One French pilot in connection with a bombing escadrille, where they use much heavier and more clumsy machines than the fighting Nieuports, was returning with comrades from a long flight into the enemy’s country, when they were suddenly attacked by a number of German fighting planes.
What is known as an “incendiary” bullet pierced the gasolene reservoir of this particular pilot, and ignited the contents. The pilot instantly realized that he was doomed beyond any hope, and determined not to die alone, he turned his machine sharply about and dashed headlong straight for one of his pursuers.
Vainly did the German endeavor to avoid the contact. There was a sickening crash, and both machines, as well as the pilots, fell half a mile to the earth.
Another story that was told in a matter-of-fact way as though it might be only an account of a daily occurrence, was of a pilot who chanced to find himself far over the enemy’s country, and flying parallel with an important line of railroad.
As he continued on he overtook a crowded troop train going in the same general direction. Inspired by a spirit of mad adventure, and believing he had run across a splendid opportunity to strike a blow for his country, this French pilot darted low down, and commenced raking the train with his machine-gun until he had utterly exhausted the magazine.
Then, not yet satisfied, he caught up with the madly running engine, and shot both the driver and his firing assistant, using his revolver for this purpose. Just beyond there was a sharp turn, and the wildly running train, with no hand at the throttle of the engine, took this at full speed. It left the rails, and plunged into a ravine, where the cars were piled up in a heap, and hundreds of the troops killed.
Tom and Jack had a room given to them. It chanced to be empty just then, because of a sad tragedy that had taken place not long before their arrival, in which one of the brightest lights in the escadrille had gone out forever.
As both youths were very tired they slept well, though now and then a heavy burst of gunfire from a point not far removed aroused them from their slumber. In time however they would become so accustomed to such things as to pay little attention to them. Those who live for days and weeks and months in almost constant contact with fighting armies by degrees get accustomed to almost any sort of noise.
Then came the morning that would ever be marked with a white stone in their memories. After breakfast, with some of the pilots, Tom and Jack prepared to witness the bustling scenes almost hourly taking place at the camp of the escadrille where the hangars were situated, and where most of the mechanicians and other workers are quartered, so they can look after the numerous machines.
The boys already knew that the pilots were not expected to do anything in connection with their machines save fly in them and fight, thus carrying out their perilous air service. They are the drivers, and there is a host of workers and mechanicians on hand ready to run the planes back into their hangars after the pilots have alighted, and to see that the machines are properly cleaned and have a full supply of petrol and oil; in fact do everything necessary to put them in first class condition for work.