The two observers gave what help they could, their faces white and their hands shaking and their ears tingling as they worked. The whole scene after the passing of the destroyers was heart-rending and pitiful and far too horrible for description. And the cruel part of it was that it was all such useless destruction, such wanton savagery, such a brutal and wilful slaughter of the innocents. The low-fliers were too close down for there to be any possibility of their not knowing well what they were shooting and bombing. There was not a sign of a uniform on the road; it was packed with what clearly and unmistakably was a crowd of refugees, of helpless women and children. It was hard to imagine what the Huns hoped to gain, what object they could have had in such indiscriminate murder; but, object or no object, its happening is a matter of cold history.
It was growing late when the two observers, continuing their journey, saw a distant aerodrome, made their way across the fields to it, explained themselves, and were offered dinner first, and then transport back to their unit.
The two told their tale of the day while they waited with the Squadron for dinner to be served. It was dark by this time, and an annoying delay came before dinner in the shape of an order to put all lights out, and in the droning approach of some enemy bombers. They passed somewhere overhead, and the machine-gun defences fired a few streams of ineffectual bullets up at them. One bomb whistled and shrieked down and burst noisily a few hundred yards from the 'drome and others farther afield. The pilots and the two observers were collected again just outside the door of the mess listening to the distant drone of the Hun bombers, watching the flicker and jump of gun flashes in the horizon and a red glare that rose in a wide steady glow from one or two points. It was an unpleasant reminder of the trying time the Army was having, of the retreat they had made, of the stores and dumps that had been fired to prevent the enemy taking possession of them.
One of the pilots—a youngster of under twenty, with two wound stripes on his cuff—laughed suddenly. "That Hun bomber just about rounds off a complete day of frightfulness for you two fellows," he said. "You have had a lively time, one way and another."
"We have," said Dixie. "I've had thrills enough for this day to fill a boy's adventure library full an' overflowin'."
"Too many for me," said the Boy, "when I think of watching that man go down with an unopened parachute."
"It was worse seeing that Hun come down the road," said Dixie, "and bein' able to do nothin' to stop him. An' when I think of that mother with a dead baby, an' that kid—a girl—about five years old, that an explosive bullet——" And he stopped abruptly.
There was silence for a minute, broken by the young pilot.
"Speaking of thrills," he said, and laughed again, "there was a paragraph—some of you will remember how we grinned over it. Wonder if I could find the paper? It would tickle you diving balloonatics especially. I'll see," and he disappeared into the mess-room and began to hunt round with an electric torch.
He found the paper and brought it out and read the paragraph by the light of his torch. It was headed "60,000 Thrills," and it ran:[7] "A Blanktown cable, received by the Chief Representative for Blancountry, states: At an aquatic carnival, held by the Big Stone Swimming Club at Light Falls, there was an attendance of 60,000. The proceeds go to the Soldier's Fund. Prince Walkiyick—known as Alec Walker the Middle Seas sprint champion—dived from a height of 200 feet into the water. He was two seconds in the air and thrilled the spectators with his exploit."