"Oh, I am so glad to see you. Brother asked for you before he left. If you are going to England, you must go to see him. He is at Hempstead."
"We expect to go to Paris tomorrow, and we are sorry not to be able to see him," Alfred told her.
They at once returned to Dunkirk, and awaited anxiously until four o'clock. Before they had an opportunity to speak to the officer in charge, he shook his head, to indicate that there was no room. They lingered about, but it appeared to be a hopeless task. Four tracks ran by the station office, and these were constantly filled with empty cars, then loaded up, and drawn out. They watched the proceedings until the sun went down, when tiredand hungry, they crossed the street, entered a coffee house, and ate a hurried supper.
As they were moving out the doorway, Ralph stopped. Turning to Alfred, he said: "We are chumps; that's about the size of it."
"Why so?" asked Alfred.
"We have the permits, haven't we? Why are we waiting for that fellow at the station to get us an assignment?" replied Ralph.
"That's a fact; let's make our own assignment; come on," answered Alfred. "Is this train going south?" he asked, addressing a soldier who was about to enter a half-filled compartment.
"Aw! I dare say it is," was the jolly response.
"Get aboard," said Alfred.
Unabashed, they swung themselves up on the running board, and entered the compartment. The occupants glanced at them for a moment, and seeing the trim uniforms, at once became inquisitive.
"How did you happen to be directed to this train?" asked one of them.
"Oh, we attended to that ourselves," said Alfred.
"Our permit's all right, but we couldn't wait for them to make up their minds when we ought to go; so here we are," said Ralph, with a laugh.
"Well, you fellows'll do; but it's a long way to Tipperary," said a voice, which trailed off into the tune of the well-known song. His companions chimed in, and it was not long before the occupants of the adjoining compartments joined inthe song. It was a jolly crowd, but no one seemed to know where they were going. All had heard of the rapid advance of the Germans toward Paris, and that General French was trying to impede their advance somewhere to the south.
It was fully nine o'clock that night before the train made a real start. Before that time they were pushed around on the various sidings for an hour, and it was a relief to see the fields and feel the continual motion of the train as it finally speeded away.
There was no time for talk now. Each tried to find a comfortable place in order to get some sleep. They dozed and dozed, as most people are liable to do in uncomfortable surroundings, and some hours afterwards an orderly appeared at the door, shouting:
"All out, men; form in ranks."
"I suppose we shall have to get out, too," said Alfred.
"Why, no; this can't be Paris," replied Ralph.
"I know bally well it isn't," said a voice.
That settled it; tired and sleepy they swung off the running board, and looked at the long lines forming at the side of the train.
"Do you know where we are?" asked Ralph, addressing a soldier at his side.
"Don't know, my boy; we've had a steady run, though, for about three hours," was the reply.
"We are east of St. Quentin; we passed through the city half an hour ago; this isn't much of a hill we are on, but the Germans and Frenchfought a battle on this very spot in the campaign of 1870-1," said an officer.
Alfred saluted the officer, and asked: "How far are we from Paris, sir?"
"I think it must be fully a hundred miles," was the reply.
The men were ordered to line up, and soon the order came to march. As the boys had no other place to go, and the train was even then backing toward the city, they marched alongside of the column. The tramp was across open fields for a half-mile, where a road was sighted, but it was lined with troops, and heavy artillery, going eastwardly.
The column continued on, parallel with the road. It was dry, dusty and warm. There was a hum of sounds, and occasionally a boom or two, which the boys recognized from their previous experiences. The most emphatic voices were those of the drivers, who were piloting the horses drawing the artillery and caissons. An hour's march brought them to a small stream, which was crossed without waiting for boats or hunting for bridges, as it was easily waded.
Across the stream they ascended an elevation, at the crest of which was a line of soldiers busily at work with spades and pick-axes. Trenches were being formed. They were cheered by the workers, but there was no halting. On they went over level ground, only to meet another line of men similarly engaged. Several hundred feet beyond an order came like a shot: "Halt!"
An orderly came riding up at full speed, and looked around. "We are waiting for orders, I suppose," remarked a lieutenant.
The orderly put spurs to his horse, and rode to the right, as he espied a group of horsemen. "Form your men along this line, and dig in," he directed.
The order was given: "File to the right; halt; stack arms."
Several lorries, which had been following them, came up, and at a word of command the men began to unload shovels and picks. This began to look like business. It was now growing light, but it still lacked a half hour before sunrise.
"Why can't we lend a hand?" inquired Ralph.
"Of course we can," answered Alfred.
They were alongside in an instant. Ralph jumped into the vehicle, and helped to hand out the implements, while Alfred tried to edge his way in. Their earnestness attracted the officer in charge, and he smiled, and nodded his head in approval. Thus two van loads were dumped out, and carried forward of the rows of stacked arms.
An engineer officer marked out the line of the trench, and the men were set to work. They were now doing the job for arealpurpose, as during their month of training in England these men had been instructed how to go about the business of making trenches, and it was wonderful to see how quickly the furrows were dug out. They were about four feet deep, the earth being thrown upon the side toward the enemy, thus making a shelter trench five feet deep.
As soon as the main line was thus completed, traverses were cut, leading out at right angle to the rear of the main trench. These were formed in zig-zag fashion, the object being to form shelter sections along the entire trench, so that those within would not be subjected to what is called an enfilading fire.
"Look at the guns back there," shouted Ralph, as the company marched back to get their first breakfast after three hours of hard work.
"Come on, boys!" said the corporal in charge, smiling at the boys. "You've worked pretty hard for lads of your age; come and have something to eat."
"So we will," said Alfred; "but what are the guns doing back there?" he asked, as he pointed out a battery which had limbered up and was wheeling into position.
"You will see in a few moments," replied the corporal, and before they reached the mess wagon the guns began to roar.
"How far away are the Germans?" asked Ralph.
"About two and a half miles, I should judge," replied the corporal, looking at the battery.
"How can you tell by looking at the guns?" asked Ralph.
"By their angle," was the answer.
Before they ceased speaking, the first shot wasfired, then another and another, all of them trial shots, as one of the soldiers explained. Then another battery to the left, heretofore unnoticed, began to fire, while one posted higher up on the right, and two more beyond, chimed in. This was a new experience to the boys, as the Belgians, with whom they had formerly associated, were lacking in field pieces compared with those they now saw and heard.
The challenge was promptly accepted by the Germans, and within fifteen minutes the whole crest to the east of them, probably two miles distant, seemed to be ablaze. It was singular, however, that none of the missiles fell near the troops where the boys were located. On a little elevation to the right of the kitchen vans the boys noticed a group of officers with field glasses, intently scanning the rear of their position.
"The blooming blokes are shooting too far," remarked a soldier.
"Why are they doing that?" asked Alfred, who overheard him.
"Oh, they'll get the range in time," he replied.
"There's the first airship, to give them a pointer," said the corporal, as an airplane appeared in sight.
"Two of our machines are coming up," shouted Ralph. "Now there'll be a fight."
Ralph was right. The two English machines steered straight for the oncoming Fokker, the latter veering to the left in time to prevent too close a meeting. Within a minute three more Germanmachines came into sight, their appearance being answered by four of their own machines, which came up from the rear, and sailed straight across above them to the German positions on the crest of the hill. They were much higher than the German machines, the reason being that the enemy had a number of anti-airship guns to meet any flyers who dared to cross the line at a low altitude.
It was, indeed, an interesting sight to observe the numerous airplanes, which were employed by the two forces. They seemed to be flying back and forth in the utmost confusion, and, frequently, puffs of smoke would indicate that they were firing at each other.
The corporal with whom the boys talked seemed to be unusually well informed, and quite a number of the soldiers addressed him for information.
"How do they recognize an enemy?" asked Ralph.
"Oh, that's an easy matter," he replied. "I suppose the flyers in the air do it on the same principle that we are in the habit of recognizing automobiles. Why, I have a lad not ten years old who can tell the make of almost any auto the moment he sees it. Generally, if the make of the plane is similar to those attached to the aviator's side he is able to recognize it by the special mark it carries."
"What mark do you mean?" asked Alfred.
"Why, the English and the French mark is inthe form of a circle, generally three, each circle being of a different color," was the answer.
"There is one,—why, it's red, white and blue," said Ralph.
"That's correct,—those are the colors of the Allies."
"What are the German colors?" asked Ralph.
Allies' Distinguishing MarkAllies' Distinguishing Mark
"Black and white," said the corporal.
"Oh, yes, they have a cross," said Alfred.
"Yes; a cross in imitation of the iron cross, so far as its shape is concerned," he answered; "that is, a black cross on a white field."
The company marched back to the line. During the next half hour there was nothing but expectancy, waiting, waiting,—that most trying thing for soldiers, who know that a battle is impending. Then a hundred feet to their rear there was a terrific explosion, which startled every one.This was followed by others, but none reached the trench line.
Thus, during the whole day, there was an exchange of artillery, the greatest damage being done to those in the rear who were trying to get to the front.
"With the long range guns the great danger isn't always with the fellows in front," said the corporal.
Black Cross on German FlyersBlack Cross on German Flyers
At four that afternoon the company was startled by an order to leave the trenches and fall to the rear. Every one cast questioning glances, but the knapsacks and rolls were quickly seized, and within ten minutes they were in line with the regiments to the right and the left. There was no hurrying or disorder.
"I wonder why we are going back?" asked Ralph.
"I suppose it's our business to retreat," returned the corporal.
They marched fully a mile to the rear, passing on the way at least half a dozen lines of trenches, which had been thrown up since the boys covered the ground the night before. Every trench line was filled with soldiers, those in the front being the first to retire. On the way they saw how the great shells had played havoc with many of the works.
They again crossed the river, and at six o'clock that night a new line was formed, and the spades and picks were again brought into use. The booming of cannon was incessant, and, although they tried to get some sleep after midnight, they were frequently aroused by the marching of troops. At daylight they were again marched out of the trenches, and a quarter of a mile from the last trench halted to partake of breakfast.
The march was directly south, and at noon they reached a town of some importance, called Chauny. They went through without halting, crossed the river Oise, and at four o'clock halted on the eastern banks of a stream, which flowed northwardly. Here they waited for orders. A picturesque bridge spanned the stream, and the boys wandered across. West of the river was a broad expanse of country, perfectly level, and thousands of people from the nearby villages lined the road, all crossing to the west.
All were excited, and seemed to be going toward the narrow road, which led to the left, and, naturally, the boys followed the movement of the crowd. Their curiosity was soon satisfied, forbeyond was a sight which caused their hearts to beat with joy. Fully a dozen airplanes were drawn up in line, and the boys started forward on a run that seemed to instill the same activity in many others present.
"There's a Morane," said Ralph.
"Yes; and that's Tom getting out of the machine," shouted Alfred, as they rushed up and greeted Tom, who looked at them in astonishment.
"And how did you get here?" he inquired.
"Came over with the troops," explained Alfred.
"With what troops?" he was asked.
"Don't know," answered Ralph, "but they are from Essex."
"Well, we've been on duty for a day directly over the lines east of St. Quentin," said Tom.
"Did you have a fight?" asked Alfred.
"I should say we did," answered Tom. "Brought down two, at any rate, and it was pretty hot for about an hour. So you are on your way to Paris; sorry you didn't get back before we started," he added.
"We got to the grounds several hours after you left," said Alfred.
"Glad you came; we can put you up, if you are willing," remarked Tom.
"Thank you for the invitation; we helped them on the trenches and have done considerable marching, so it's better than going back to camp," said Ralph.
The boys were up early in the morning, butdidn't have the least idea what steps to take to continue their journey. Everything in the way of transportation was reserved for the troops. Thousands of people were leaving their homes, and people with household effects, mounted on all sorts of conveyances, were noted on all sides, although at this time the Germans were not within ten miles of the river. The nearest railway to the south, which ran east and west along the southern bank of the river Aisne, was fully ten miles distant from this point.
Tom was on hand early, and greeted the boys most affectionately.
"I have been thinking I might be able to help you out a bit," he said, after a little talk. "We are ordered to the station near Villers-Cotterets, and that's only forty miles from Paris."
"How can you help us?" inquired Ralph excitedly.
"Probably I can give you a lift in the machine," he said.
"How far is that from here?" asked Alfred.
"Twenty miles," replied Tom, and the two boys looked at each other hopefully, as he left them.
Tom re-appeared at three o'clock, and informed them that they would start in fifteen minutes.
"If you are ready for the trip, jump in and make yourselves comfortable," he said, and they required no second invitation.
The dainty Morane just suited them, and they were in their seats in an instant. Tom then tossed them a light package, which they tucked away, andthe engine began to buzz. As they glanced around, two more machines seemed to vie with them in taking the air, then, as they again looked around, four more machines began to move, and soon all were on the wing, flying side by side, excepting two large Farman machines, which were well in the lead.
Up, up, up, they went, the machines on line with each other maintaining a height of about four thousand feet, while the Farmans were about five hundred feet higher. Within a half hour they saw in the distance what appeared to be a silver ribbon running east and west, which proved to be the river Aisne, and to the east they saw the city of Soissons. The beautiful aviation ground was reached within an hour, and they alighted in front of a magnificent group of hangars in the center of well-tilled fields, so located as to afford a view in all directions from the grounds. The machine was then put up for the night, and Tom and the boys were glad to turn in for a much-needed rest.
It was now the first day of September, and there had been nearly one month of war. The immense German forces had hewn their way through Belgium and entered France, reaching the cities of Laon, Epernay, and Chalons-sur-Marnek, thus forming a huge circle. They were within forty-five miles of Paris.
When the boys awoke the next morning the first words that greeted them were: "The Germans are within five miles of Soissons."
They rushed over to the hangar, but the machineand Tom were not to be found. This was another source of grief to them, and they stared about, and wondered at this new turn of affairs until, meeting an attendant, Ralph inquired:
"Do you know where the Morane has gone?"
"They all started on a reconnoitering trip at five this morning," was the reply.
"Do you think they will come back here?" asked Alfred.
"That is doubtful," answered the man.
"Then we shall have to make our way to Paris as best we can," said Ralph. "Do you think we would have any chances on the railroad?"
"It's doubtful. I should take my chances over the highway directly south, if I wanted to make Paris," answered the man. Then, after a little reflection, he added: "A large English force is expected to be here from Laon, and it may arrive before noon. Possibly the flyers will return, but if the German forces are too close, they will go on to the next station at Crepy, directly south of this place."
"Then that's the place for us," proposed Alfred, as he thanked their informant.
They had no trouble in getting breakfast and after waiting for an hour, during which all sorts of rumors were floating about, they concluded that their only course would be to commence the trip. It was not necessary for them to inquire the way, as the highway, in the distance was filled with fugitives, all trying to get to Paris, or, at least, to avoid the invaders while there was yet time.
Reaching the highway, they moved along with the procession, and, shortly before twelve o'clock, reached Crepy, ten miles from Soissons. They were now twenty-five miles from the center of Paris, and after getting a good meal they again took up the march over a beautiful road, which ran southeast.
A mile from the town they came within sight of a cross road, filled with an immense concourse, which seemed to be wending its way east. Approaching nearer, they recognized troops, artillery and horsemen, the latter moving along in the fields parallel with the roadway.
"It seems to me the firing is much nearer than when we started out this morning," said Ralph.
As they passed through the marchers, and proceeded along the highway, they saw that troops were noticed posted everywhere, and that batteries were lying in wait in every advantageous spot.
"I think we made a mistake in taking this road. We should have traveled the one which went to the west," said Ralph.
"Then let's go out the first road that crosses this," replied Alfred.
Meanwhile the sounds of battle came nearer and nearer. The artillery posted on the elevation began to speak, and before there was time to realize it the boys were within the battle zone, and bearing down on the road along which they were traveling.They had no trouble, however, in leaving the road, as all the fences were down, and many of the fields were cut up with the hoofs of horses, and creased by the huge artillery wheels.
To add to the confusion, shells began to fall all about them, and occasionally a terrific explosion would follow, leaving them dazed and startled. They ascended a hill, and, looking back, saw nothing but dense clouds of smoke, and a scene of indescribable confusion.
"What's that down there?" shouted Alfred, pointing to a group of vans close by the side of a stream.
"That must be a Red Cross station; so it is," said Ralph.
Their footsteps were hurried, but before the place was reached they saw stretcher bearers, and also noticed the wounded being unloaded from a field van. Glancing to the left they saw fully a dozen vans of like character, as indicated by the great red crosses on their sides, rushing up the narrow street from the southeast.
"Let's give them a hand," said Alfred.
A business-looking surgeon stood at the rear end of one of the vans, as the boys approached. They saluted. "Can we do anything to help out?" asked Ralph.
The doctor looked at them for a moment, apparently non-plussed at their appearance.
"Yes, indeed; we need you and many more willing ones like you."
"What shall we do?" asked Alfred.
The surgeon drew a pad from his pocket, wrote a few words on it, handed it to the boys, and said: "Present this to the officer yonder."
The officer indicated received the slip, while directing the disposition of a wounded soldier, glanced at it hurriedly, then looked at the boys. "Ah, want to get on duty? We can accommodate you; there, put those stretchers in the van. One of you can take this to the supply van," he said. Ralph seized the paper, and looked about.
"The van with the flag on it," explained the officer.
Ralph rushed across the intervening space, and presented the paper to a Red Cross nurse, who smiled sweetly as she glanced at the paper, and looked inquiringly at Ralph. She then turned, seized three packages, and handed them to Ralph, while he thanked her and quickly rushed away. The packages were stored in the van, water was supplied to the containers in the vehicle, and the moment the last article was on board, the van started.
The boys were both within, as well as three men and a surgeon. They had heard no orders, but knew they were bound for the battlefield. There was no talking indulged in. The men were too intently engaged in listening to the din of the conflict, and watching the soldiers moving to and fro.
"Has there been much of a fight?" asked Ralph.
"They have been at it all morning," said one of the men. Then, glancing at the boys, he continued:"But this is a bad place for you youngsters."
"I am afraid you will regret it before you return. The scenes are awful," continued the man.
"We know what it is," said Alfred. "We saw the worst kind of fighting in Belgium."
French and German Flags
"We were with the English in the battle east of Soissons, and had some experience there," said Ralph.
"Aren't you English?" asked the surgeon.
"Oh, no; we're Americans," replied Alfred.
At this point a lieutenant rode up alongside, and shouted: "There has been a tough scrap at the mill; we have driven the Germans back; take this road down to the river; you will find plenty of poor fellows there who will need you."
The French had made a terrific charge at this point, and many were lying dead, where the van slowed down, so as to give the surgeon and helpers an opportunity to pick out the wounded cases.
Wherever there was a movement in a prone figure the men stopped and made an examination. In some cases the wounds were hurriedly dressed, and the victim's position rendered comfortable. In other cases the surgeon motioned to the helpers, who quickly brought the stretchers, and carried the wounded into the van.
On this single trip they attended, or gave first aid to thirty, but only the most severely injured were taken into the van, which now turned and quickly speeded along the narrow road to the field hospital. Reaching this station the men were carefully taken out, their wounds re-examined, and carried into a temporary shelter for a second operation or treatment.
A huge van then arrived from the southwest. Carefully and tenderly eight men were placed on the cots within, the boys being delegated to assist. When the order was given to leave, the boys remained in the van, as it started out on its journey, but they didn't have the least idea where it was bound, although you may be sure they were curious to know.
After every one had settled down,—that is, if such a thing as quiet and comfort were possible in a van load of wounded men, Ralph turned to the surgeon, and said. "Where are we going?"
"To Paris, if we can get through," was the reply.
The van had a wonderful set of springs, so that, although it was necessary hour after hour to go through fields, instead of traveling along the road,there was little discomfort to the wounded men.
"Why are the men being taken to Paris?" asked Alfred.
"So as to relieve the emergency station behind the battle front," explained the surgeon. "That is one thing; the other is, that the great German forces are driving in our comparatively small army, until the Paris forts are reached. There they will be stopped, and we must take our wounded with us, and out of the reach of the enemy."
At Dammartin they saw the first Red Cross railway van,—an entire train load, filled with wounded from the emergency stations, and here also they were joined by fifteen vans taking the wounded on to the city. It was thus a fortunate stroke for the boys that they undertook to help the field hospital workers, for it directly assisted them in their effort to reach the end of their journey.
Traveling was slow, and many detours were necessary, so it was not until the fourth day of September that they caught sight of the walls of Paris, and they soon had the pleasure of driving over the beautiful smooth streets again. They went directly to the center of the city, passed down the rue de l'Opéra, through the Place de la Concorde, and over the bridge to a hospital near the Place des Invalides.
Their charges in the van were soon provided for, and carried into comfortable berths. As they were leaving the ward, they heard a weak voice calling: "Ralph; Alfred."
They were startled, and turned around with wondering glances. A nurse motioned to them, and pointed toward a figure with bandaged head and arms. They approached.
"You don't know me, I suppose?" said the voice.
"No,—no," said Ralph.
"I believe it's Tom," said Alfred.
"Right," said the voice.
The boys knelt down at his side at once. "How did it happen?" asked Alfred.
"Well, they got me first; but I brought down two of them before I was hit," Tom told them.
"What became of the machine?" was Alfred's next question.
"I don't remember anything about it," was the reply, "but they told me it made fine kindling wood."
"Too bad!" consoled Alfred. "I liked that little Morane; and to think it's all broken up."
"How did you get here?" asked Tom.
"Why, we came down with the Red Cross people," explained Ralph.
"You seem to get into all sorts of trouble, all along the line," said Tom with an attempt to laugh.
"But are you badly hurt?" inquired Alfred anxiously.
"The doctors say that there are only a few bones broken, several joints wrenched out of shape, and some of the bark peeled off, but I ought to be out in a few weeks," said Tom.
"Tell us what we ought to do now?" Alfred asked him.
"What do you mean?"
"Why, I want to know whether they will expect us to keep on in the Red Cross service?"
"You volunteered, didn't you?" replied Tom. "You helped them out of your free will, and you can leave whenever you want to, if that's what you are getting at."
"I wouldn't mind volunteering in the aviation corps," said Ralph. "I would just like——"
"So they got you this time, eh?" said a voice.
The boys turned, and saw a handsome man with the uniform of a lieutenant in the aviation service, who approached, and leaned over Tom. Tom replied with a smile, and raising his injured hand, pointed to the boys.
"Lieutenant," he said, "I want you to get acquainted with two of my American friends, who have been in the thick of it right from the start. Now you'll be conferring a special favor if you can take them in to help you out. Oh, they're bricks," continued Tom, as he saw a shade of discouragement in the lieutenant's features, "they are made of the right stuff."
"We leave for Verdun in the morning," said the lieutenant, "but I will see what can be done in the meantime."
As they left the hospital the first thought was to go to the Continental Hotel to try to get a trace of Alfred's father. Arriving there a letter was handed them, together with two telegrams fromBerne, Switzerland, one of the messages having been received that very day. The missives informed him that his father had not been able to leave German territory until the twenty-eighth of August, and as he had received word that the Germans were approaching Paris he thought it unwise to make the trip to that point, but would await word from them before deciding what to do.
"How far is it from Berne to Verdun?" Alfred asked the clerk.
"About three hundred kilometers," was the reply.
"Let's see; that's about two hundred miles," said Alfred. "And it's a hundred and fifty miles to Verdun.
"Then we'll go to Verdun," said Ralph. "But how?"
The subject was debated for an hour, when it was decided to return to the hospital. They had forgotten to learn the lieutenant's name, although probably Tom knew how to reach him, they reasoned.
Arriving at the hospital they learned that Tom was asleep, and that no one would be permitted to see him, so they wandered around without the slightest idea what course to pursue. They even discussed the feasibility of walking to Verdun, but that idea was soon abandoned.
"I wonder where the aviation grounds are?" remarked Ralph.
They soon learned that several corps were located at the great race course in the Bois de Boulogne,and they were soon on the underground railway speeding to the nearest station in that vicinity. Arriving at the grounds they approached the entrance, and their hearts sank as they saw a great crowd gathered, and one after the other turned away.
"Chances of getting in seem to be pretty slim," said Alfred.
"Well, we might try it, anyhow," said Ralph, as he pushed forward.
They marched up to the gate, and passed through without the least objection on the part of the guards. This was the greatest surprise to both. They had forgotten that the uniforms they wore gave them admittance without question. Evidently they were taken for army messengers.
"See that American flag?" shouted Ralph.
"That's the place for us," replied Alfred.
Accordingly, they lost no time in making for the hangar on which the emblem appeared. They saw a Farman machine partly outside of the hangar, and in the body of it was seated a ruddy-faced chap.
"What's up?" he asked.
"Came over to help you out," said Alfred.
He looked down, and slowly said: "You did, eh?"
"Well, we've seen a little active service at the front, so far," explained Ralph, "been in battle several times, have been captured by the Germans, helped to build trenches, worked with the Red Cross people, and had a few flights in an airplane,and as we like aviation business best of all, we thought we'd come over and go to work."
The airman raised himself, sat down on the side of the car body, and commenced to laugh, although Ralph's remark was said without the least tinge of pride or boasting. Several from the adjoining hangars came in to learn the cause of the boisterous mirth.
"Well, that's fresh enough to come from real American boys," he said, after he had sobered down a little.
"That's right; we're from the United States; we came here because we saw the flag on the outside; what shall we do the first thing?" said Alfred.
"From America?" said the man, climbing down from the machine. "And you are regular Yankees? Well, well; that's too good! I'm something of an American myself. By jingo, you're the kind of fellows to have around. Want a job? Where did you get your uniforms? They look all right."
"Oh, these are Belgian uniforms. We were with them, you know, and had a pretty hot time, too," said Ralph.
This information, as they now knew, was the best credential possible, and they were soon the center of an admiring crowd. Somehow the determined matter of fact and positive way which the boys adopted had the effect of winning their way, and it was thus that they had the satisfaction of entering a service which it is a most difficultthing to do even with the best credentials.
The happiness of the boys was complete when their new friend told them to get up on the machine, and help him to take out the engine. Coats came off in a hurry, and they looked around for some substitute to protect their clothing.
Their friend supplied the necessary articles at once remarking as he did so that he ought to know their names.
After this information was supplied, he remarked: "My name is Martin; Bill Martin, Fifth Aviation Corps; don't forget the Corps or you may have trouble in getting into the grounds; and, by the way, how did you happen to get through?"
"If you mean the gates, why, we just walked right through," said Alfred.
"Just as though you had a right to do so!" said Martin, as he again commenced to laugh. "You said you were up in an airplane; where was that?"
"Up at Dunkirk, and back of the firing line, south of the St. Quentin," said Ralph.
"Do you know Tom Watkins?" asked Alfred.
"Do I know Tom? Why, we came over together; poor fellow, he got a bad fall," said Martin.
"We heard about it and saw him at the hospital today," said Alfred.
"You don't say? So you've been flying with Tom? I'm glad to know that," said Martin, as he nodded his head approvingly.
For three days more the boys wandered about Paris,—three days of the most fearful suspense; and then began the battle of the Marne. Every airplane in and about Paris was at the front, on the line somewhere, and the boys were deprived of the opportunity to see the new friend they had made at the Bois de Boulogne station.
They were so sure of being able to go to Verdun that Albert wrote to his father of their plans, in the hope that he would consider it wise to leave Switzerland for that point, where they might meet.
The Germans had been defeated; Paris was safe, the French line having held firmly all the way to Verdun. The determination to go there was firmly fixed in their minds, but they could see no way to accomplish the purpose. A visit to Tom at the hospital only resulted in their being told that the lieutenant was in the field, no one knew where.
"I have an idea," said Ralph, as they emerged from their room one morning.
"What is it?" asked Alfred.
"We might get attached to the Red Cross someway, and that would be sure to take us to the front," replied Ralph.
"That would be just as hard as to get in with the flying people," answered Alfred.
"That may be so, too, but I can't see any other way."
They again called at the Continental Hotel in the hope that there might be some further news. To their surprise they found a letter from Alfred's father with a check for their personal expenses. While reading the letter they overheard a conversation which gave them the solution, as they thought, of their difficulties.
"No," said a voice, "they will not ticket us to any point near the firing line, but we might go to St. Dizier, and from there work our way north."
"Good idea; let's book at once," said the second voice.
"Come on," said Alfred. "That's the right tip. Let's find out where St. Dizier is."
The clerk informed them: "It is about a hundred and sixty miles east of Paris."
"Then it can't be far from Verdun," remarked Alfred.
"Sixty miles southwest, I should judge," was the answer.
"Do you think we would have any trouble in reaching that point?" asked Ralph.
"I think the trains are still running, but they may not adhere to the regular schedule. The line runs south of the war zone, you know," said the clerk.
That settled it. They hurried to the Banque Française, and having secured currency for the check, started for the booking office as fast as they could walk. It was impossible at this time to get a conveyance as only the underground railways and a few tram cars were in service, the government having requisitioned all the horses, and automobiles a week previous to this time.
They booked second class, the official stating that the tickets were sold at the risk of the holders, and that they would have to take their chances on the trains, so they were at the eastern railway station before one o'clock, in the hope that the regular through train at two that day would be able to accommodate them. In this they were disappointed, so they waited about until five o'clock, and had the good fortune to have the tickets accepted by the gateman.
They passed through an immense crowd of newly arrived soldiers, and were jostled about by hosts of men, women and children who were departing for the southeast, most of them bound for Chaumont. Within an hour they finally found a train bound for their destination, but it was another hour before the train began to move.
The trip was a weary one all through the night, as they seemed to stop at every station, although it was the fast express. The intense excitement of the people all along the line; the passing of trains; the crying out of the latest news; and the bustle of the new arrivals in the already crowded compartments, made sleep impossible. The sunhad been up two hours before the station of St. Dizier was announced.
The boys were out and scampering along the platform ahead of most of the crowd. As they passed out the end of the station they noticed a sign on a train: "For Bar-le-Duc, 10 o'clock."
"Let's see where that place is," said Alfred.
The information was obtained. It was twenty kilometers northeast.
"That's the place we must go; it's twenty miles toward Verdun, and now is our time," said Ralph.
"Let's have something to eat first," said Alfred.
After the meal they booked for Bar-le-Duc, and this train started promptly. Only two coaches were reserved for civilians, the others being filled with soldiers. The town, which was reached shortly before noon, had the appearance of an armed camp. Here they received the startling news that the Germans were at St. Mihiel, thirty-five miles northeast of that place.
There was no sign of panic there, however. Verdun, Toul and Nancy were still intact, and there was no fear that either place would yield.
Before they had been in the city an hour they saw a dozen or more airplanes overhead, and it was not long thereafter until they learned that one of the most famous stations belonging to the flyers was located north of the place. A conveyance was readily obtained, as a line of busses paralleled the railway track, and in another hour theywere on the plateau where the great hangars were located.
As they were crossing the field, and approaching the first tier of hangars the boys noticed the two men whose conversation had been overheard in the Continental hotel. "They are the very men," said Alfred; "I wonder what they are here for?"
The men stopped and looked at the boys for an instant. Ralph approached them and said, with a smile: "You beat us here after all."
The men appeared to be puzzled at being thus addressed. Alfred saw that they did not understand Ralph's greeting, and said: "We are under obligations to you for telling us how to get here, and I want to thank you."
"I don't exactly understand," said one of the men.
"We heard you talking about making this trip, and as we wanted to get to the front without knowing just how to do it, your conversation helped us out," said Ralph.
"I'll bet you're American boys," said one of them, laughing.
"Indeed, we are," said Alfred.
"Belong to the service?" asked the other.
"Oh, yes," answered Ralph,—"that is, we did belong to it."
"Which branch?" asked the man.
"Messenger service in Belgium, aviation and trench service with the English, and Red Cross in the French army," answered Alfred.
This response was answered by hearty laughter on the part of both men, and one of them responded: "That is a pretty comprehensive service, I should say."
"Where are you from?" asked the other.
"New York," answered Ralph. "Why, you look like Americans, too."
"We're from the same place," was the answer.
"And you look like newspaper men," remarked Alfred.
"That's a good guess," was the reply. "But how did you know?" he asked.
"I saw you taking notes as we walked across the field," answered Alfred.
"Good inference," he replied. "Are you looking for a job?"
"Yes, we're going into the aviation service," answered Ralph, with all the assurance of a winner.
"See you again," was the final reply, as the two men left them.
"Now, I wonder if they have any American flags at this place?" remarked Ralph.
They marched back and forth without a sign of that much desired emblem. At one of the hangars two men were tugging at a machine, and slowly bringing it out of the hangar. Without a word the boys sprang forward and assisted in the operation, an act which brought thanks from the men. Then, more in curiosity than anything else, they slowly walked around the machine and examined its construction.
The aviator watched them for a few moments. Evidently, to his mind, the boys knew all about flying machines, or, at least, must have had some acquaintance with them. This seemed to interest him, and he began a conversation with them. He soon learned their history, and bestowed words of praise on them for what they had done.
"So you want to be aviators, eh?" he inquired.
"Yes, and we'll do anything to get in," said Alfred.
"To be aviators in the service of the Government it will be necessary to take the Regulation course," said the man.
"There isn't time for that," said Ralph. "We can help out now, even if we don't do any flying, can't we?"
The man chuckled. "I suppose you can tighten up bolts, examine, and stretch the stay wires, and things like that?" he remarked.
"As well as take out the engine and overhaul it," added Ralph.
"Well, yes; that's a pretty good job; do you think you could do that?" he asked.
"Why, yes; we know something about it," replied Ralph.
"Well, stay around here; we want some handy fellows; but I'm afraid you'll have a hard job to get on the pay roll," he added.
"Never mind about that end of it; we want to be doing something; that's the main thing," said Alfred.
It would not be interesting to go through thelong details of work that the boys entered into under those circumstances. Each day for more than two months the boys found plenty of work to do. They became general favorites at the camp, and while their services were not recognized in an official way, as the regulations did not permit of the employment of minors, still, in view of the fact that they had such an interesting history, and had entered into the work with such zest the commandant at the station permitted them to remain, and eventually provided them with rations and quarters, to which was added a small pay, such as attached to those in the messenger service.
During this period the boys had many opportunities to go aloft on practice drills, and on more than one occasion they had the privilege of operating the machines while in flight, accompanied, of course, by the regular pilots. Attached to the station were a half-dozen machines used for the purpose of teaching control, and to enable pupils to become familiar with the handling of the machines. They were designed merely to skim the ground, the power being so limited that they could not be raised from the ground except for very short glides. These the boys frequently used, and the experienced aviators were greatly pleased at their wonderful progress. It was a strict rule, however, that none but regularly licensed aviators should pilot the government machines, and that prohibited them from handling the machines on regular service.
It was during the second week of the thirdmonth that the boys had the first opportunity of showing their capabilities. During a trial flight with sub-lieutenant Guyon, while at an altitude of five thousand feet, Ralph noticed the machine dart downwardly, and, glancing back, saw Guyon's head fall forward, and his hand drop from the lever.
Without waiting to inform Alfred he crawled out of the pit, and seizing the control lever, pushed it back in time to bring the ship to an even keel. Alfred saw the motion, and followed Ralph. Together they succeeded in drawing the pilot to one side, thus enabling Ralph to let himself down into the position which enabled him to handle the lateral controls, that were operated by the feet.
With Ralph thus fully in control of the machine, Alfred turned his attention to poor Guyon, who tried to raise his head, and occasionally gasped, as though trying to recover his breath. It was not until the machine was nearing the earth that he opened his eyes, and seemed to realize his position, but he was too weak to give any instructions or render assistance.
Ralph made a good landing, and the moment the machine ceased to move Alfred jumped from it, and ran to the office of the surgeon.
"Something is the matter with the lieutenant!" he cried, as he entered the door.
"What is the trouble? Where is he?" asked the surgeon, as he moved out of the door in response to Alfred's appeal.
"He was taken sick while we were in the air," said Alfred.
"And how did you happen to get down safely?" asked the surgeon.
"We took charge of the machine," replied Alfred.
"Who arewe?" he asked.
"Ralph and myself; we were up with him."
The lieutenant was being taken from the machine when the surgeon arrived. Restoratives were at once applied, and within a half hour the attack seemed to wear itself away, and he began to show a normal color.
His eyes rested on Alfred when he awoke from the first quiet nap, and raising his hand approvingly said: "That was a good job, Alfred; couldn't have been better."
"What do you mean?" asked Alfred.
"You brought us down all right, I mean," he replied.
"Oh, Ralph did that," was the reply of Alfred.
"Well, no matter; you fellows didn't get rattled; that's the main thing," said the lieutenant.
An incident of this kind could not remain a secret long in a camp of this character. The Commandant took particular occasion to commend them for their performance, and it was a long step in their favor when the corps moved to the north to take its place in the great aviation camp directly south of Verdun.
Two days after the occurrence related in the preceding chapter, the first section of the Corps was ordered to proceed to the Verdun station. Lieutenant Guyon belonged to this part of the force, and, as he had now recovered, was instrumental in securing the assignment of the boys to his care.
"Then we can go along?" asked Ralph, with some doubts and misgivings, as they were packing the belongings of the lieutenant.
"I have arranged that," said the lieutenant.
"What is that?" asked Alfred, who appeared at the door of the hangar.
"We are going," shouted Ralph.
"Yes; you might as well get your things packed and put them in the machine," said the lieutenant.
The boys laughed, for outside of a few trinkets, and underclothing, they had nothing of importance to take along. They remarked that it was singular how few things seemed to be really needed, traveling, as they did, from place to place at a moment's notice.
"When do you intend to start?" asked Ralph.
"Whenever we are ready," was the reply. "We intend to leave in squadron formation and manoeuver for an hour, and afterwards each is to make for the station on his own hook."
Shortly thereafter the first signal was given. The machine was pushed out and lined up. At the second signal the machines were mounted. At the third tap the motors began to hum, and soon there was a movement in the whole line. It was a splendid spectacle, as the machines left the ground, and rose majestically toward the west, the direction from which the wind was blowing.
The manoeuvers were particularly interesting to the boys, and the lieutenant led his section in the formation during the entire practice until the captain's flag on the great Duperdessun indicated that the machines were free. After making a great sweep to the west the lieutenant turned to the left, encircling the town, and pointed due east.
Before they had proceeded fifteen kilometers, something happened to the engine, for it ceased to hum. They were then at an altitude of a mile, and inability to start the motor made it necessary for them to volplane to the earth. Sighting a considerable town to the left, which was located south of a canal, the machine was directed toward a smooth, open field, not far from the environs, and after landing they learned that the place was Ligny-en-Barrois.
It was found that through some accident thepetrol tank had started a leak, and that the liquid was slowly oozing out during the flight, without giving the first indication until the engines failed. It was just the kind of an accident which necessitated the removal of the reservoir in order to make the proper repair.
"Which is the fastest machine?" asked Alfred, while they were waiting for the return of the reservoir.
"The Morane, by all means," replied the lieutenant.
"I thought the Caudrons were the best?" remarked Ralph.
"It depends on what you mean bybest," answered the lieutenant. "The different machines are used for various purposes, and while speed is important, there are other things just as necessary."
"What other things?" asked Alfred.
"Well, bomb-dropping for one thing; then, some machines are better adapted than others for directing artillery fire, or for using machine guns," said the lieutenant.
"The captain has a Caudron," said Alfred, "and he doesn't use a gun on it either."
"No; the Caudron is admirably adapted for observations, and is used almost wholly in France for directing artillery fire," answered the lieutenant.
"It seems to me that this machine is good for observing," said Ralph.
"Yes; and it is used for that purpose, but it isnow being put to use for photographing purposes,—that is, most of the Maurice Farman types are so used," answered the lieutenant.
"Why is that?" asked Alfred.
"For two reasons; first, because you will see we can get a good view downward; and, second, because it is the most stable machine in flight, the latter making it especially well adapted to take good views," replied the lieutenant.
"Which are the largest ships?" asked Ralph.
"The Voisin and the Breguet, by all means. They are able to carry heavy loads, and are used as bomb-dropping machines, as their fuselages are especially well adapted to carry and release the missiles," said the lieutenant.
"But I saw a Voisin at one of the hangars which had a big gun on it," said Ralph.
"Ah, that was the Voisin Cannon, which carries a 37-millimetre gun," said the lieutenant. "That is used for bombarding captive balloons and Zeppelins, if the latter should ever make their appearance."
"A 37-millimetre gun?" repeated Alfred.
"Yes; that's about one and a half inch in your measure," answered the lieutenant.
Within an hour the reservoir was again in position, and there was no delay in again mounting into the air. "We might take a little trip due east, as far as Toul, and north of that point we may have the privilege of seeing some of the enemy," remarked the lieutenant, as they mounted the machine.
A beautiful silver thread now appeared on the landscape to the east, as they reached their greatest altitude. Looking back there was a smaller thread to the west, and, apparently, the same distance from their viewpoint. They thus had the opportunity of seeing, at one glance, two of the most noted rivers which figure in the great war,—the Meuse to the east, and the Marne in the west, these streams at this point being within thirty miles of each other.
It was, probably, imprudent for them to take an out-of-the-way course to reach their destination, but the temptation was very great. The sun was still shining brightly when they started from Ligny-en-Barrois, but it was now growing dark from the overspreading clouds, and as soon as Toul was sighted the lieutenant turned the machine northward.
To the west it could now be seen that the threatening clouds were coming up, and they appeared to be sweeping toward the east with great speed, at right angles to the aviators' course.
"I wonder what the lieutenant will do?" queried Ralph half to himself, as he looked at the clouds, and then glanced back to the officer.
The lieutenant shook his head, and pointed the machine further to the left.
"Why, I believe he is going right into it!" remarked Alfred in amazement to Ralph.
But the officer now made a wide swinging turn. A view of the heavens indicated that the storm was an extensive one, and that the speed of the windhad increased most alarmingly, for, in looking down they seemed to stand still over the little hamlet beneath them. The wind, into which they were flying, was traveling at the same speed as the machine.
There was but one course to follow. They must return to the earth, otherwise they would be driven far over into the German lines. By setting the control lever so as to depress the nose of the machine they rapidly descended, the lever being intermittently drawn back to a normal position, so as to keep the ship on an even keel and prevent it from performing a loop in the air.
The landing was easily made, notwithstanding the wind, and they found they were near Commercy, west of the Meuse, about thirty-five miles south of Verdun. A terrific rainstorm then followed, which lasted more than an hour.
"Were you ever in a rainstorm while flying?"
"Never but once," replied the lieutenant, "and that was in thunder and lightning, too, which was the most terrific thing I ever went through."
"Tell us about it!" said Alfred.
"I almost shudder at it when I stop to think of the hour when I faced the lightning right where it is made," said the lieutenant. "It was in the second week of the war, just east of Rheims, when the Germans were sweeping across the frontier and had passed Charleville. I had a double-seated Nieuporte, with an assistant handling the machine, while I was making observations.
"Shortly after getting the first glimpse of themoving German columns I noticed that it was growing dark, but when you are aloft that is not noticed as quickly as when on terra firma. The great hosts of Germans interested me intensely, and we kept on until I estimated that we were fully ten miles behind the advance columns, when my assistant shouted through the tube: 'Look back; what are your orders?'
"I saw that to continue would be disastrous, so I gave the order to turn. This gave us the first opportunity to determine our speed, or, to state it more accurately, the speed of the wind, for you will recall that when we turned this afternoon, we seemed to stand still above the town.
"Within ten minutes of the time I turned the machine to the west the first heavy rolling clouds seemed to meet us. The earth was quickly blotted from sight, and heavy rumblings were heard, but no indications of lightning. I knew that heavy black clouds were dangerous, and they were so black that it was impossible to see my assistant, three feet distant.
"I could not decide what to do, so I finally shouted through the tube: 'keep on a straight course to the west,' for I knew that to land at that point would bring us right into the great German column. There was no rain falling at the time, but the cloud was like the densest mist. The machine was still moving,—that is, the engine was merrily humming, and my assistant's voice startled me as he shouted: 'There is something wrong; compass out of order.'
"During the flashes I could see him pointing to the compass, and I leaned over, and caught a glimpse of the dial. The pointer was swinging around violently. The lightning now seemed to be incessant, and the rumbling of the thunders was weird beyond description. Sometimes, immediately after a vivid flash, a thick spray would deluge our faces."
"What were you thinking about while all this was happening?" asked Alfred.
"What impressed me most was the wonderful difference between the appearance of those electrical discharges when viewed in the usual way from the surface of the earth. I did not notice any forked lightning, nor did it show itself in streaks, darting hither and thither. It seemed to be more like balls of fire, suddenly appearing here and there, and when each ball burst into flame, there would be a crackling sound, at any rate, so it seemed, for I dared not stop the engine.
"But the most remarkable thing was the odor which was present. It had a pungent smell, not at all unpleasant, but decidedly exhilarating in its effects. I suppose we were taking in ample doses of laughing gas, for I assure you that after the first experience, we had no particular sense of danger. It was most fascinating, and I felt as though I was being raised up on my seat. Occasionally I would try to figure out how this would end, but on the whole it was devoid of terror."
"How long were you in the storm?" asked Ralph.
"Well, I was so fascinated that I had forgotten to look at the watch. I held it before me, and soon noticed that it was nearly five o'clock, so that we were over an hour and a half in the thick of it. During this experience what gave me the queerest feeling was the compass, the needle of which could not be seen, it swung around with such velocity. Were we going with the storm, or not? That was the thing uppermost in my mind. If we were being carried along we might be even in Belgium by the time I noted the watch.
"Then I tried an experiment. I ordered my assistant to make a turning movement. This convinced me that we were really going with the storm, and were now far over into German territory. Strange as it may seem, we were not thrown hither and thither; the ship sailed along smoothly. I feared to make the next experiment,—that is, to direct the machine toward the earth, for, while everything worked perfectly, I had a feeling that it would be safer to reach the earth with an engine running than with a dead one. Slowly the machine went down; it seemed to get lighter, but now the thunder came in sharp claps, and the form of the lightning changed. I could distinctly see what the observer sees when on the earth, long, zig-zag streaks multiplied a hundred times more than anything I ever witnessed while on earth."
"How high were you up when you got out of the clouds?" asked Ralph.
"Seven hundred and seventy meters (about 2,900 feet), as indicated on the barometer."
"Could you see the earth?" asked Alfred.
"No, indeed; the rain was pouring down; it was splashing over us and all about us, and I signalled to go up again, and we soon entered the clouds; but during all this time the needle of the compass kept spinning, so that we knew nothing of the direction we were traveling."
"But couldn't you tell which way the wind was blowing?" asked Ralph.
"No; we were moving with the great air current, sometimes sailing with it, and at other times against it, but with nothing below to indicate the direction. We could not possibly say whether we were going north or south."
"I think if I should be in the air and couldn't see the earth I would know a way to tell which way the storm was moving," said Ralph.