“A big enemy battleplane gets separated from the group. In just two seconds two of our force pounce upon it. The huge machine battles skillfully for a while. Then we force it into a bad position, and rain upon it a terrible storm of bullets from our machine guns. The big battleplane goes down, but fighting to the last.
“Night approaches and envelops the earth with a blanket of darkness. Powerful searchlights from below, each of which is a wonderful instrument, scan the heavens with beams of ghostly white and yellow. The aeroplanes still struggle. The constant flashes from the bursting shells are even more terrible than in the day time. The scene is still more hideous when an unfortunate aviator takes the fatal plunge, his machine ablaze. One of our fine biplanes makes a mistake and gets right in line with an enemy’s gun. The foe’s machine-gun bullets penetrate its gasoline tank. It explodes in mid-air, and the biplane rushes to earth in a roaring blaze.”
“Who wins this great battle?” broke in Tom.
“Well, I’m getting to that now,” said Uncle Sam.
“Tom, you ought to be ashamed of yourself. You have done nothing but interrupt during the whole story,” declared Jack.
THE BATTLEPLANES STRUGGLE IN THE NIGHT
“Now, don’t you boys start quarreling. You might get in a worse scrape than the aeroplanes I’m telling about.
“Now I’ll get back to my story again:
