The Guns of Europe

"My new friend is an American," said Lannes, "and he's to be trusted, since his own life as well as ours is at stake. Monsieur John Scott, Messieurs Gaston Castelneau and August Méry. John, these are two skillful and valued members of the French flying corps. I want you to shake hands with brave men."

John gladly shook their gloved hands.

"Castelneau, and you, Méry, listen," said Lannes, and again his voice took on that dramatic ring, while his figure seemed to swell in both size and stature. "It is here! It has come, and the whole world will shake beneath its tread!"

"The war!" they exclaimed with one voice.

"Aye the war! The great war! the world war! The planet-shaking war! Germany declared war today on Russia and tomorrow she declares war on France! Never mind how I know! I know, and that's enough! The strength and weight of a Germany that has devoted its best mind and energy for nearly half a century to preparation for war will be hurled at once upon our poor France! We are to be the first and chief victim!"

"It will not be so!" said Castelneau and Méry together.

"No, I think not. Republican France of 1914 is not Imperial France of 1870. There I think Imperial Germany has made her great mistake. And we have friends, as Imperial France had not! But every son of France must be prepared to shed his blood in her defense!"

Castelneau and Méry bowed gravely. John could tell little about them, except they were short, thick men, apparently very strong. They wore caps, resembling those of a naval officer, heavy, powerful glasses, and baggy clothing, thick and warm. John saw that they paid Lannes great deference, and he remembered the words of Castelneau that the young Frenchman was the greatest airman in France. And he had a vague impression, too, that France led in flying.

"Can France win against Germany, my lieutenant?" asked Méry, who had not spoken hitherto. "The Germans outnumber us now in the proportion of seven to four, and from a time long before we were born they've thought war, dreamed war, and planned war."

"We'll not have to fight Germany, single handed, my good Méry," replied Lannes. "We'll have friends, good friends, powerful friends. And, now, I suppose that you have extra clothing with you?"

"Enough for two, sir. Your friend goes with you?"

"He does unless he wishes to remain here and be shot as a spy by the Germans."

Lannes did not glance at John as he spoke, but it was a calculated remark, and it met with an instant response.

"I'll go with you in the machine," he said.

And yet it took great courage to make the resolve. The three Frenchmen were practised aviators. They traveled in the air as John would have traveled on the water. He had never been in a flying machine in his life, and his mind did not turn to mechanics.

"We must not waste time in delay," said Lannes. "Mr. Scott and I will go in the first machine, and we will start straight for France. John, I promised to take you to Munich, but I can't do it now. I'll carry you to France. Then you may cross over to Switzerland, and communicate with your people in Munich. It's the best that can be done."

"I know," said John, "and I appreciate the effort you're making for me. Nor would I be in your way at a time when you may be able to do so much for your country."

"Then we go at once. Castelneau, we take the Arrow."

He pointed to the smaller of the machines.

"Yes, my lieutenant," said Castelneau, "it is the better for a long flight."

"I thought so. Now, Castelneau, you and Méry return to the hidden station in the mountains, while Mr. Scott and I take flight for France. John, here are your clothes."

John hastily put on the heavy garments, which seemed to him to be made of some kind of oilskin, thrust his hands into heavy gloves, and put on the protecting glasses. But as he did it his pulses were beating hard. The earth on which he now stood looked very good and very solid, and the moonlit ether above him was nothing but air, thin, impalpable air, through which his body would cleave, if he fell, with lightning speed. For a moment or two he was afraid, horribly afraid, but he resolutely put the feeling down.

Lannes was also clothed anew, looking like a great baggy animal, but he was rapid and skillful. John saw at once that the praise of Castelneau was justified.

"Here is your seat, John," said Lannes, "and mine is here. All you'll have to do is to sit still, watch the road and enjoy the scenery. We'll give her a shove, and then you jump in."

There was some room on the grass for the preliminary maneuver, and the four shoved the machine forward and upward. Then Philip and John, quickly releasing their grasp, sprang into their seats.

Lannes' eyes behind the heavy glasses were flashing, and the blood was flying through his veins. The daring strain, the utter defiance of death which appears so often in French blood was up and leaping. He was like a medieval knight, riding to a tournament, confident of victory, only Philip Lannes was not any conqueror of narrow lists, the vast space in which the whole universe swings was his field of triumph. His hand sought the steering rudder, and the machine, under the impulse of the strong push it had received, rose into the air.

John's sensation as he left the earth for the very first time in his life was akin to seasickness. The machine seemed to him to be dipping and gliding, and the throbbing of the motor was like the hum of a ship's machinery in his ear. For a few moments he would have given anything he had to be back on that glorious solid earth. But again he put down the feeling of fear.

He turned his head for a last look at Castelneau and Méry, and, to his amazement, he could barely make them out standing by the other machine, which looked like some great, vague bird poised on the grass. Directly below him he saw the tops of trees, and at that moment they looked to his excited fancy like rows of glittering spear points, poised to receive him.

"Look up! Look up!" said the sharp voice of Lannes in his ear. "It's always the fault of beginners to look down and see what they've left."

His tone was more than sharp, it was peremptory, commanding. John glanced at him and saw his steady hand on the rudder, and his figure loose and swinging easily like that of a sailor poised on a rolling deck. He knew that Lannes' manner was for his own good, and now he looked straight up at those heavens, into which they were ascending.

The motor throbbed, and John knew that the machine was ascending, rising, but not at a sharp angle. The dizzy feeling began to depart, and he longed to look down again, but did not do so. Instead he kept his eyes upward, his gaze fixed on the dusky blue heavens, which now looked so wide and chill. He knew that the little distance they had come from the earth was nothing to the infinity of the void, but by some mental change the stars seemed to have come much nearer, and to have grown hugely in size. There they danced in space, vast and cold.

The machine dipped a little and rose again. John dared another glance at Lannes, who was swaying easily in his seat, feeling all the exaltation of a confident rider who has a swift horse beneath him.

"I'm better now," said John above the purring of the motor.

Lannes laughed deep down in his throat, and with unction.

"Getting your air-legs, so to speak," he said. "You're learning fast. But don't look down at the ground, at least not yet. By and by you'll feel the thrill, which to me is like nothing else on earth – or rather above it. You've noticed, haven't you, that it's growing colder?"

"Not yet. I suppose the excitement has made my blood flow faster than usual, and that keeps me warm."

"It won't much longer. We're up pretty high now, and we're flying fast toward that beautiful country of mine. Can't you feel the wind rushing like a hurricane past your ears?"

"Yes, I do, and in the last minute or two it's acquired an edge of ice."

"And that edge will soon grow sharper. We're going higher."

John felt the upward swoop of the plane. The sensation that a ship gives a passenger when it dips after a swell returned, but it quickly passed. With it went all fear, and instead came a sort of unreasoning exhilaration, born of a strange new tincture in his blood. His ears were pounding and his heart had a more rapid beat. He hoped that Lannes would go yet higher. Yes, his comrade was right. He did feel the wind rushing past, and heard it, too. It was a pleasant sound, telling of trackless miles through the ether, falling fast behind them.

Those moments were filled for him with a new kind of exaltation. Despite the cold heights the blood still flowed, warm, in his veins. The intangible sky was coming nearer and its dusky blue of the night was deepening. The great, friendly stars looked down, meeting his upturned gaze, and still danced before him.

Now, he dared to stare down for the second time, and his heart took a great leap. Far beneath him, somber and dark, rolled the planet on which he had once lived. He had left war and the hate of nations behind. Here was peace, the steady throb of the motor in his ear was soothing music.

"I see that you've got your air-balance, John," said Philip, "you learn fast. I think that Castelneau and Méry would approve of you. Since you've learned to look down now with steady eyes take these glasses."

He handed him a pair of powerful glasses that he took from under the seat, and John, putting them to his eyes turned them downward. It gave him a strange tingling sensation that he from some unknown point in space should look at the earth as a distant and foreign planet.

But the effect of the glasses was wonderful. The earth sprang forth in the moonlight. He saw forests, fields, villages, and the silver ribbon of a river. But all were racing by, and that, even more than the wind rushing past, gave him an idea of the speed at which they were going. He took a long, long look and then returned the glasses.

"It's tremendous," he said. "I confess that at first I felt both fear and physical ill. But I am getting over it, and I feel instead the thrill of swift motion."

"It's because we have a perfect piece of track."

"There's no track in the air!"

"Oh, yes, there is. If you'd thought a moment you'd have known it, though I'll admit it's a shifting one. When you stand on the ground and turn your eyes upward all the sky looks alike. But it's far from it. It's full of all kinds of winds, currents and strata, pockets, of which all aviators stand in deadly fear, mists, vapors, clouds of every degree of thickness and complexion, and then you have thunder and lightning, just as you do on land and sea. It's these shifting elements that make the navigation of the air so dangerous, John. The whole question would be solved, if there was nothing but stationary air, growing thinner in exact proportion as we rise. But such a condition of aerial peace could not be reached unless we could go up fifty miles, where there is no air, and that we'll never be able to do."

"How high are we now?"