The Boy Volunteers with the French Airmen

The boys were both within, as well as three men and a surgeon. They had heard no orders, but knew they were bound for the battlefield. There was no talking indulged in. The men were too intently engaged in listening to the din of the conflict, and watching the soldiers moving to and fro.

"Has there been much of a fight?" asked Ralph.

"They have been at it all morning," said one of the men. Then, glancing at the boys, he continued: "But this is a bad place for you youngsters."

"I am afraid you will regret it before you return. The scenes are awful," continued the man.

"We know what it is," said Alfred. "We saw the worst kind of fighting in Belgium."

"We were with the English in the battle east of Soissons, and had some experience there," said Ralph.

"Aren't you English?" asked the surgeon.

"Oh, no; we're Americans," replied Alfred.

At this point a lieutenant rode up alongside, and shouted: "There has been a tough scrap at the mill; we have driven the Germans back; take this road down to the river; you will find plenty of poor fellows there who will need you."

The French had made a terrific charge at this point, and many were lying dead, where the van slowed down, so as to give the surgeon and helpers an opportunity to pick out the wounded cases.

Wherever there was a movement in a prone figure the men stopped and made an examination. In some cases the wounds were hurriedly dressed, and the victim's position rendered comfortable. In other cases the surgeon motioned to the helpers, who quickly brought the stretchers, and carried the wounded into the van.

On this single trip they attended, or gave first aid to thirty, but only the most severely injured were taken into the van, which now turned and quickly speeded along the narrow road to the field hospital. Reaching this station the men were carefully taken out, their wounds re-examined, and carried into a temporary shelter for a second operation or treatment.

A huge van then arrived from the southwest. Carefully and tenderly eight men were placed on the cots within, the boys being delegated to assist. When the order was given to leave, the boys remained in the van, as it started out on its journey, but they didn't have the least idea where it was bound, although you may be sure they were curious to know.

After every one had settled down,—that is, if such a thing as quiet and comfort were possible in a van load of wounded men, Ralph turned to the surgeon, and said. "Where are we going?"

"To Paris, if we can get through," was the reply.

The van had a wonderful set of springs, so that, although it was necessary hour after hour to go through fields, instead of traveling along the road, there was little discomfort to the wounded men.

"Why are the men being taken to Paris?" asked Alfred.

"So as to relieve the emergency station behind the battle front," explained the surgeon. "That is one thing; the other is, that the great German forces are driving in our comparatively small army, until the Paris forts are reached. There they will be stopped, and we must take our wounded with us, and out of the reach of the enemy."

At Dammartin they saw the first Red Cross railway van,—an entire train load, filled with wounded from the emergency stations, and here also they were joined by fifteen vans taking the wounded on to the city. It was thus a fortunate stroke for the boys that they undertook to help the field hospital workers, for it directly assisted them in their effort to reach the end of their journey.

Traveling was slow, and many detours were necessary, so it was not until the fourth day of September that they caught sight of the walls of Paris, and they soon had the pleasure of driving over the beautiful smooth streets again. They went directly to the center of the city, passed down the rue de l'Opéra, through the Place de la Concorde, and over the bridge to a hospital near the Place des Invalides.

Their charges in the van were soon provided for, and carried into comfortable berths. As they were leaving the ward, they heard a weak voice calling: "Ralph; Alfred."

They were startled, and turned around with wondering glances. A nurse motioned to them, and pointed toward a figure with bandaged head and arms. They approached.

"You don't know me, I suppose?" said the voice.

"No,—no," said Ralph.

"I believe it's Tom," said Alfred.

"Right," said the voice.

The boys knelt down at his side at once. "How did it happen?" asked Alfred.

"Well, they got me first; but I brought down two of them before I was hit," Tom told them.

"What became of the machine?" was Alfred's next question.

"I don't remember anything about it," was the reply, "but they told me it made fine kindling wood."

"Too bad!" consoled Alfred. "I liked that little Morane; and to think it's all broken up."

"How did you get here?" asked Tom.

"Why, we came down with the Red Cross people," explained Ralph.

"You seem to get into all sorts of trouble, all along the line," said Tom with an attempt to laugh.

"But are you badly hurt?" inquired Alfred anxiously.

"The doctors say that there are only a few bones broken, several joints wrenched out of shape, and some of the bark peeled off, but I ought to be out in a few weeks," said Tom.

"Tell us what we ought to do now?" Alfred asked him.

"What do you mean?"

"Why, I want to know whether they will expect us to keep on in the Red Cross service?"

"You volunteered, didn't you?" replied Tom. "You helped them out of your free will, and you can leave whenever you want to, if that's what you are getting at."

"I wouldn't mind volunteering in the aviation corps," said Ralph. "I would just like–"

"So they got you this time, eh?" said a voice.

The boys turned, and saw a handsome man with the uniform of a lieutenant in the aviation service, who approached, and leaned over Tom. Tom replied with a smile, and raising his injured hand, pointed to the boys.

"Lieutenant," he said, "I want you to get acquainted with two of my American friends, who have been in the thick of it right from the start. Now you'll be conferring a special favor if you can take them in to help you out. Oh, they're bricks," continued Tom, as he saw a shade of discouragement in the lieutenant's features, "they are made of the right stuff."

"We leave for Verdun in the morning," said the lieutenant, "but I will see what can be done in the meantime."

As they left the hospital the first thought was to go to the Continental Hotel to try to get a trace of Alfred's father. Arriving there a letter was handed them, together with two telegrams from Berne, Switzerland, one of the messages having been received that very day. The missives informed him that his father had not been able to leave German territory until the twenty-eighth of August, and as he had received word that the Germans were approaching Paris he thought it unwise to make the trip to that point, but would await word from them before deciding what to do.

"How far is it from Berne to Verdun?" Alfred asked the clerk.

"About three hundred kilometers," was the reply.

"Let's see; that's about two hundred miles," said Alfred. "And it's a hundred and fifty miles to Verdun.

"Then we'll go to Verdun," said Ralph. "But how?"

The subject was debated for an hour, when it was decided to return to the hospital. They had forgotten to learn the lieutenant's name, although probably Tom knew how to reach him, they reasoned.

Arriving at the hospital they learned that Tom was asleep, and that no one would be permitted to see him, so they wandered around without the slightest idea what course to pursue. They even discussed the feasibility of walking to Verdun, but that idea was soon abandoned.

"I wonder where the aviation grounds are?" remarked Ralph.

They soon learned that several corps were located at the great race course in the Bois de Boulogne, and they were soon on the underground railway speeding to the nearest station in that vicinity. Arriving at the grounds they approached the entrance, and their hearts sank as they saw a great crowd gathered, and one after the other turned away.

"Chances of getting in seem to be pretty slim," said Alfred.

"Well, we might try it, anyhow," said Ralph, as he pushed forward.

They marched up to the gate, and passed through without the least objection on the part of the guards. This was the greatest surprise to both. They had forgotten that the uniforms they wore gave them admittance without question. Evidently they were taken for army messengers.

"See that American flag?" shouted Ralph.

"That's the place for us," replied Alfred.

Accordingly, they lost no time in making for the hangar on which the emblem appeared. They saw a Farman machine partly outside of the hangar, and in the body of it was seated a ruddy-faced chap.

"What's up?" he asked.

"Came over to help you out," said Alfred.

He looked down, and slowly said: "You did, eh?"

"Well, we've seen a little active service at the front, so far," explained Ralph, "been in battle several times, have been captured by the Germans, helped to build trenches, worked with the Red Cross people, and had a few flights in an airplane, and as we like aviation business best of all, we thought we'd come over and go to work."

The airman raised himself, sat down on the side of the car body, and commenced to laugh, although Ralph's remark was said without the least tinge of pride or boasting. Several from the adjoining hangars came in to learn the cause of the boisterous mirth.

"Well, that's fresh enough to come from real American boys," he said, after he had sobered down a little.

"That's right; we're from the United States; we came here because we saw the flag on the outside; what shall we do the first thing?" said Alfred.

"From America?" said the man, climbing down from the machine. "And you are regular Yankees? Well, well; that's too good! I'm something of an American myself. By jingo, you're the kind of fellows to have around. Want a job? Where did you get your uniforms? They look all right."

"Oh, these are Belgian uniforms. We were with them, you know, and had a pretty hot time, too," said Ralph.

This information, as they now knew, was the best credential possible, and they were soon the center of an admiring crowd. Somehow the determined matter of fact and positive way which the boys adopted had the effect of winning their way, and it was thus that they had the satisfaction of entering a service which it is a most difficult thing to do even with the best credentials.

The happiness of the boys was complete when their new friend told them to get up on the machine, and help him to take out the engine. Coats came off in a hurry, and they looked around for some substitute to protect their clothing.

Their friend supplied the necessary articles at once remarking as he did so that he ought to know their names.

After this information was supplied, he remarked: "My name is Martin; Bill Martin, Fifth Aviation Corps; don't forget the Corps or you may have trouble in getting into the grounds; and, by the way, how did you happen to get through?"

"If you mean the gates, why, we just walked right through," said Alfred.

"Just as though you had a right to do so!" said Martin, as he again commenced to laugh. "You said you were up in an airplane; where was that?"

"Up at Dunkirk, and back of the firing line, south of the St. Quentin," said Ralph.

"Do you know Tom Watkins?" asked Alfred.

"Do I know Tom? Why, we came over together; poor fellow, he got a bad fall," said Martin.

"We heard about it and saw him at the hospital today," said Alfred.

"You don't say? So you've been flying with Tom? I'm glad to know that," said Martin, as he nodded his head approvingly.

CHAPTER VII

BOUND FOR VERDUN

For three days more the boys wandered about Paris,—three days of the most fearful suspense; and then began the battle of the Marne. Every airplane in and about Paris was at the front, on the line somewhere, and the boys were deprived of the opportunity to see the new friend they had made at the Bois de Boulogne station.

They were so sure of being able to go to Verdun that Albert wrote to his father of their plans, in the hope that he would consider it wise to leave Switzerland for that point, where they might meet.

The Germans had been defeated; Paris was safe, the French line having held firmly all the way to Verdun. The determination to go there was firmly fixed in their minds, but they could see no way to accomplish the purpose. A visit to Tom at the hospital only resulted in their being told that the lieutenant was in the field, no one knew where.

"I have an idea," said Ralph, as they emerged from their room one morning.

"What is it?" asked Alfred.

"We might get attached to the Red Cross some way, and that would be sure to take us to the front," replied Ralph.

"That would be just as hard as to get in with the flying people," answered Alfred.

"That may be so, too, but I can't see any other way."

They again called at the Continental Hotel in the hope that there might be some further news. To their surprise they found a letter from Alfred's father with a check for their personal expenses. While reading the letter they overheard a conversation which gave them the solution, as they thought, of their difficulties.

"No," said a voice, "they will not ticket us to any point near the firing line, but we might go to St. Dizier, and from there work our way north."

"Good idea; let's book at once," said the second voice.

"Come on," said Alfred. "That's the right tip. Let's find out where St. Dizier is."

The clerk informed them: "It is about a hundred and sixty miles east of Paris."

"Then it can't be far from Verdun," remarked Alfred.

"Sixty miles southwest, I should judge," was the answer.

"Do you think we would have any trouble in reaching that point?" asked Ralph.

"I think the trains are still running, but they may not adhere to the regular schedule. The line runs south of the war zone, you know," said the clerk.

That settled it. They hurried to the Banque Française, and having secured currency for the check, started for the booking office as fast as they could walk. It was impossible at this time to get a conveyance as only the underground railways and a few tram cars were in service, the government having requisitioned all the horses, and automobiles a week previous to this time.

They booked second class, the official stating that the tickets were sold at the risk of the holders, and that they would have to take their chances on the trains, so they were at the eastern railway station before one o'clock, in the hope that the regular through train at two that day would be able to accommodate them. In this they were disappointed, so they waited about until five o'clock, and had the good fortune to have the tickets accepted by the gateman.

They passed through an immense crowd of newly arrived soldiers, and were jostled about by hosts of men, women and children who were departing for the southeast, most of them bound for Chaumont. Within an hour they finally found a train bound for their destination, but it was another hour before the train began to move.

The trip was a weary one all through the night, as they seemed to stop at every station, although it was the fast express. The intense excitement of the people all along the line; the passing of trains; the crying out of the latest news; and the bustle of the new arrivals in the already crowded compartments, made sleep impossible. The sun had been up two hours before the station of St. Dizier was announced.

The boys were out and scampering along the platform ahead of most of the crowd. As they passed out the end of the station they noticed a sign on a train: "For Bar-le-Duc, 10 o'clock."

"Let's see where that place is," said Alfred.

The information was obtained. It was twenty kilometers northeast.

"That's the place we must go; it's twenty miles toward Verdun, and now is our time," said Ralph.

"Let's have something to eat first," said Alfred.

After the meal they booked for Bar-le-Duc, and this train started promptly. Only two coaches were reserved for civilians, the others being filled with soldiers. The town, which was reached shortly before noon, had the appearance of an armed camp. Here they received the startling news that the Germans were at St. Mihiel, thirty-five miles northeast of that place.

There was no sign of panic there, however. Verdun, Toul and Nancy were still intact, and there was no fear that either place would yield.

Before they had been in the city an hour they saw a dozen or more airplanes overhead, and it was not long thereafter until they learned that one of the most famous stations belonging to the flyers was located north of the place. A conveyance was readily obtained, as a line of busses paralleled the railway track, and in another hour they were on the plateau where the great hangars were located.

As they were crossing the field, and approaching the first tier of hangars the boys noticed the two men whose conversation had been overheard in the Continental hotel. "They are the very men," said Alfred; "I wonder what they are here for?"

The men stopped and looked at the boys for an instant. Ralph approached them and said, with a smile: "You beat us here after all."

The men appeared to be puzzled at being thus addressed. Alfred saw that they did not understand Ralph's greeting, and said: "We are under obligations to you for telling us how to get here, and I want to thank you."

"I don't exactly understand," said one of the men.

"We heard you talking about making this trip, and as we wanted to get to the front without knowing just how to do it, your conversation helped us out," said Ralph.

"I'll bet you're American boys," said one of them, laughing.

"Indeed, we are," said Alfred.

"Belong to the service?" asked the other.

"Oh, yes," answered Ralph,—"that is, we did belong to it."

"Which branch?" asked the man.

"Messenger service in Belgium, aviation and trench service with the English, and Red Cross in the French army," answered Alfred.

This response was answered by hearty laughter on the part of both men, and one of them responded: "That is a pretty comprehensive service, I should say."

"Where are you from?" asked the other.

"New York," answered Ralph. "Why, you look like Americans, too."

"We're from the same place," was the answer.

"And you look like newspaper men," remarked Alfred.

"That's a good guess," was the reply. "But how did you know?" he asked.

"I saw you taking notes as we walked across the field," answered Alfred.

"Good inference," he replied. "Are you looking for a job?"

"Yes, we're going into the aviation service," answered Ralph, with all the assurance of a winner.

"See you again," was the final reply, as the two men left them.

"Now, I wonder if they have any American flags at this place?" remarked Ralph.

They marched back and forth without a sign of that much desired emblem. At one of the hangars two men were tugging at a machine, and slowly bringing it out of the hangar. Without a word the boys sprang forward and assisted in the operation, an act which brought thanks from the men. Then, more in curiosity than anything else, they slowly walked around the machine and examined its construction.

The aviator watched them for a few moments. Evidently, to his mind, the boys knew all about flying machines, or, at least, must have had some acquaintance with them. This seemed to interest him, and he began a conversation with them. He soon learned their history, and bestowed words of praise on them for what they had done.

"So you want to be aviators, eh?" he inquired.

"Yes, and we'll do anything to get in," said Alfred.

"To be aviators in the service of the Government it will be necessary to take the Regulation course," said the man.

"There isn't time for that," said Ralph. "We can help out now, even if we don't do any flying, can't we?"

The man chuckled. "I suppose you can tighten up bolts, examine, and stretch the stay wires, and things like that?" he remarked.

"As well as take out the engine and overhaul it," added Ralph.

"Well, yes; that's a pretty good job; do you think you could do that?" he asked.

"Why, yes; we know something about it," replied Ralph.

"Well, stay around here; we want some handy fellows; but I'm afraid you'll have a hard job to get on the pay roll," he added.

"Never mind about that end of it; we want to be doing something; that's the main thing," said Alfred.

It would not be interesting to go through the long details of work that the boys entered into under those circumstances. Each day for more than two months the boys found plenty of work to do. They became general favorites at the camp, and while their services were not recognized in an official way, as the regulations did not permit of the employment of minors, still, in view of the fact that they had such an interesting history, and had entered into the work with such zest the commandant at the station permitted them to remain, and eventually provided them with rations and quarters, to which was added a small pay, such as attached to those in the messenger service.

During this period the boys had many opportunities to go aloft on practice drills, and on more than one occasion they had the privilege of operating the machines while in flight, accompanied, of course, by the regular pilots. Attached to the station were a half-dozen machines used for the purpose of teaching control, and to enable pupils to become familiar with the handling of the machines. They were designed merely to skim the ground, the power being so limited that they could not be raised from the ground except for very short glides. These the boys frequently used, and the experienced aviators were greatly pleased at their wonderful progress. It was a strict rule, however, that none but regularly licensed aviators should pilot the government machines, and that prohibited them from handling the machines on regular service.

It was during the second week of the third month that the boys had the first opportunity of showing their capabilities. During a trial flight with sub-lieutenant Guyon, while at an altitude of five thousand feet, Ralph noticed the machine dart downwardly, and, glancing back, saw Guyon's head fall forward, and his hand drop from the lever.

Without waiting to inform Alfred he crawled out of the pit, and seizing the control lever, pushed it back in time to bring the ship to an even keel. Alfred saw the motion, and followed Ralph. Together they succeeded in drawing the pilot to one side, thus enabling Ralph to let himself down into the position which enabled him to handle the lateral controls, that were operated by the feet.

With Ralph thus fully in control of the machine, Alfred turned his attention to poor Guyon, who tried to raise his head, and occasionally gasped, as though trying to recover his breath. It was not until the machine was nearing the earth that he opened his eyes, and seemed to realize his position, but he was too weak to give any instructions or render assistance.

Ralph made a good landing, and the moment the machine ceased to move Alfred jumped from it, and ran to the office of the surgeon.

"Something is the matter with the lieutenant!" he cried, as he entered the door.

"What is the trouble? Where is he?" asked the surgeon, as he moved out of the door in response to Alfred's appeal.

"He was taken sick while we were in the air," said Alfred.

"And how did you happen to get down safely?" asked the surgeon.

"We took charge of the machine," replied Alfred.

"Who are we?" he asked.

"Ralph and myself; we were up with him."

The lieutenant was being taken from the machine when the surgeon arrived. Restoratives were at once applied, and within a half hour the attack seemed to wear itself away, and he began to show a normal color.

His eyes rested on Alfred when he awoke from the first quiet nap, and raising his hand approvingly said: "That was a good job, Alfred; couldn't have been better."

"What do you mean?" asked Alfred.

"You brought us down all right, I mean," he replied.