Air Service Boys in the Big Battle | Page 9

It was a life full of eventualities.
A little later the two young airmen, in common with their comrades, were ready. Some were to do patrol work, like Tom--that is fly over and along the German lines in small swift, fighting planes, to attack a Hun machine, if any showed, and to give notice of any attack, either from the air or on the ground. The latter attacks the airmen would observe in progress and report to the commanders of infantry or batteries who could take steps to meet the attack, or even frustrate it.
Tom was assigned to a speedy Spad machine, one of great power and lightness into which he climbed. He was to fly alone, and on his machine was a machine gun of the Vickers type, which had to be aimed by directing, or pointing, the aeroplane itself at the enemy.
After Tom had given a hasty but careful look at his craft, and had assured himself of the accuracy of the report of his mechanician that it had oil and petrol, his starter took his place in front of the propeller.
"Well, Jack," called Tom to his chum, across the field, where Jack was making his preparations for taking up a photographer in a big two-seated machine, "I wish you luck."
"Same to you, old man. If you see anything of Harry, and he's alive, tell him we'll bring him back home as soon as we get a chance."
"Do you think there is any chance?" asked Tom eagerly. "I wouldn't want anything better than to get Harry away from those Boches--and make his sister happy."
"Well, there's a chance, but it's a slim one, I'm afraid," remarked Jack. "We'll talk about it after we get back. Maybe there'll be a message from the Huns about him before the day is over."
"I hope so," murmured Tom. "If those Huns only act as decently toward us as we do toward them, we'll have some news soon."
For it is true, in a number of instances that the German aviators do drop within the allied lines news of any British, French or American birdman who is captured or killed inside the German lines.
"All ready?" asked Tom of his helper.
"Switch off, gas on," was the answer.
Tom made sure that the electrical switch was disconnected. If it was left on, in "contact" as it is called, and the mechanician turned the propeller blades, there might have been a sudden starting of the engine that would have instantly kill the man. But with the switch off there could be no ignition in the cylinders.
Slowly the man turned the big blades until each cylinder was sucked full of the explosive mixture of gasoline and air.
"Contact!" he cried, and Tom threw over the switch.
Then, stepping once more up to the propeller, the man gave it a pull, and quickly released it, jumping back out of harm's way.
With a throbbing roar the engine awoke to life and the propeller spun around, a blur of indistinctness. The motor was working sweetly. Toni throttled down, assured himself that everything was working well, and then, with a wave of his hand toward Jack, began to taxi across the field, to head up into the wind. All aeroplanes are started this way--directly into the wind, to rise against it and not with it. On and on he went and then he began to climb into the air. With him climbed other birdmen who were to do patrol and contact work with him, the latter being the term used when the airship keeps in contact through signaling with infantry or artillery forces on the ground, directing their efforts against the enemy.
Having seen Tom on his way, Jack turned to his own machine. As his chum had been, Jack was dressed warmly in fur garments, even to his helmet, which was fur lined. He had on two pairs of gloves and his eyes were protected with heavy goggles. For it is very cold in the upper regions, and the swift speed of the machine sends the wind cutting into one's face so that it is impossible to see from the eyes unless they are protected.
Jack's machine was a two-seater, of a heavy and comparatively safe type--that is it was safe as long as it was not shot down by a Hun. Jack was to occupy the front seat and act as pilot, while Harris, the photographer he was to take up, sat behind him, with camera, map, pencil and paper ready at hand for the making of observations.
On either side of the photographer's seat were six loaded drums of ammunition for the Lewis gun, for use against the ruthless Hun machines. Jack had a fixed Vicker machine weapon for his use.
"Hope I get a chance to use 'em," said Harris with a grin, as he climbed into