Wing Shooting With a Rifle

The blessed, the brave, the indispensable Red Cross! Just back of the pit, exposed to the vicious German fire and yet intent only upon the duty of mercy, the panting ambulances were being loaded with their precious, their pitiful human freight soon to be billeted in warm, clean, homey hospitals far in the rear where German shells, even from the biggest guns, might seldom reach. And laboriously through the mud the springy cars went away, one at a time.

"Herb, I'd like to have been with ye to help stop those devils, but I couldn't. And if ye can't, how can ye? Now I mebbe never can. It's a fine, good, hard, tryin' old world, it is, Herb. As me old granddad in Ireland used to say: 'Whurrah, me lad, but life's mainly disappointin'.' I know what they'll do to me, me boy. They'll leave me go round as if I was playin' hop scotch as long as I live, but faith, no longer. Me leg'll have to come off, Herb; I know it will. But what of it? It's all in the game."

"I don't believe it, Roy, old man; I think not," the corporal made answer, sick at heart.

"Come see me at the hospital, Corporal," groaned Smith, rolling his eyes, that told of suffering, toward his chief. "That is, if I'm still sticking round there when you can get relieved. If I'm still above ground I'll look for you."

"Say, Corporal, I want to thank you for being good to me; always jolly and kind, even when I felt like grumbling. Will you do me a big favor? You see I can't write with this arm; never can, I guess. Won't you just drop a line to dad and mother? You have my home address and it would come better from you than anybody else; and you might say that I didn't run and hide when the Boches were coming. I think dad always believed I would do that. Will you?" Such was Geddes' request.

And all Herbert could do was to take their hands and press them, nod rather violently and perhaps get out a very few words like: "Oh, you'll be all right. See you later." Had he attempted more he would have quite broken down; and that, he believed, would not have been exactly the part of a soldier.

They were gone and the boy turned to his chief. "Lieutenant, there's only four of us left out of the nine; one dead, three wounded, one a traitor. This is war! But there's something more to be said; it is, how to get back at those devils down yonder? Of course, we're after them, too, but they had no business to start this war."

"I don't think those poor chaps did start it and I don't believe the most of them would have started it, either, if they'd had any say in the matter. They are mere puppets, even the higher commanders, working in a vile system that makes monkeys of them at the behest of their ambitious and conscienceless rulers, or the one ruler, Kaiser Bill. But as long as these fellows have made their bed as practical slaves, let them lie in it as victims, however the fortunes of war may swing, and we have to teach them a lesson about coming over here too readily; got to get back at them.

"To-morrow the communicating trench between our pit and the lower trench will be completed; that is a less distance across No Man's Land and some of us can join those boys down there in a counter-raid to-morrow night.

"And, Whitcomb, don't be too down-hearted; I see you are. Those fellows will mend up and we must expect some to be killed. We lost seven in all and eleven wounded. What is left of you can do very efficient work yet. The Huns are not done sniping and I will ask for some more men to refill your squad, along with two other squads of our command to take up the losses. And say, my boy, keep your eyes open for enemy airplanes; it'll be good flying weather in the morning and I've a notion they'll try again to do what the raid failed in. But Susan Nipper will wing 'em if she gets a show!"

It turned out precisely as the lieutenant predicted. The morning dawned clear and still, like an Indian summer day in the dear old United States and the men in the pit and those in the trenches below praised heaven for smiling upon them and Old Sol for drying up a bit of the bottom ooze where the trenches were poorly drained. The pit did not suffer so much, being on high and sloping ground where, even had the bottom been level and not drained, the rain water would have soon seeped away.

Herbert and Watson went out on the slope to watch for snipers in the early morning. But no snipers were in evidence and, strangely, they were not shot at even once; at that time this section could truthfully be called quiet. Not so?

Well, considering that one airplane engine makes as much noise and keeps it up longer than the shooting of a machine-gun, and that now no less than three airplanes made their appearance low down and came on at a tremendous rate, the quiet sector suddenly took on a different character. And then Susan Nipper commenced to talk out loud and to do things spitfire fashion.

At the very first shot, timing the shell fuse long or short, the foremost plane was hit precisely in the center; a long range wing shot with a single projectile at that. The German taube went to pieces and to earth as though it had been a dragon-fly smashed with a brick-bat, and there could hardly have been enough of the propeller and engine left to take up with a pitchfork. As for the poor driver and bomber, they passed into the other world without knowing a thing about it.

But this was no check to the other machines, for the quality of mind that makes or permits a man to go aloft at all makes of him no coward under any circumstances. On the two came, straight for the side of the hill, at such a furious speed that Corporal Letty had time only for one more shot at them. Hastily timed, this was a clean miss, the shell bursting high in the air beyond. And the gun squad was making a record to get in another shell as the machines, one a little above and behind the other, swept almost over the pit.

Two of the gun squad were working the Colt rapid-fire gun now, but they did not seem to swing it fast enough, all their stream of missiles being wasted.

Watson, farther down the slope than Whitcomb, now held to his shoulder a rifle that was hot with repeated action, and yet he, too, had scored no hits. Though an airplane, if not over three hundred feet in air and flying steadily ought to be scored on, its height makes it look mighty small and hard to hit, and moving objects are no cinches for a single bullet. As the disappointed fellow stopped to slip in still another cartridge clip he heard a yell from Herbert.

"Lookout, Watson! Dodge!"

Watson did dodge just in time. He saw a conical-shaped thing descending toward him and, a baseball player of skill with an eye for sky-scraper flies, he gauged correctly where that thing was going to hit and he got away from that place. And when the thing did hit and tore up the earth and gravel and stones Watson was glad he had dodged.

Another was flung down at him, but it went wide, and a third was started toward Herbert, who stood, spread-legged, gun to shoulder.

There is an art in aiming at a moving object that probably estimates its speed and direction, the speed of the bullet and allows for all of this. Herbert's skill with his little .22-caliber at objects tossed in air stood him in good stead when at rifle practice in the training camp and, however excited and eager with the necessity of shooting straight, it did not fail him now.

He fired twice in quick succession, meaning to hit exactly under the fish-like belly of the machines, directly below where he knew the driver sat and the first shot he believed he had missed. He felt pretty sure of the other; he even thought he saw the direct result of it in a glare of light, a shower of jumbled sparks and stars, and then, there was sudden blackness.

"What in thunder—how'd I get here?"[Pg 169]
[Pg 170] was the corporal's question of Lieutenant Jackson, who stood over his cot, smiling a little. But that was not an important matter just then; there were big comments being saved for Herbert's return of wits.

"Great Jupiter, my boy! By jingo! I never saw shooting like that! None of us ever did! The next minute they would have played havoc with things in here. Letty couldn't get at them and Watson couldn't and not one of my men, but you—oh, you could beat Doc. Carver! Wonderful!"

"Say, if you'd make it a little clearer to me I'd know what you're referring to," Herb protested. "Let's see; it was—oh, yes; I think I remember: taubes, weren't they? Where'd they get to?"

"They got to earth, you bet! Can't you recollect? You must have been worse stunned than I thought. You got 'em both, boy; got 'em both. Hit the first one so that it went down into the hill above and your second bullet started something going in the hind machine and it blew up and tossed those two fellows out and it turned turtle. She lies out there, looking more like a dump heap at home than anything else. You were hit by a fragment. You're a dandy!"

"You are that!" echoed Letty, from the opening. "I'll bet those Boches down there will study awhile before they send on any more fliers here! Feel better, Whitcomb?"

"Pretty much. Head aches. Any bones busted? Guess not. Sore in spots, though. Well, getting out in the air and sunshine would feel better. Want to see what happened," said Herbert, rising from his cot.

"Wonderful! Wonderful shooting!" repeated the lieutenant.

"Yes, and four Boches the less!" declared Letty.

"Is it true? Poor fellows!" said Herbert.

"Poor nothing! They'd have got my gun if you——"

"Hadn't murdered them, poor chaps!" put in Herbert. "This business of killing makes me sick. But I must get out; they'll be sending others to drop some more bombs."

"You're a queer chap," said Corporal Letty, and Lieutenant Jackson once more reiterated: "Wonderful shooting! Wonderful!"

But the Germans sent no more airplanes over on that day, nor many a day thereafter; they are brave, but rarely foolhardy. And as they appeared to have lapsed into inactivity for a time, probably seeking some surprises to spring, it seemed up to the Americans, true to their reputation for originality, to do some more surprising themselves.

The day wore on uneventfully. Watson and Herbert were replaced on the slope of No Man's Land by Gardner and Rankin, and the latter once so far forgot himself as to walk uprightly for about ten yards. Whereupon half a dozen whiz-bangs, or very light shells, from a small rapid-firer, came his way. Letty saw whence they came, trained Susan on that whiz-bang slinger and it went out of commission, along with three men working it. Rankin, meanwhile, had hunted cover.

Reinforcements arrived, as asked for. They were Regulars and more than anxious to get into the fighting, the actual work of getting into touch with the enemy. And, expert with revolvers, they were chosen for the night's work.

Herbert went to the lieutenant. "We fellows all want to get into this thing. We know something about work with pistols; perhaps we are as handy with them as with rifles. It's a cinch that we can do some good."

Lieutenant Jackson hesitated. "If we lose any more of you boys, and you in particular, Whitcomb, we won't be as sure of holding off attempts to get at Susan Nipper. But, nevertheless, this once, as it is to be an effort to demonstrate pistol work almost exclusively, I expect you fellows ought to be included. Sergeant West is to command; Corporal Gerry will lead. There will be about forty men and they will start from the lower communicating trench at about three o'clock to-night. Each man will carry two revolvers only, and six more rounds of ammunition and go as light as possible. There will be no barrage, as we want to surprise them. So be ready."