Air Service Boys in the Big Battle | Page 9

way I'll drop Bessie Gleason a note!" suggested Tom, quickly.
"Don't!" begged Jack. "I'll be good!"
CHAPTER IV
TRANSFERRED
One glance at the bulletin board, erected just outside their quarters at the aerodrome, told
Tom and Jack what they were detailed for that day. It was the day following the arrival of
Nellie Leroy at that particular place in France, only to find that her brother was
missing--either dead, or alive and a prisoner behind the German lines.
"Sergeant Thomas Raymond will report to headquarters at eight o'clock, to do patrol
work."
"Sergeant Jack Parmly will report to headquarters at eight o'clock for reconnaissance with
a photographer, who will be detailed."
Thus read the bulletin board, and Tom and Jack, looking at it, nodded to one another,
while Tom remarked:

"Got our work cut out for us all right."
"Yes," agreed Jack. "Only I wish I could change places with you. I don't like those big,
heavy machines."
But orders are orders, nowhere more so than in the aviation squad, and soon the two lads,
after a hearty if hasty breakfast, were ready for the day's work. They each realized that
when the sun set they might either be dead, wounded or prisoners. 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