CHAPTER XXI

UP ABOVE THE CLOUDS

"Good-bye, fellows. If I shouldn't come back--well, you know what to do about writing the folks. I'll be back all right enough, though. I'm just as sure as anything of that."

Seated beside Voissard in a gray French racer, Jimmy Blaise leaned out for a last word and handclasp with his three bunkies. It was a solemn-faced trio who stood beside the long, low car. Jimmy's Brothers were trying to be glad because Jimmy himself was so excitedly happy. It was hard work. They felt as though they were looking their last at good old Blazes.

The final good-byes said, the racer, driven by Voissard, shot down the road, started on what was to prove a most amazing trip for Jimmy Blaise. It was three o'clock in the afternoon and the two men were bound for a French escadrille, not far behind the American sector of the firing lines. Jimmy Blaise was presently to go out with Voissard over the German lines. This was the extent of his knowledge regarding the expedition. Cousin Emile had offered not a word more than was absolutely necessary in breaking the news to Jimmy and his bunkies.

As the racer left the village behind and struck a country road, Voissard broke the silence which had fallen between them since the start.

"Thus far I have imparted to you nothing of to-night's detail. You must understand that I have been granted a great privilege in being allowed your company to-night, _mon cher ami_. It is the first favor I have ever asked of France. _Voila!_ You are here. Some distance behind the Boche lines a long ammunition and supply train is making its way to the German front. I am to lead an air squadron against it. It will be a bombing raid and very dangerous. We shall start at three o'clock to-morrow morning. The supply train, according to our calculations, will be at a certain point to-morrow morning at four o'clock. It is then that we shall attack. The craft that I shall use will be a Voisin. In it will be only you, my bombardier and myself. Unless an unexpected emergency should arise you will have little to do save be my honored guest. It will be for you the interesting experience, _n'est ce pas_?"

"I should rather say so!" Jimmy drew a sharp breath. "It's the bulliest thing that ever happened to me. I can't begin to find words to thank you, sir."

"You need not try. I understand; _tres bien_," Voissard assured, a smile touching his firm mouth.

With this he dropped the subject of the night's work and directed the conversation toward more impersonal topics.

Outside the village, Jimmy was amazed at the activities of the Allied war machine. All along the way they encountered numbers of motor-lorries, trucks and ambulances traveling over the roads in steady streams. Huge tractors puffed and snorted along in advance of strings of farm wagons. Occasionally a racer, carrying staff officers, shot by them. Once they passed a company of French soldiers on the march from one battle section to another. Frequently motorcycles ridden by despatch men chugged by them. In the fields peasant women and children could be seen preparing the ground for spring planting. It was a varied and interesting panorama that Jimmy gazed upon, wide-eyed and curious.

Arrived at the escadrille, a new world of wonder was opened to him. He saw rows and rows of hangars, housing countless Allied fighting birds.

Though Voissard did not belong to this particular escadrille, he was very much at home there. On the way to the headquarters of the escadrille commander, the Flying Terror was greeted with admiring respect by all whom they chanced to encounter. Everyone appeared to know him, though he ruefully confessed to Jimmy that he could not recall the faces of many of the aviators who claimed his acquaintance.

As the guest of Cousin Emile, Jimmy became also the guest of the escadrille commander. It was almost unbelievable, he thought, that an ordinary Sammy like himself should be eating luncheon with two such great men. Luncheon over, he was taken on a tour about the aviation field and saw new sights to marvel at. Standing somewhat in awe of the commander, a very tall Frenchman with a somewhat austere face, he soon became quite at his ease. Despite his severe expression, "_Mon Captaine_," as Voissard affectionately addressed the commander, was a very human sort of person and treated him with the benevolent friendliness which an older man often displays toward a youngster.

Enjoying himself hugely, Jimmy longed, nevertheless, for the great moment to arrive when he should take his first trip through the clouds. At eight o'clock Voissard and himself both lay down for a few hours' rest before the start. Jimmy was too thoroughly wide awake even to doze off briefly. Now and then, by the faint rays of the night light burning in the room, he consulted his wrist watch. Would two o'clock never come?

Two o'clock, though slow in coming, finally came. Provided by Voissard with the close-fitting head-gear and heavy fur-lined coat of the aviator, the two made their way across the aviation field to the hangar in which the Voisin reposed that Voissard was to fly that night. They found there the bombardier, a slim, alert Frenchman with piercing black eyes. Jimmy grinned in the dark to hear Cousin Emile address the man as Gaston. The name brought humorous recollection of Bob's goat.

Watching Voissard by the flaring light in the hangar, Jimmy observed the workmanlike manner in which the aviator examined his airplane. He tested every point of it, giving the engine a most minute going over.

Meanwhile Gaston was equally busy attending to his own part of the work. He tested the bomb carrier and counted his stock of percussion caps for the bombs. He went over the machine gun, set the clock in the front of the machine to the exact second, tested the altimeter and saw that the compass was correctly hung.

Eleven other bombing planes besides Voissard's were to take part in the expedition. His was the only plane to carry an extra man. The others each had only a pilot and bombardier. Besides the twelve, five lighter, swifter planes, Nieuports all, were to go along as a guard to warn the bombers of the approach of hostile aircraft and to give battle should the heavier planes be obliged to retreat.

To Jimmy it was indeed thrilling to watch plane after plane line up at the end of the field for the start. In the flaring glow cast by powerful lights set at each corner of the field, he could plainly see the faces of the pilots and the bombardiers. They were laughing and talking among themselves, unconcerned by the danger of the detail ahead of them.

Soon pilots and bombardiers were seated in their planes, awaiting the word from the squadron commander who had come down to see them off.

Voissard's plane was to make the first ascent. Seated behind, in the place usually occupied by the observer, Jimmy held his breath as the commander sang out, "All ready!"

"Turn!" shouted Voissard to the mechanician standing beside the plane.

The man spun the propeller and jumped back out of the way. The engine tuned up and then--Jimmy felt the movement of the plane as it began rolling along the field. It gathered speed, then began to rise. At last he knew what it meant to fly.

Higher and higher the plane rose. Far below Jimmy could see the lights of the aviation field as mere pin points. Soon these became completely obliterated. Looking back, Jimmy could make out the other planes stringing in a long succession behind them. Headed straight for the German lines, the Voisin suddenly plunged into a cloud bank and the flying squadron vanished from Jimmy's view.

At length, emerging from the clouds, he could see none of the squadron. He guessed that they were now going through the same bank that had lately engulfed Voissard's plane. His first sensation of dizziness now past, he began to realize that it was very cold up there in the clouds. He was grateful for the warmth of his fur-lined coat. He calculated that they must be sweeping the skies at the rate of at least eighty miles an hour. He wished he might speak to Voissard or Gaston, but the roar of the engine was too great for that. Shouting his loudest he would not be able to make himself heard. He wondered what had become of the squadron. Had they lost their companions so soon?

Keeping up an anxious watch, he saw at last plane after plane reappear. They had won free of the cloud bank. Presently he saw something else. Fifteen hundred feet below him, he could make out red, twisting lines of fire, accompanied by glaring, crimson flashes. He was over his own lines. Those flaming lines and vivid flashes proceeded from the American guns.

Now the plane was beginning to soar higher. Voissard was getting safely above the up-climbing curve of the American shells. On they went. They were now crossing what looked like a dense black patch. Jimmy knew it to be No Man's Land. He could see it plainly, as, ever and again, a star shell rose and bathed it in a radiant, bluish-white light. It was the deadly, cruel land that had claimed poor Schnitz.

Soon the writhing lines of fire were again visible. They had crossed No Man's Land and were over the German lines. Both sides were furiously at it. It was evident to him, even at that height, that Fritz was getting heavier punishment than he was inflicting. The air shock of the explosion of American shells made the plane rock like a ship at sea.

With the German lines safely passed, the plane flew steadily onward toward its objective point. Engaged in keeping track of the squadron, Jimmy felt relieved when, one by one, they began to draw closer. They were gathering for the attack. He decided that it must be nearing four o'clock. From then on he kept his eyes trained downward in an effort to pick up a long, dark outline, which would be the supply train. Though it was still dark it was the gloom that precedes dawn's first faint light. A few minutes and he should be able to see the earth below quite plainly.

Presently Voissard began to spiral down. His example was followed by the pilots of the other planes. With motors shut off the squadron volplaned. Jimmy could now distinguish the thin black line. It appeared to be creeping very slowly. In the bomber's seat, Gaston was making ready to drop his bombs. As flight-captain, Voissard would give the signal. In turn each machine would come to an even keel at a point set, drop its bombs and dart away. Voissard's machine would be the last to go. The whole performance would last hardly more than a minute.

As each plane did its work and scudded off, another took its place. Each bomber strove to land his bombs where they would do the most good. Peering downward with strained eyes, Jimmy saw and heard that which filled him with delirious joy. Amid continuous explosions and angry tongues of fire, the long black line appeared suddenly to completely dissolve, and disappear. Few of the bombs had missed their mark. Jimmy could well imagine the devastation attending that raid.

It was over now. Gaston had done his bit and Voissard was flying for home. Directly behind him came the fighting Nieuports, ready to cover the retreat of the bombing planes. They would be needed. Across the rapidly coming dawn half a dozen German Aviatiks were hastening to the fray. From below Boche antiaircraft guns were now pegging at the returning bombing party.

The speed of the Aviatik being very great, five of them soon drew upon the Nieuports and attacked them viciously. The first Aviatik to the scene swept straight over in pursuit of Voissard, opening fire upon the plane. Very trickily it kept behind and a little lower, thus making it impossible for Gaston to pepper it with machine-gun bullets.

Voissard, however, had no intention of permitting the Aviatik this liberty. By a clever ruse he caused his plane to dive sharply, as though hit and disabled. Allowing it to careen wildly for an instant, he made a lightning drop in front of the German plane, then swept past it like a flash. When he again brought it to an even keel it was under the Boche plane and a little to its rear.

Gaston whooped with joy and turned the machine gun upon it. Incidental with this, one of the Nieuports came to the rescue. Under a heavy fusillade the Aviatik promptly took to her heels and sailed out of danger.

Again Voissard took up the homeward flight. The plane was still behind the Boche lines when a well directed shell from a German Archie grazed it, causing it to pitch violently. The shock of the explosion, coupled with the wild rocking, would have thrown Jimmy out of the plane had he not been securely strapped in. He saw Gaston clap a hand to his breast and crumple. Splinters flew from one of the struts. The plane continued to stagger. It was dropping now. Yes, Voissard was still at the controls, working like a madman to keep the plane under guidance. Still the rushing descent continued. Jimmy felt a queer giddiness sweep over him in long, sickening waves. This was the end.