“That will give us another look at you soon,” rejoiced Henri, “for our craft is going to be mighty close to the front when the real push is made.”
Within forty-eight hours the boys witnessed the embarking of all the Anglo-French forces, with the exception of a few battalions left at Mudros, for renewed assault on the Turkish defenses of the Gallipoli peninsula. François was among the departing troops, and with farewell words of gay assurance that he would soon meet again his brother and Billy.
Lieutenant Moppa, enthused over the reports of aviation activity at Smryna, and determined to give the “Sikorsky” another long-distance try-out, ordered immediate flight toward the coast of Asia Minor.
“Barring a storm disturbance,” declared the officer in command, “our four engines ought to hit the high mark of going this time.”
On this journey the barometer proved not at all fractious, and it was easy sailing.
The aviators found a large number of troop transports off Smyrna, and on the very day of the arrival of the big airship a French airman dropped two bombs on Fort Kastro, killing several soldiers; another sank a German ship lying in port, and a third struck the railroad station.
“Those French flyers certainly are a busy lot,” commented Lieutenant Moppa. The occupants of the “Sikorsky,” in coming on high, had a full and open view of these effective aeroplane maneuvers.
The aviators on the Russian craft were also impressed with the fact that about 40,000 Turks were engaged in the defense of Smyrna, well entrenched on heights commanding the city.
Constantinople had just contributed thirty heavy guns to the equipment of the defenders.
Joining the allies in the offing, the mammoth machine, which dwarfed the other planes to small proportions by comparison, excited much curiosity, and attracted many ceremonial visits from the officers of the attacking forces.