The Boy Volunteers with the French Airmen

CHAPTER VIII

AN AEROPLANE AMIDST THE LIGHTNINGS

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 the petrol 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 by best," 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 is now 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 wind had 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 the moving 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.

"How?" asked the lieutenant, as he leaned forward.

"Why, the rain would come down at an angle, if the wind should be blowing, wouldn't it?" replied Alfred.

"Quite true, that would be the case on the earth; but it would not be so up where the raindrops are being formed; there the little particles of water move along with the wind stream; but that is not all; when you are in a machine in a great wind movement, the ship must move through the wind in one direction or the other at all times so as to keep aloft, hence, whether you are going with or against the wind, the rain drops appear to be coming down at an angle, and this, in itself would be sufficient to deceive you, or, at any rate prevent you from determining the direction in which you happened to be sailing."

"How did you get down?" asked Alfred.

"That was the interesting part of it. After a half hour more of flying I again ordered the assistant to go down two hundred meters. It was now evident that the storm was abating. Soon we again passed out of the rain clouds, and the assistant shouted that he had reached the level indicated. 'Go lower,' I shouted. As we did so it grew lighter, and we began to feel a relief. 'Lower yet,' I ordered. At 600 meters the rain poured steadily, but still nothing was visible."

"You were up then about a half a mile," said Ralph.

"Just about that," was the reply. "Soon we noticed a peculiar white patch, and then another. This was puzzle to me. 'Go still lower,' I shouted, and down went the machine. Then we saw some white houses, and I almost shouted for joy. But where could we be? We were passing over a city, a city located within the bend of a large river. I racked my brain to find out where and what it could be. If it was the river Meuse it might be Verdun, or Sedan, or Charleville. We were forced to go down still lower, and then I could see forts, and I felt sure we were over Sedan.

"We were even then going east. I was so agitated that I could hardly speak, and motioned to my assistant to turn around. He understood, and the ship was swung around; we were now going right into the blinding rain, but we were fifty miles behind the German advance columns, and in order to enable us to make more rapid progress I told the assistant to change the course nearly due south. We were flying very low, certainly not over a thousand feet.

"Thus far we had not seen a soldier, or any evidences of warfare. In a half hour we sighted another stream. My heart leaped with joy, for I was sure it must be the Aisne. To assure myself of this we followed the stream for twenty kilometers, and then the forests of Argonne came into sight, thus assuring me of the position. I knew that the army of the Crown Prince was in that region, and it would not be safe to descend; I, therefore, directed the machine to the west, crossed the river, and was about to go still lower, when I heard a boom,—several of them.

"This startled me, you may be sure. 'Up, up!' I shouted. The machine obeyed. We rose to an altitude of eight hundred meters, then suddenly the engine stopped. My assistant turned and shouted: 'We have no petrol.' I crawled back and tested the tank. It was empty. 'Volplane to the south,' I said. It was the only thing I could do. Now that the engine was silent the sounds from the earth were startling. There was terrific firing to the right and left, and all about us; but we must go down; there was no help for that.

"Soon the earth again came in sight, and then the location of the batteries was made out by the volumes of smoke, which could be seen at each volley. My assistant tried to hold up the machine as long as possible, but we were now down to 300 meters, then the barometer registered 250. We both noticed a large, apparently smooth field, and the final volplane began. We landed a hundred feet from a first-line trench, and although the Germans made it hot for us for about fifteen minutes we were soon able to reach the laterals and thus escape their fire. But the machine was in a bad condition when we rescued it that night. It was literally shot full of holes. What is left of it is now in the end warehouse where the scraps are kept."

CHAPTER IX

A CHAPTER OF LESSONS ABOUT THE AEROPLANE

Early the following morning there was intense activity in the camp, and Ralph was among the first to learn the cause of the excitement. Several army divisions had come up in the night, and were bound for the Verdun sector, and from the information obtained it was the intention of the commander to make a terrific assault in order to break the German lines north of the city.

The lieutenant, when approached, admitted that they were now in for double duty. "Every man in the corps must report and be ready in the morning. There will be two days of observation, and then look out for some business."

"When will we go to Verdun?" asked Ralph.

"We are expecting orders at any moment," was the reply.

During the previous afternoon more than fifty machines had assembled, and some of those were now leaving, a few going directly east, on observation tours, while others were circling about and testing the engines.

"I am expecting a big Farman machine," said Lieutenant Guyon, as he returned from headquarters an hour afterwards, "that is equipped for carrying bombs, but I am told it is one of the speediest machines in the service. It will easily carry six hundred kilos in bombs (1,200 pounds), and we are ordered to wait here until it arrives."

When the boys were alone, Alfred, with a glint of joy in his eyes, remarked: "I think that will give us an opportunity to do some flying with the lieutenant."

"Do you think so?" replied Ralph, elated at the thought.

"I am sure of that," said a voice behind them.

They quickly turned and saw the lieutenant, who had entered unobserved. They saw by the smile on his face that the remark was an agreeable one, for he continued:

"Yes, and the machine is now here; the men are at work setting it up; so we might as well go over and help out."

A second invitation was not necessary. Ralph, who was outside in one bound, rushed across the field, but Alfred accompanied the lieutenant to the commandant's office, where they were provided with the receipt for the machine. The lieutenant remained here while Alfred carried the document to the warehouse. Within two hours the machine was in condition to receive the fuel and the supplies usually carried in the machines for emergencies.

When the lieutenant returned he made a careful inspection, and on this occasion the boys followed every movement of his to learn what were the essential requirements in inspecting. Naturally, the most important thing was to know that every part of the frame is not only properly set up and the wires made taut, but that the fastenings, the turnbuckles, are in good condition. That necessitated a minute examination of every one of them.

Then the planes were sighted to ascertain whether they were properly aligned. Sometimes when the planes are not exactly parallel with each other, the end of one, for instance, being set a little higher or lower than the other, it is usually corrected by letting out one or more sets of brace wires and taking up on others. This observation was followed by a careful look at the control planes. These are the sensitive parts of the plane, and may be likened to feelers, for the slightest warping of the horizontal tail planes will frequently cause the machine to fly with a skidding motion, not dangerous, but exceedingly uncomfortable when flying at a high rate of speed.

"The wires leading to the control levers are always a source of worry to me," remarked the lieutenant, and he drew himself up into the rear part of the chassis. "You will notice that this one rubs along the side of that brace. I could not permit that," he said, as he glanced toward one of the workers.

"Do you think it would weaken the brace?" asked Ralph.

"No, it's not that," replied the lieutenant. "The difficulty is that all these wires are stranded, and as soon as one of the wires wears out by the frictional contact, another will give way, and the control wire is liable to part at the most critical time."

The boys had occasion to remember the lieutenant's warning shortly thereafter. After an examination of the airplane structure an investigation was made of the engine. The mechanic turned it over to be sure that the compression was all right. Self-starters are provided on all these machines, as the French learned at an early day that it would be unwise to depend on cranking.

Then a thorough inspection of the pipes and tubing for the fuel and lubrication was made. The dashboard of an aeroplane is a much more wonderful contrivance than the dashboard of an automobile. The aviator must look out for several things not necessary when traveling on land.

The machine which they were examining had on it the most improved contrivances, which had been found desirable, some of which were entirely new to the boys, one of them being the inclinometer.

"That must be a dandy thing," said Alfred, pointing to it.

"I think there are only a few of the military machines which are supplied with them, but the order has been given to put them on all the new machines," said the lieutenant.

"What are the two rods for?" asked Ralph, as he looked at the inclinometer.

"The two rods which swing past the vertical bar, on which you see the numbers, indicate the angle at which the machine is going. All that is necessary is to observe the crossing point of the rod over the marked bar, and it will instantly tell what the angle of ascent or descent is. You see an aviator now has so many things to think of that he must have devices of various kinds which will constantly tell him anything or any condition without asking for it."

"Why, this also tells how fast the engine turns," remarked Alfred.

"Of what use is that?" asked Ralph.

"Well; if you knew that the engine was capable, under full throttle, to make eighteen hundred revolutions a minute, and the dial showed that the shaft was turning only one thousand, you would quickly get the idea that something was wrong," answered the lieutenant.

"Oh, yes; and then you would start to make an investigation at once without waiting for the engine to stop," said Alfred.

"Exactly; it is there as a warning, just as a headache is a warning that something is wrong, or a pain, which is nature's way to indicate that an investigation should be made without delay," answered the lieutenant with a nod.

Besides the foregoing, the dash had on it a watch. Now, a watch may be a convenient thing to have on an automobile, but it is not a necessity. On a scouting and observation plane it is one of the necessary implements. Alfred laughed, as he looked at the neat little clock face.

"I suppose," he said, "we could get along without that."

"Of course we could," answered the lieutenant. "But why get along without it when we now find it such a necessary element?"