CHAPTER XI--THE LAFAYETTE
Of all the flying corps in France none performed more valiant deeds orbecame more renowned than the Lafayette, composed of Americans whojourneyed across the sea to help the French in their struggle againstthe invading hosts. Whether it was in answer to the call of adventuredue to the love of thrills and excitement, or to the fascination of anew and wonderful sport, or simply from a sense of duty, are questionsof no particular moment--the members of the flying corps are to bejudged solely by the remarkable work they accomplished.
The fame of such combat pilots as Rockwell, Prince, Chadwick, MCConnell,Lufbery, Hall, Walcott and numbers of others is of the kind which willlast as long as history itself. Never again, perhaps, will men be calledupon to repeat their triumphs.
The day Don Hale arrived was an epochal one in his life. George Glennand T. Singleton Albert met him at the station in a little villagecrowded with soldiers and permissionnaires.
"I can't tell you, Don, how glad I am to see you; and yet I'm almostsorry to see you," exclaimed Albert, enigmatically. "You're in forexcitement that will make your days as an ambulance driver with the RedCross seem tame by comparison."
"And they were plenty thrilling enough to suit me," laughed Don. "What'sthe latest news?"
"That this little village was recently bombed."
George Glenn pointed to a sign painted on the side of a building.
"'Cave Voute,'" read Don, aloud.
These caves, he knew, were underground retreats, where the soldiers orinhabitants could find a refuge in case of a bombardment or abomb-dropping expedition of the enemy.
"One good thing--our camp is outside the range of the guns," saidGeorge.
As the boys walked through the little village, which, during the earlierstages of the war, had been the scene of many an exciting event, DonHale could not help but remarking on the changed appearance of T.Singleton Albert. There was a gravity and sedateness about him which hejudged to be caused by the dangers to which the airmen are constantlyexposed.
"Had any exciting adventures yet, Drugstore?" he asked.
"Plenty of them," responded Albert. And then a light which Don Hale hadnever seen before flashed into the young chap's eyes. "Yet, in spite ofthat, I wouldn't have missed this experience for all the world. Flyinghas all the joys, the thrills and excitement of every other sport beatena thousand miles. I certainly owe a whole lot of thanks to LieutenantWilliam Thaw."
The three found plenty to talk about, though they were often obliged tolet their lively tongues slow down on account of the lines of marchingtroops and the almost endless procession of motor trucks passing in bothdirections.
In about three-quarters of an hour they reached their destination--theheadquarters of the famous Lafayette Escadrille, which happened to be,at this time, in a beautiful little villa, situated in the midst ofspacious grounds.
A number of the American pilots cordially greeted him, and Don was veryglad to see among them Victor Gilbert.
After meeting the courteous French captain of the escadrille the boy wasshown to a room on the second floor, which he was to share with severalothers.
Outside of the hazardous nature of their occupation, the members of theAmerican Squadron, unlike the "doughboys" and poilus, lived a life ofease and comfort. They had orderlies who attended to their needs,comfortable feather beds to sleep upon, and their meals, prepared by aFrench chef, were eaten in a dining-room which delighted the eye by itsmost artistic furnishings and decorations.
It would have been very hard to analyze Don Hale's feelings on thisparticular occasion. Expectation, eagerness, happiness and impatience,all seemed to hold sway over his thoughts, and though the reality wasbefore him he could scarcely believe that he actually had become amember of the famous American Squadron.
After a substantial lunch, still in the company of George Glenn andAlbert, Don journeyed to the aviation field not very far away.
With the utmost eagerness, he gazed about him. He saw numerous hangars,rest tents and various wooden structures. And, besides these, parked atone side, were ponderous motor trucks, trailers and several automobiles.
Attached to the great encampment were mechanicians, chauffeurs,telephone operators, Red Cross attendants and motor-cyclists--for thebusiness of flying has its prosaic side as well as its thrills. Somehowor other it reminded Don of a country fair on a large scale, and itwould have seemed to him very natural indeed had his eyes alighted on abarker, mounted upon a rostrum, exhorting a crowd of spectators toenter. There was a certain air of grimness and sternness, however, aboutthe men whom they encountered that soon removed this impression. Fromthe east came the sullen rumble of countless guns. Sometimes it was low,like the mutterings of distant thunder; sometimes it swelled into avolume, as if a storm was about to burst, and then, like the sighing ofthe wind, almost faded away.
A patrol was just about to leave for the front, and Don watched theNieuports taxi across the ground, rise one after another in the air,and, after gaining a high altitude, soar in a V-shaped formation towardthe battle front.
The boy thrilled at the sight, and his eyes followed the fast-flyingplanes until they were lost to sight behind a thin veil of whitishclouds.
"Of course, I'm pretty sure you know just what kind of work we are doinghere," said George Glenn, "but, notwithstanding, I am going to tell youa few things. Our squadron belongs to what is known as the group decombat, and it has a definite sector to cover.
"A patrol is always kept over the enemy's lines, not only to prevent theGerman pilots from entering ours but to make their lives as full ofspice and adventure as we possibly can."
"Still, we have a lot to do besides fighting," put in Albert. "Sometimesour duty is to protect the two or three-seater bombardment planes, the_avions de reglage_, or airplanes used by those who regulate theartillery fire, and the observation and photographic planes. The missionof the big 'birds,' although they are armed with two guns, and sometimesthree, is a purely defensive one."
"Quite often," chimed in George, "escorting bombardment and photographicplanes, we travel quite a long distance into 'Germany,' as we call theother side of the barbed wire entanglements."
"It must be wonderful!" cried Don.
"Some of our experiences are, I can assure you," returned George, with ahalf smile. "Now, Don, here is something the captain is going to tellyou, and if you value your life and my piece of mind you will implicitlyobey his instructions."
"Fire away!" said Don.
"It is to stick by the formation--always! The Germans have a habit ofpouncing down upon stragglers, and unless the pilot combines skill,resourcefulness and courage in equal proportions, or sheer good luckintervenes, it is apt to be good-night."
"You can trust me not to get lost," said Don, with a serious look in hiseyes. "But, boys, I want to see my plane--I must see my plane, and, asthe captain is right here on the field, I reckon he'll show it to me."
In this view Don was not mistaken; and presently a mechanic rolled outof one of the hangars a small machine, slender of fuselage and beautifulin its proportions. On the tapering body was painted an Indian's headsimilar to the one on Lieutenant Thaw's machine.
"As you see, all of the planes are numbered," remarked the captain,"and, in addition, each of the pilots has some special mark on thefuselage to distinguish his from the others."
"Yes, Monsieur le Capitaine," said Don, with a grin of delight.
"This machine has a motor of two hundred horse power and can travel at aspeed of about one hundred and forty miles an hour," continued thecommander. "And at times you will need it all," he added, dryly. "Whenmay you go up? This afternoon. I will detail Sergeant Reynolds toaccompany you in his plane. The German lines must not be crossed, underany consideration, for several days at least."
"The German lines must not be crossed"]
"Oh!" murmured Don.
This was a great disappointment to the boy; for he possessed that daringwhich youth is p
rone to indulge--a daring which may often lead todisaster, and, as often, be a means to safety.
The captain, after introducing him to the mechanic who was to look afterthe Nieuport, walked away.
The next half hour was one of unalloyed delight to Don Hale. He spent itin examining the plane, the various nickel plated instruments with whichthe cockpit was furnished and the Vickers gun, with its belts ofcartridges.
To fire this stationary weapon the pilot would have no need to removehis hand from the controls. The instruments consisted of a compass, analtimetre to register the height, a speed indicator and several others.Then there was a map in a roller case.
The top of the plane was camouflaged by means of spots of a greenish andbrownish color; and besides the concentric circles of blue, white, brownand red on the wings the end of the tail had been painted with thetricolor of France.
Though Don Hale, as a rule, was a pretty calm lad, he found it hard toconceal his nervous tension.
His preliminary flight that afternoon, however, was really nothing morethan a repetition of those he had taken while in the training schools. Agreen pilot was not to be fed to the hungry Boches, and he stood in nomore danger from that source than if he had been hundreds of miles away.
On the following days the sergeant led him a little further toward thefighting front. And then, having received all the protection which wisecounsel and advice could afford, the young airman was pronounced readyto begin his career as a combat pilot.