For three more days the retirement, under excessive pressure, continued; and during the whole of that time massed squadrons of air-craft were continuously in the air—bombing, machine-gunning, undertaking reconnaissance work, and altogether making things very uncomfortable for the Huns. But there were undoubted evidences that the greatly-advertised Boche offensive was slowing down. Already the advance through Noyon towards Paris was an admitted failure, and both British and French, assisted by small American forces, were preparing for the gigantic counter-attack. Fritz had shot his bolt and had missed his target.
CHAPTER VIII
The Hun Bomber
The Flight-Sergeant surveyed GV 7 dispassionately. It was part of his job to condemn unserviceable machines, and the frequency of having to do it bored him.
"It's a wonder you got back, sir," he reported. "Why the motors didn't konk out puzzles me, and there's hardly a strut that's perfect. No, sir; I can't pass her. May as well set her on fire and have done with it."
And so GV 7, after a week of gallant and strenuous service, received her death-warrant. At the best of times the life of an aeroplane is a brief one, and in active-service conditions the wastage is simply astounding. Every machine must be of the very best workmanship possible and kept in perfect tune, otherwise it must be scrapped and replaced by another of the vast quantity turned out in the numerous air-craft factories at home.
Derek heard the mandate, against which there was no appeal, with genuine regret. In a few days he had gained an affection for his old 'bus, much as a cavalryman does for his charger. Nevertheless he realized that the verdict was a just one. He, too, could not help wondering how the badly-scarred biplane had brought down her crew in safety, for there were thirty-three holes in the wings and tail-planes and seven perforations of the fuselage, while most of the struts were chipped and several of the tension-wires severed.
Accordingly the motors were removed, together with the more important fittings. These towed to a safe distance, the doomed battleplane was set on fire. Her late pilot watched her burn. It was a sight that fascinated him. It was as though he had destroyed a favourite dog. He waited until nothing but a charred mass remained, and then made his way back to the newly-erected aerodrome—quite twenty miles farther back than the one abandoned on the night of his first flight across the enemy lines.
"I'll have to find the Equipment Officer," thought Derek, "and get him to let me have another 'bus. Wonder where his show is?"