CHAPTER XIV--THE BOMBARDMENT
By the time the excited crowd had piled outside powerful search-lightswere reaching up into the starlit heavens, lifting out of the gloom withstrange and fantastic effect the thin veil of clouds which here andthere stretched across it.
Even amid the booming of the anti-aircraft batteries and the sharperstaccato reports of the machine guns from various parts of the field,all blending into an unearthly din, the droning of the motors high inthe air could be distinctly heard. Like a pyrotechnic display, luminousbullets, searching for the invaders, shot up into the sky, oftenpiercing the low-hanging clouds; and mingling in with them were viciouslittle spurts of fire which told of the explosion of shrapnel shells.
The majority of the pilots, familiar with the dreadful danger whichmenaced them, made a wild dash for the underground shelters. But DonHale and a few others, fascinated by the awe-inspiring scene andsituation, remained.
"Isn't this awful!" cried Bobby Dunlap, with a distinct tremolo in hisvoice. "Great Scott!"
At that instant a loud, though dull boom from the explosion of a bombhad added its quota of noise to the raging inferno of sound.
It hadn't landed so far away, either, and, as Don Hale, in the grip offear and excitement which he found impossible to control, strove topierce the gloom, three reports, even louder, followed one another inquick succession.
"Great Caesar!" cried Bobby Dunlap. "It seems as though they are going towipe the aviation camp off the map. It's time for us to run for ourlives."
And with these words, jerked out so fast that they were scarcelyintelligible, he started off on a headlong sprint to join those who hadsought a haven of safety.
But even then neither Don, George nor Albert could tear themselves awayfrom the singular scene that was passing before their eyes. Everysearch-light--every gun was being used. Dazzling streams of whitishlight crossed and criss-crossed or swept in wide circles over thesky--the darkness of night seemed to be rent asunder. Flaming bulletswere rising by the thousand.
Notwithstanding the terrific defense of the French batteries the Germanbombs continued to fall. Their appalling detonations seemed fairly toshake the ground.
It was a situation wherein the tragic and the terrible held full sway.No man alive could have stood it without fear and trembling; for, at anyinstant, one of the bombs might have fallen into their very midst.
And then, while they stood there, motionless, silent, their pulsesquickened by the emotions within, they saw something which brought huskyexclamations from their lips.
It was the sight of a German plane, spectral and ghostlike, sailingserenely along in a dazzling sea of light. Flying this way and that, itnow and then almost disappeared in the obscurity beyond, but,inexorably, it was pulled back into the field of vision by theever-moving rays. And then a second and a third plane sprang into view,all appearing as pale, ethereal and ghostlike as the other.
And as the pilots kept their eyes fixed upon this wonderful and singularspectacle, which seemed to combine the elements of the supernatural andunreal, they became witnesses to a scene which is given to but few inthis world to see.
Suddenly, just beneath the foremost machine, now in the full glare oflight, there appeared a tiny flash of fire, a tiny burst of smoke--thecircling flight was ended. Almost simultaneously with the explosion ofthe shrapnel shell the battleplane began to fall, at first slowly, asthough the airmen near the clouds were desperately seeking to regaincontrol.
What was going to happen? A few seconds would tell.
They were thrilling seconds, too, to the little shivering knot ofspectators by the bureau.
"Ah--ah!"
A long-drawn, shrill exclamation came from Don Hale.
The plane, after wobbling and staggering for the briefest instant, begana spinning dive toward the earth; and before it had gone many hundredfeet a portion of one of its wings was seen to become detached. Almostinstantly came a little burst of ruddy flame, rapidly increasing inintensity, until, at last, the airplane was blazing from end to end.Like a flaming meteorite, the doomed machine, still bathed in thedazzling white glare, continued its frightful plunge.
Down, down, it came, whirling and spinning, growing larger and moredistinct with each passing second, and leaving behind it a long sinuoustrail of sparks and inky smoke.
Absorbed--enthralled by the terrible spectacle, Don Hale almost forgotthe danger that ever menaced them.
But before the plane had reached the ground the peril of their exposedposition was brought forcibly to his mind by another loud report from abursting bomb. It seemed to have fallen nearer at hand than any of theothers; and he was just about to urge his companions to leave when,without warning, there came a frightful and appalling explosion, soterrible in its power that he found himself jerked off his feet andthrown violently forward.
Shocked, dazed and bewildered, he struck the turf at full length, wherehe lay as motionless as if the end had come.
He was brought to his senses, however, as suddenly as though ice-waterhad been dashed into his face. The explosion had hurled aloft greatmasses of earth and debris; and now, like a descending avalanche, theybegan beating upon the ground close about him with thuds and bangs andcrashes.
With a startled cry, the boy staggered up. A clump of earth struck himon the back with almost stunning force; a piece of board crashed down athis feet, and in wild haste, he began the retreat that should have beenmade before.
And, to add to the danger, spent bullets from the shrapnel shells camepelting down.
The distance to the nearest underground shelter was very short, but itseemed like a mighty long way to the frightened runners. Could theyreach it?
Panting, perspiring, almost desperate, they crossed the last lap of theintervening space and fairly threw themselves into the crowdedbomb-proof shelter.
Their wild and unceremonious entrance brought exclamations from thecrowd. But no effort was made to speak, however, for, amid the mighty,crashing chorus of the guns, voices could scarcely have been heard.
Huddled together in the shelter, which was dimly lighted by a single oillamp, feeling the earth trembling beneath their feet, the pilotslistened with awe to the sound of the explosions. It was mightyunpleasant to be cooped up--mighty unpleasant to think of what might behappening to the hangars and the little fighting Nieuports, and when,after what seemed to be an interminably long time, the din of theanti-aircraft guns and bursting bombs began to slacken, Don Hale gave abig sigh of relief.
"I guess it's all over, boys," he shouted.
"I'm going to make the Germans sorry for this," cried Bobby Dunlap.
As the crowd, headed by Don, made for the door the firing had ceased,and, in contrast to the terrific racket of a few moments before, thecomparative silence seemed almost strange and unnatural. The giantsearch-lights were still sweeping the sky, but the enemy had evidentlybeen driven away.
Intent upon finding out as quickly as possible what damage had beendone, Don Hale and George Glenn hurried toward the point where the bombsseemed to have fallen most thickly. Men were hurrying this way and that,and officers could be heard shouting their orders. It quickly developed,however, that the camp, very fortunately, had sustained but littledamage. Great pits had been dug in the ground by the force of theexplosions, the end of a hangar demolished, and two machines and alittle storehouse destroyed.
"Now I feel very much better," declared Don. "Honestly, I never expectedto see that Nieuport of mine again."
"From the amount of noise they made, one might have thought the wholecamp was going skyward," declared George. "Before the Boches have achance to pay us another visit, Don, let's beat it for the villa."
"Done as soon as said," exclaimed Don.
Long accustomed to the terrors and scares of the war zone, the boys hadnow entirely recovered from the effects of the bombardment from the sky.
With a number of others, they climbed into a big camion and were drivento their headquarters. O
n the way they saw encampments of soldiers inthe fields, their tents, with lights inside, showing as faintly luminousspots in the darkness. Now and again a long convoy lumbered along theroad; batteries were moving up nearer the front; reserves, too, passedthem, marching steadily and silently, the rhythmic sound of theirsteadily-tramping feet sounding weirdly in the night.
And though no particular incident marked the journey, Don and Georgewere thoroughly glad when they reached their comfortable room in theancient villa.
Tired, after the many hours of work and excitement, they immediatelyturned in.
And thus ended another day.