The Boy Volunteers with the French Airmen

CHAPTER I

ANTWERP AND THE FLIGHT THROUGH NORTHERN BELGIUM

Antwerp was in a fever of excitement, as Ralph and Alfred marched up from the quay with the Belgian troops, and rumors of an immediate attack on the city were flying about.

"Look at the Zeppelin!" cried out a voice.

The boys turned to follow the gaze of the people who lined the streets. There, almost directly west, they caught the first glimpse of one of the monsters which appeared to be moving south, far beyond the reach of the encircling forts, but plainly visible.

"Nothing would suit me better than a trip in a flying machine!" exclaimed Alfred.

"Wouldn't that be fine?" replied Ralph.

The sight seemed to be an inspiration to the boys. Our story will tell how the idea so impressed itself on their minds that they almost felt it a duty to join a flying corps. That, however, seemed to be an impossibility.

They had passed through Belgium, participated in the first battles of the war, had been captured, and escaped from the Germans, and had now reached Antwerp, with the retreating Belgian army, where Ralph had hoped to meet his father, whom they had left in Germany almost four weeks prior to that time.

As the father had not arrived, owing to the embargo which had been placed on all travelers from Germany to the warring countries, the boys found themselves stranded in a strange city. Fortunately, their connection with the army, and the fact that they had rendered Belgium some service, made it possible for them to get food and lodging.

"We have forgotten one thing," said Ralph.

"What is that?" inquired Alfred.

"Why, we never went to the Post Office," replied Ralph.

At the General Post Office they received a letter from Alfred's father, only to learn that he had been detained, as was the case with thousands of Americans, and that it would be impossible for him to reach Antwerp. Instead, he would be permitted to go through Switzerland, and from that country reach Paris where he hoped to meet them.

"But we have no money now, what shall we do?" asked Alfred.

"That's what worries me," answered Ralph. "Father supposes that Pierre is still with us, and that we are supplied with money."

Three days after receiving the letter the boys heard the first definite news of the great movement of German troops designed to attack the forts. If they surrounded the city, and besieged it, the chances of reaching Paris would be small, indeed.

"Something must be done, and that today," said Ralph. "I am going to leave if I have to walk."

"Where to?" asked Alfred.

Ralph smiled, as he said: "We might walk to Holland."

Alfred almost shouted for joy, as he exclaimed: "That's a good idea. We have about ten francs left; that ought to take us through."

A map was consulted. "Why, yes," said Alfred, "we can go north to Eeckeren, and from that place to Capellen, close to the frontier. It's only twelve miles."

After this decision they again visited the Post Office, and immediately crossed through the city with a view of striking the main highway leading to Holland. Reaching the outskirts of the city, they were surprised to see great masses of Belgian troops encamped close to the forts, which guarded the highway. They soon learned that a strong German column had reached Brasscheat, three miles from Eeckeren.

They looked at each other in amazement. "Well, this beats everything," said Alfred, with a shade of bitterness. "The Germans seem to be in our way whichever direction we turn. We'll have to take another route."

"Another route?" blurted out Ralph. "There isn't another way to go on this side of the river. It would be a long tramp to cross the river."

They were now in a serious dilemma, and stood there undecided as to the best course to follow, when they were startled by a voice: "Hello, boys!"

"It's Pierre!" shouted Alfred, who was the first to spy their friend.

"And how did you get here?" asked Alfred. "We thought they had captured you at Rouen."

"So they did, but we got away the same night. But where are you going?" returned Pierre.

"Trying to get to Holland," he was informed.

"I am afraid you will have to go south of the Scheldt to get there," Pierre then informed them.

"But I received a letter from father, and he wants us to meet him in Paris," said Alfred. "You know we don't want to be shut up in the city, if the Germans are going to surround it."

"Of course not," answered Pierre. "But in the meantime we must find some other way out. You know you are still in the army, in the messenger service, and come to think of it, you haven't received any pay so far, have you?"

The boys laughed, for that part of it had been entirely forgotten.

"Why, yes; the Germans paid us for work at the hospital," said Ralph.

"And you repaid them by skipping out the next day," said Pierre with a smile.

"How much do you think there is due us now?" asked Alfred.

"I don't know what you are on the rolls for, but there must be a full month's pay due, and that would be about thirty-five francs apiece," said Pierre.

"Thirty-five francs!" mused Ralph. "Twice thirty-five is seventy,—about fourteen dollars. Good, that will take us through."

"I suggest that you come to headquarters and join us. We intend to cross the river. It will be the safest place for you," said Pierre.

"That will suit me," said Ralph.

Together they marched to headquarters where they were again installed and placed on the rolls. Late that night the regiment began its march, reaching the dock below Antwerp at ten o'clock, where they had a long wait before the crowded boats left the pier. On landing, the march was resumed, and did not halt for two hours, so it was nearly three in the morning before they were able to lie down for the much needed sleep.

It did not seem that they had slept a half hour when they were awakened by the heavy booming notes of cannon, and the occasional rattle and crash of small guns. The boys now knew the kind of music which the different weapons ground out.

"That's a machine gun, see how regularly the shots come," said Alfred.

"Yes; and that's a salvo from infantry," replied Ralph. "The Mannlicher guns have an awfully snappy way of talking. Do you hear it? There it is again. They must be rushing some of the outer works."

The real fight, however, was between the forts and the heavy German guns, which continued during the entire day, principally on the southern and eastern sides of the city. The struggle was continuous for four days. Suddenly Pierre burst in with the startling information:

"The Germans have silenced two of the forts, and Antwerp is doomed."

No time was lost by the defending troops, and before noon the camp was dismantled, and the march begun.

"Do you know where we are going!" asked Alfred.

"Nothing more than that we are going to leave Antwerp, and try to reach the sea," replied Pierre.

The Belgian army had begun its famous march across the northern end of Belgium in order to reach the sea, and secure the protection of the English fleet in the Channel.

"I heard some one say that we intended going through Bruges," said Ralph.

"Yes; and from there the army may be able to reach France, after passing through Ostend," said Pierre.

In an air line Bruges is fifty miles from Antwerp, and from Bruges to the French frontier it is fully forty miles more. How the brave little army finally reached its destination, avoiding the large German forces sent out to intercept them, remains one of the most glorious exploits in the history of the Belgian army.

"Next to Belgium I am glad to be in France," said Pierre. "Now you can get to Paris without difficulty," he added.

It thus happened that six weeks after the boys entered Belgium southwest of Liege, they reached Dunkirk on the French coast, and saw the immense fleet of warships and transports, which the British had in the harbor. It seemed that every spot around the city was taken up by tents, wagons, mules, horses, and heavy guns, to say nothing of the soldiers on every hand.

One regiment after the other entrained in cars, and were whirled to the south. Box cars, flat cars, some new, others dilapidated, were in service. It seemed that there were thousands of automobiles in line, and every one was anxious to get away. They even saw thousands of men, with full kits on their backs, march out to the east, as though they scorned to wait for railway or auto accommodations.

Pierre was at the door of the boys' tent early in the morning of the second day. "I am glad to tell you that the roll has been signed, and you can get your pay," he said. "But I am awfully sorry to have you go."

"Of course, we've had some pretty hard times," said Ralph, "but it was a great experience. Maybe we'll come back again."

"We're going to try to join the flying machines," said Alfred.

Pierre laughed, and Ralph smiled, for, while that idea was uppermost in his mind, he had never discussed the subject with Alfred sufficiently to enable them to call it a plan that they really intended to follow out. It was more an enthusiastic feeling of something that they would like to do, without knowing just how they would go about it.

"So you are really going to start for Paris this afternoon?" said Pierre.

"Yes; we ought to be there now, for father will wonder what is the matter with us. You see he hasn't heard from us for six weeks, and it has been two weeks since we received his letter," said Ralph.

"Then why don't you wire the Continental Hotel, Paris, and tell him you are on the way? It will relieve his anxiety. Tell him to answer you at once, for it may take you several days to reach Paris," said Pierre.

"Several days?" queried Alfred.

"Yes, indeed. Troops occupy all the cars now," replied Pierre.

So the telegram was sent, and it was decided to remain where they were until morning so as to receive the reply before starting. But no answer came that night or the next day. In the meantime, the boys wandered from place to place, for, as they still wore the trim Belgian suits, they were privileged to visit many places barred from civilians.

In the afternoon they found themselves far down the road leading to Ypres, when they were startled at the sound of an unusual buzzing, and soon divined the cause as they saw a dozen or more airplanes flying around over the broad fields to the east. Nothing more was needed to give the boys an inspiration. They moved toward the great field, as though a giant magnet pulled them. Long before they were near the hangars they could see the flyers far above them, circling about. The scene fascinated them.

Then something like a dull explosion startled them, and they looked at each other and then glanced about.

"There it is; look at it; directly above us," shouted Alfred, in great excitement.

"Something has happened; it's on fire," said Ralph.

In an incredibly short space of time, something struck and rattled along the ground not far from them, but the machine, although falling, was still some hundreds of feet from the earth. One of the operators could be seen frantically drawing back the levers, and trying to hold the badly damaged ship from overturning, but his efforts were unavailing.

The boys closed their eyes as the swiftly moving machine now actually rolled down through space, tumbling over and over, until it finally struck the ground with a crashing noise, not a hundred feet from where they stood. Terrorized at the sight, they stood still for a few moments, but this was no worse than the scenes they had witnessed in battle, so, without a word, they made a rush for the mound of debris.

"They are both under the machine," said Alfred.

"Look at the smoke; it's afire," shouted Ralph.

"Use sand! use sand!" almost shrieked Alfred.

They had early learned that sand is more effectual as a fire extinguisher of burning oil than water, if properly applied. Handsful of sand were scooped up and applied. A groan from one of the men arrested their movements.

Alfred jumped on the broken mass, and peered down. "There he is!" he shouted. Ralph crawled over the broken body of the airplane, and reached down.

"No; this man is lying still," he said. "Here he is; come on this side; he is under the framework."

The scene was one which well might inspire heroic work.

The imprisoned man was quite young, with handsome features, and it seemed cruel that such a fate should overtake him. The boys strained at the wreck until it moved.

"Brace it up on that side," said Ralph.

The truss from the fuselage was removed from the aviator, the man quickly drawn out from his perilous position, and carried clear of the wreck.

"Now for the other one," said Alfred.

Blood was still flowing across the face of the other flyer, as they crawled over the wreck to draw him out.

"This one is alive, I am sure," said Ralph.

"Why, yes; his heart is beating," replied Alfred, as the injured men were laid side by side.

"I have heard that they have first aid packages in machines of this kind," said Ralph, as he sprang toward the remains of the machine. "I have it," he cried, as he leaped over the wrecked pieces. "Here is—a—Restorative, whatever that is,—half a wineglass at a time,—where's the wineglass?"

"Give each a good swallow of it," said Alfred, as he raised up the head of the one first rescued.

The other man opened his eyes. "Lieutenant!" he said. Then, as he gazed at the boys, he seemed to smile, and as Alfred held up the bottle he feebly nodded.

It seemed to revive him in a few moments, and he struggled to raise himself. "I feel better now, but something hurts my legs," he said.

The lieutenant opened his eyes, and quietly looked at the boys without speaking.

"Can I do anything for you?" said Alfred.

"Is Jack hurt?" he asked.

"Yes; but he is all right," said Ralph.

"Here I am; still on top," said Jack, as he slightly turned, and moved his hand toward the lieutenant.

"And what are you boys doing here?" asked the lieutenant.

"On our way to Paris," said Alfred.

"But where did you get the uniforms?" asked the officer.

"Why, we've been in the Belgian army, and were in several fights," said Ralph proudly.

The lieutenant's face brightened into a smile, which quickly changed to one of pain. An ambulance stopped alongside with startling suddenness, for the boys had been too busy to notice that the watchers at the hangars had signaled for assistance. The men were carefully carried to the van, and as they were about to start the lieutenant motioned to the doctor in charge, and said:

"I want the boys to come along with us."

CHAPTER II

IN THE AVIATION CAMP

Once inside the ambulance the boys had an opportunity to watch the doctors, as they removed the clothing from the men, and began a search for the location and nature of the injuries. It was a gratification to be able to assist in this work. Jack's legs were both broken, and the lieutenant's chest, back and right arm were bruised and clotted with blood.

"I think they are all right," said the doctor in charge.

"But it's awfully hard breathing," said the lieutenant.

"You must have had a pretty good weight on top of you," remarked the doctor.

"I should think so," said Ralph. "It was all we could do to lift up the cross piece of the frame from him."

"We'll straighten you out in a few days," answered the doctor, "but your companion didn't fare as well. Compound fracture of one leg; but he has a good constitution; he's good for several trips yet."

The gratitude of the lieutenant was plainly observable, and the doctor was quick to notice it. "If these young men hadn't taken you out when they did it would have been all over with you, because the weight prevented you from breathing."

The lieutenant tried to smile, as he gazed at the boys, and they understood.

When the ambulance reached the hospital there were fifty or more aviators from the station, awaiting the news. The boys leaped out, the attendants were on hand with the stretchers, while the excited men crowded around the boys to learn the details. It was not long before the story of the rescue was known. The chief of the flying squadron came out of the hospital, and approached the boys. The latter straightened up and saluted.

"You should be commended for the prompt work you performed in rescuing the lieutenant and his pilot. I understand you belong to the Belgian army; but you are not Belgians, are you?" he asked.

"No, we are not," said Alfred, slightly embarrassed at the question.

The Commandant smiled as he continued: "I take it that you are Americans?"

"Yes, Captain; you are right," replied Ralph. "We joined the Belgian army at Liege, and fought the enemy all the way to Antwerp, and we had some pretty hot times, too."

This speech was applauded heartily, while a young man sprang forward, held out his hand and said: "And here's United States, too."

"We are not with the army now," said Alfred, recovering; "we hope to go to Paris, if it is possible to get there."

"The chances for that are not very good at present," observed the Commandant, "but in the meantime, if you are not attached, you must put up with us."

"Thank you for the offer," said Ralph eagerly. "We want to get into the flying service; that will just suit us."

"I am afraid that the army provisions would not permit you to join," said the officer, and all noted the expressions of disappointment that indicated the boys' feelings at this announcement.

"Then I suppose we'll have to force our way in, just as we did in Belgium," said Alfred.

This was greeted with a sally of laughter. The boys had made a hit with the corps, and they accepted the offer of quarters for their accommodation in the firm belief that something would turn up to assist them in their desires.

Boys are really at a disadvantage sometimes. This story, as well as many others, shows that they are capable of doing things as well as men, and that they can do some things better than most men; but in military matters the service seems to have been made for grown-up people on the principle that war is too barbarous a thing for young men until they are twenty years of age.

The boys, who were now in their glory, had a portion of a small room in a wooden building assigned to them. At this time there were fifty machines of various types on the ground, the particular makes being the Bristol, the B. E., several Farman machines, and a half dozen Sopworth tractors.

Tom Walton, the young American who greeted them at the hospital, was accorded the privilege of escorting the boys and introducing them. That they had been in the first battles of the war was sufficient to give them a coveted place in that company of enthusiastic men, for there was some glory in having been on a battlefield,—a thing which could have been said of only a few of those who entertained them that day.

"I suppose you want to see the machines," said Tom.

"Indeed, we do," said Alfred. "What is that big machine over there?"

"That is a Bristol," answered Tom.

"And there is another one," remarked Ralph, pointing to a machine, which was being drawn out of the hangar.

"No, that's a B. E. biplane," answered Tom. "You will see the difference by observing the shape of the planes. The Bristol has the ends of the wings rounded so that the forward corners are cut away to a greater extent than the rear corners. In the B. E. the wings are cut to conform with the well-known Wright type."

"That's a Farman machine, I know," said Ralph, pointing to an aeroplane which had a huge revolving type of motor forward of the main planes.

"Yes; but when that machine is high in the air it would be difficult to recognize it from that description," said Tom. "You will notice that the lower plane is much shorter than the upper plane, and that it has a great spreading tail,—larger than any other machine now made."

"Here is another kind, a little fellow. That certainly looks different from all the others," said Alfred, as they stopped in front of a hangar.

"That's the Sopworth tractor, a fine, speedy machine, with square ends to the planes, and a heart-shaped tail. It can be distinguished at any altitude," answered Tom.

"I notice that that has different tails," said Ralph. "Does that make any difference in the flying?"

"Not in the least. Shape has nothing to do with it. Surface is all that counts. They are made with distinctive forms so that they may be easily distinguished, one from the other."

"We saw some German airplanes, several dozens of them, in Belgium, and the only one I could recognize was the Taube, as they called it. They have fan-shaped tails," said Alfred.

"But here is the machine for business," said Tom, as they halted in front of a gaily decorated hangar, and pointed to a trim little machine, which was being overhauled.

"I see you have the Stars and Stripes above the door," said Ralph.

"Yes; and this is my machine; isn't it a beauty?" said Tom with a considerable show of pride.

"What is it? I mean what make?" asked Alfred.

"It is a French Morane; I have made many trips in it," said Tom, "and now I am going to use it against the Dutchies."

Thus they were conducted from place to place, visited the machine shop, which had been set up for repairs, and then inspected the landing field, which was designed to be illuminated for night work.

"Do you mean to say that you use the flying machines at night?" asked Ralph.

"Why, certainly; that is going to be a great stunt," said Tom. "The only trouble is that where there are many lights about it is pretty hard for a pilot to hunt out the landing place, so the authorities have made special provision for returning aviators to enable them to land with as much safety as in the daytime."

"How is it arranged so they can land without a mistake?" asked Alfred.

"Do you see that tall pylon, over there?" replied Tom. "That has on it the pilot light, much more brilliant than anything in sight. Now, look over to the left, nearly a quarter of a mile away; that pylon carries a brilliant red light. The other two pylons to the north and to the south have blue lights. The aviator knows that the bright light is to the east of the red light, and that he must make a landing somewhere between the brilliant light and the red light, between the limits marked by the blue lights."

"I should think that would be easy," said Ralph.

"It is when the night is clear; but the trouble is that the fog from the channel gives us considerable trouble, and then we have to glide back and forth very low to get our bearings, and that is dangerous business in the night."

The inspection raised the enthusiasm of the boys to the highest pitch. For them there was now no other life than flying, and, indeed, things seemed to be coming their way. They had learned more about machines during the two hours thus spent than they had acquired in all their lives previous to that time.

"I want to ask a favor of you," said Alfred, as they were returning to their quarters.

"Go ahead," said Tom.

"I would like to go up in a machine with you," was the reply.

Tom stopped, and looked at Alfred. "Do you really mean it?" he asked.

"Of course I do," replied Alfred.

"That's what I want to do, too," chimed in Ralph.

"It's against the rules to take up any one but the observers during practice hours; but let me see,—we may be able to fix it up some other time," said Tom.

"Do you have to do much practicing?" asked Alfred.

"Only from six to eight hours a day," answered Tom.

"What! do you mean practice flying when you are not scouting?" asked Ralph.

"Well, I should say so," was the answer.

"How long have you been flying?" asked Ralph.

"About two years," said Tom.

"And still they make you fly every day, for practice?" asked Alfred.

"Of course," said Tom.

"And what is that for?" asked Alfred.

"Flying airplanes for war purposes is something different to ordinary flying. The principal practice is to learn the methods of attack and defense. But that is not all. The airplane is the eye of the army; the observer must know how to observe. He must be able not only to see, but to put his knowledge into such form that it can be handed in in the form of a report. While he may get the information he must learn that the information is not for his own gratification, but for the use of the men in the field," said Tom.