CHAPTER XVI
_À BERLIN_
HAVING, through Athol's instrumentality, recovered the battleplane'splans, Desmond Blake resolved to run no more risks in that direction.In spite of the most stringent precautions German spies were found tobe active behind the British lines. Confidential documentsdisappeared almost under the noses of the authorities. So, ratherthan run a chance of having the plans stolen a second time, hedestroyed them.
"The details of one battleplane may be kept a secret, with reasonablecare," he remarked. "With a dozen in the making the odds are againstit, and since the authorities have told me pretty plainly that I amof more use here than superintending the construction of othermachines at home, I am content. I have an idea that they've a prettystiff job for us to tackle before very long."
Blake's surmise was correct, for a few days later he was ordered toreport himself at the Staff Office.
"By Jove!" he exclaimed, taking Athol and Dick aside. "We're going toput the wind up the Bosches this time. Half a dozen of our fastestmachines are detailed to make a raid--guess where?"
The lads hazarded the names of several places, but without success.
"Berlin," declared Blake. "Our people have been keen on the idea fora long time, but the authorities at home have, for some unearthlyreason, deprecated the idea. Sickly sentimentality I call it. Theyshrink from reprisals, although they know perfectly well that that isthe only way to bring the Hun to his senses. Events prove it. He wasthe first to use gas shells; now he squirms and whines when we givehim a dose of his own poison. He gloated over the torpedoing of ourmerchant ships, and squeals out piffling protests to neutrals whenour submarines tackle his trading vessels in the Baltic. The Germanpapers were full of bombastic rejoicing over the Zeppelin visits toour undefended towns; the Kaiser weeps copious crocodile tears whenthe Allied airmen knock his beloved Karlsruhe about a bit. I'd go ajolly sight farther than the precept laid down in the old Mosaic Law.'An eye for an eye; a tooth for a tooth.' By Jove! Three Britishshells for every German one, and a ton of high explosive for everykilogramme of T.N.T."
"When do we start?" asked Dick eagerly.
"At three to-morrow morning," replied Blake.
"It's blowing half a gale from the west'ard," said Athol, "and theglass is falling rapidly. It's all right for the outward journey, butwe'll have a job to get back. Not that I am at all anxious about thebattleplane's capabilities," he hastened to add.
"There will be no coming back," declared Blake. "At least, not atpresent. We've been waiting for this westerly gale. With it thesquadron ought to do at least a hundred and sixty over the ground.When we arrive over the German capital, by turning head to wind wecan keep almost stationary over any part we choose until all themachines have dropped their bombs. Strict orders have been issued toavoid hitting, as far as possible, the residential parts of the city.Then, after that particular business is completed the machines are toresume the westerly, or north-westerly course, and alight on Russiansoil, somewhere in the neighbourhood of Riga."
"And then?" asked Dick.
"Make ourselves useful until we get a fair wind back," replied Blake."But be careful," he added, "not to mention this business to anyone.Even after the raid no communication will be made; the officialbulletins will ignore it. And, I fancy, the Germans won't care toadmit it, since they've boasted time after time that Berlin isabsolutely immune from air attacks. We'll see how far their boastholds good."
For the rest of the day preparations for the long flight werediligently carried out. Blake and Dick overhauled the motors, oiledand tested the wing-operating mechanism, and carefully examined thecontrols lest any of the wires had developed designs of chafing. Thepetrol tanks were replenished under Dick's supervision, while inaddition twenty cans of spirit were taken on board. Ammunition andstores were also placed in readiness for the flight, Athol andSergeant O'Rafferty being responsible for the quantity and thecorrect weight, since a lot depended upon the flying trim of themechanical bird.
Similar scenes of activity were witnessed in other parts of theaerodrome, while the individual units of the squadron detailed forthe raid were being prepared for the most extensive aerial operationof the war. By nine o'clock everything was in readiness. The airmenretired for a well-earned and necessary rest, while sentries wereposted at the door of each hangar to prevent any possibility of themachines being tampered with.
At two in the morning the pilots repaired to the Wing Commander'squarters to receive final instructions. The machines were to proceedin two columns, each biplane starting at two minute intervals, thecolumns to be roughly three miles apart. Blake's battleplane was toact as covering escort, flying at three thousand feet above theothers. No attention had to be paid to hostile aircraft unlessunavoidable. If the enemy should attack, half the squadron, assistedby the secret battleplane, was to engage, while the rest pushed ontowards their objective.
As soon as the German capital was sighted, a wireless message was tobe sent to the British headquarters; and then, and only then, was theRussian General Staff to be informed of the projected visit of theraiding aircraft.
Punctually at the appointed time the first of the biplanes left theaerodrome, followed at stated intervals by the rest. In spite of thehowling wind the ascents were carried out without a hitch.
The secret battleplane was the last to leave. Almost silently ascompared with her consorts she rose evenly and swiftly from theground, and headed off in the direction the others had taken.
In the pale morning light the far-flung double line of Britishmachines could hardly be distinguished against the angry red glow onthe eastern horizon, although in the upper regions the deep bass humof their exhausts could be distinctly heard.
As they neared the lines of opposing trenches three or four Fokkersrose with the evident intention of intercepting the raiding machines;but thinking better of it, they volplaned earthwards.
At length, far above the storm-driven clouds that hid every detail ofthe country from their sight, the raiders pursued an even anduninterrupted flight, piloted on a compass course by the flightcommander in the leading biplane of the right column. With the windalmost dead aft navigation was a fairly simple matter. There was noneed to trouble about "side-drifts." All that had to be done was tofly continuously in a straight line until it was judged that themachines were approaching their objective and then descend below theclouds and verify their position by reference to a map and arecognition of conspicuous landmarks.
The "maps" had been especially supplied for the raiding airmen's useby the French government, and were the result of careful aeronauticalobservation work in pre-war days. In a strict sense they could not becalled maps, as they consisted of an elaborate series of enlargedphotographic views taken from an altitude of about eight hundredmetres, and embraced practically every mile of country between theFranco-German frontier and the environs of Berlin. Their compilationwas the direct result of the memorable visit of a Zeppelin to Nancy,where, owing to an accident the gas-bag had been compelled to come toearth. An examination proved conclusively that the airship had beentaking aerial reconnaissance of the French fortresses. The Frenchgovernment did not protest: it merely retaliated by making the seriesof photographic maps that were in the present struggle to play suchan important part.
At a quarter to five the leading biplane of the right column began avolplane, the rest of the machines following its example. It was atest in order to verify their position.
For full five minutes each was lost to sight of the other as theair-squadron dipped swiftly through the dense, rain-laden clouds.While it lasted the ordeal was a nerve-racking one, for not only wasthere the danger of collision in the event of any of the biplanesswinging out of position, but the air was filled with"pockets"--partial vacuum of insufficient density to offer resistanceto the planes--into which the airmen fell like stones until themachines "picked up" in the buoyant air beyond. Vicious and erraticcurrents and eddies, too, added to the pilots' difficulties, while inthe midst of th
e layer of clouds it was almost as dark as midnight.
As the battleplane emerged from the underside of the clouds the ladscould discern an extensive town through which flowed a broad river.Viewed from the height of seven thousand feet the town, with thenumerous railways radiating from it, resembled a gigantic spiderlurking in the centre of its web.
Already the leading biplanes were far beyond the maze of buildings,so it was evident that the city was not Berlin.
Blake noticed the look of enquiry on Athol's face.
"Magdeburg," he announced laconically. "Know the place well. We'refairly on the right road now--Brandenburg, Potsdam and then Berlin.Another quarter of an hour."
Up into the clouds climbed the raiding aircraft. The now furious galewas completely in their favour, for it was impossible for the Germansto send aloft any of their numerous captive balloons that formed apart of the aerial defences of the capital. The wind was beginning torend the bank of clouds. Brilliant shafts of sunshine shot throughthe rifts. Over the ground the shadows chased each other with a speedthat gave the aviators a knowledge of the strength of the gale.
Blake, holding the steering wheel, spoke hardly a word. His wholeattention seemed to be centred upon the task of "keeping station"with the rest of the squadron. His left hand was almost continuouslyupon the timing lever of the motors, checking the speed of thebattleplane whenever, as frequently happened, she showed a tendencyto overhaul the biplanes.
Far below lay an extensive and irregularly shaped lake with at leasttwo considerable towns on its banks. Surrounding the lake was a denseforest, of which a large part had been but recently cleared, fornewly-felled trees were plentifully in evidence.
"Potsdam," announced Blake. "If we imitated the methods of theKultured Huns we should drop a few bombs on Kaiser Wilhelm's palace.That lake is the Havel. They've cleared a lot of the Spandau andPotsdam forests, I see. Not that they are hard up for timber. Isuppose it is chiefly for wheat growing, in anticipation of the daywhen the German frontiers are most considerably restricted. But standby--the leading machines are turning head to wind."
The attack had been magnificently planned. One division of thebiplanes had flown over the southern environs of Berlin; the otherover the northern; now both were turning inwards and just holdingtheir own against the wind. They had the city at their mercy.
Before the utterly surprised artillerymen manning the anti-aircraftguns were fully aware of the presence of the British raiders,powerful bombs were hurtling through the air, each missile aimed withdeliberate intent upon a specified objective and not droppedhaphazard under cover of darkness as in the case of the Zeppelinraids over England. The railway stations and other public buildingsof military importance were carefully singled out by the airmen, inspite of the now furious but erratic fire of the German guns,particular attention being given to the official buildings in theWilhelmstrasse, not omitting No. 13--the headquarters of the ImperialAdmiralty.
It was by no means a one-sided engagement, for shrapnel shells werebursting heavily all around the British machines. As far as Athol andDick were concerned they rather welcomed the warm attentions of theenemy. It was far better to run a fighting risk than to hoverdeliberately over a defenceless town and hail projectiles upon apopulace unable to raise a little finger in self-protection.
Already fierce fires were raging in a dozen different quarters of theGerman capital. The air trembled with the terrific detonations ofexploding bombs. The dense columns of smoke, beaten almost flat withthe strong wind, prevented the airmen from making definite andaccurate observations of the result of their work, but on the otherhand the vapour hid the attacking aircraft from the artillerymen.Nevertheless two British biplanes were hit. One, taking fire,streamed earthwards, leaving a trail of smoke and flame in its wake.The other, its engine disabled, contrived to land in Thiergarten,where the pilot and observer were made prisoners.
The secret battleplane had dropped her last bomb and was preparing toresume her north-eastward flight when a shell burst almostimmediately above her. A hail of bullets rattled against her proofedsides. One ripped a hole through Blake's airman's helmet, fortunatelywithout doing further injury. The wings were perforated in fiftyplaces, although the damage had little effect upon the speed of themachine. The battleplane literally reeled with the concussion,recovered herself, and then began to wobble alarmingly in spite ofthe efforts on the part of the pilot to keep her on a straightcourse.
One of the actuating rods of the left wing, bent by the violentimpact of the base of the shell, was thrown out of action. Sooner orlater the machine would be obliged to descend upon hostile soil,almost in the very centre of the German Empire.