well, I bow to your judgment, Tom. You know best. But we'd better drop to a much lower level right away, hadn't we?"
"That goes without saying," replied the pilot, setting about taking a dip, at which he was very expert, "As it is now we can't see much of where we are; and the rest of the gang seem to have cleared out entirely. You can hear the stir of their passage getting fainter and fainter all the while."
"Well have to go pretty far down if we hope to glimpse anything of the character of the country in this poor light," Jack continued, "and, of course, it'll be necessary for you to pick out a clear place for a landing."
"Unless we can we stand to have a smash that'll just ruin everything," Tom cheerfully assured him.
They had begun to fall rapidly. Tom managed it so that this maneuver was carried out in the best possible way calculated to conserve their very limited stock of petrol.
Gradually they began to get a clearer view of the ground, which until then had only appeared in vague outlines to their eyes. Jack soon announced a discovery.
"I can begin to make out the trees in patches, Tom. And see there! That must be the river winding along like a snake over yonder. Didn't we decide that the chateau stood within sight of this very stream, Tom?"
"According to what that Lorrainer told me, it did; and on the left bank in the bargain," admitted Tom.
"Good! And unless I've lost my reckoning entirely I should say we're on the left bank of the river right now."
"Just what we are," came the reassuring answer. "I'm going to drop down another peg or two, so we can pick up some landmark and get our bearings settled. No use in groping about as if we were in a fog. I'll shut off most of our speed and just loaf along. We've got to make that gas see us through, you know, Jack."
"I hope it will, I certainly do!"
Presently the air service boys found themselves passing slowly along over the small ridge that seemed to run parallel with the winding Meuse, though at some little distance from it.