The Boy Volunteers with the French Airmen. Kenneth Ward
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straighten you out in a few days," answered the doctor, "but your companion didn't fare as well. Compound fracture of one leg; but he has a good constitution; he's good for several trips yet."
The gratitude of the lieutenant was plainly observable, and the doctor was quick to notice it. "If these young men hadn't taken you out when they did it would have been all over with you, because the weight prevented you from breathing."
The lieutenant tried to smile, as he gazed at the boys, and they understood.
When the ambulance reached the hospital there were fifty or more aviators from the station, awaiting the news. The boys leaped out, the attendants were on hand with the stretchers, while the excited men crowded around the boys to learn the details. It was not long before the story of the rescue was known. The chief of the flying squadron came out of the hospital, and approached the boys. The latter straightened up and saluted.
"You should be commended for the prompt work you performed in rescuing the lieutenant and his pilot. I understand you belong to the Belgian army; but you are not Belgians, are you?" he asked.
"No, we are not," said Alfred, slightly embarrassed at the question.
The Commandant smiled as he continued: "I take it that you are Americans?"
"Yes, Captain; you are right," replied Ralph. "We joined the Belgian army at Liege, and fought the enemy all the way to Antwerp, and we had some pretty hot times, too."
This speech was applauded heartily, while a young man sprang forward, held out his hand and said: "And here's United States, too."
"We are not with the army now," said Alfred, recovering; "we hope to go to Paris, if it is possible to get there."
"The chances for that are not very good at present," observed the Commandant, "but in the meantime, if you are not attached, you must put up with us."
"Thank you for the offer," said Ralph eagerly. "We want to get into the flying service; that will just suit us."
"I am afraid that the army provisions would not permit you to join," said the officer, and all noted the expressions of disappointment that indicated the boys' feelings at this announcement.
"Then I suppose we'll have to force our way in, just as we did in Belgium," said Alfred.
This was greeted with a sally of laughter. The boys had made a hit with the corps, and they accepted the offer of quarters for their accommodation in the firm belief that something would turn up to assist them in their desires.
Boys are really at a disadvantage sometimes. This story, as well as many others, shows that they are capable of doing things as well as men, and that they can do some things better than most men; but in military matters the service seems to have been made for grown-up people on the principle that war is too barbarous a thing for young men until they are twenty years of age.
The boys, who were now in their glory, had a portion of a small room in a wooden building assigned to them. At this time there were fifty machines of various types on the ground, the particular makes being the Bristol, the B. E., several Farman machines, and a half dozen Sopworth tractors.
Tom Walton, the young American who greeted them at the hospital, was accorded the privilege of escorting the boys and introducing them. That they had been in the first battles of the war was sufficient to give them a coveted place in that company of enthusiastic men, for there was some glory in having been on a battlefield,—a thing which could have been said of only a few of those who entertained them that day.
"I suppose you want to see the machines," said Tom.
"Indeed, we do," said Alfred. "What is that big machine over there?"
"That is a Bristol," answered Tom.
"And there is another one," remarked Ralph, pointing to a machine, which was being drawn out of the hangar.
"No, that's a B. E. biplane," answered Tom. "You will see the difference by observing the shape of the planes. The Bristol has the ends of the wings rounded so that the forward corners are cut away to a greater extent than the rear corners. In the B. E. the wings are cut to conform with the well-known Wright type."
"That's a Farman machine, I know," said Ralph, pointing to an aeroplane which had a huge revolving type of motor forward of the main planes.
"Yes; but when that machine is high in the air it would be difficult to recognize it from that description," said Tom. "You will notice that the lower plane is much shorter than the upper plane, and that it has a great spreading tail,—larger than any other machine now made."
"Here is another kind, a little fellow. That certainly looks different from all the others," said Alfred, as they stopped in front of a hangar.
"That's the Sopworth tractor, a fine, speedy machine, with square ends to the planes, and a heart-shaped tail. It can be distinguished at any altitude," answered Tom.
"I notice that that has different tails," said Ralph. "Does that make any difference in the flying?"
"Not in the least. Shape has nothing to do with it. Surface is all that counts. They are made with distinctive forms so that they may be easily distinguished, one from the other."
"We saw some German airplanes, several dozens of them, in Belgium, and the only one I could recognize was the Taube, as they called it. They have fan-shaped tails," said Alfred.
"But here is the machine for business," said Tom, as they halted in front of a gaily decorated hangar, and pointed to a trim little machine, which was being overhauled.
"I see you have the Stars and Stripes above the door," said Ralph.
"Yes; and this is my machine; isn't it a beauty?" said Tom with a considerable show of pride.
"What is it? I mean what make?" asked Alfred.
"It is a French Morane; I have made many trips in it," said Tom, "and now I am going to use it against the Dutchies."
Thus they were conducted from place to place, visited the machine shop, which had been set up for repairs, and then inspected the landing field, which was designed to be illuminated for night work.
"Do you mean to say that you use the flying machines at night?" asked Ralph.
"Why, certainly; that is going to be a great stunt," said Tom. "The only trouble is that where there are many lights about it is pretty hard for a pilot to hunt out the landing place, so the authorities have made special provision for returning aviators to enable them to land with as much safety as in the daytime."
"How is it arranged so they can land without a mistake?" asked Alfred.
"Do you see that tall pylon, over there?" replied Tom. "That has on it the pilot light, much more brilliant than anything in sight. Now, look over to the left, nearly a quarter of a mile away; that pylon carries a brilliant red light. The other two pylons to the north and to the south have blue lights. The aviator knows that the bright light is to the east of the red light, and that he must make a landing somewhere between the brilliant light and the red light, between the limits marked by the blue lights."
"I should think that would be easy," said Ralph.
"It is when the night is clear; but the trouble is that the fog from the channel gives us considerable trouble, and then we have to glide back and forth very low to get our bearings, and that is dangerous business in the night."
The inspection raised the enthusiasm of the boys to the highest pitch. For them there was now no other life than flying, and, indeed, things seemed to be coming their way. They had learned more about machines during the two hours thus spent than they had acquired in all their lives previous to that time.
"I want to ask a favor of you," said Alfred, as they were returning to their quarters.
"Go ahead," said Tom.
"I would like to go up in a machine with you," was the reply.
Tom stopped, and looked at Alfred. "Do you really mean it?" he asked.
"Of course I do," replied Alfred.
"That's what I want to do, too," chimed in Ralph.
"It's