Dastral of the Flying Corps

"Just this, sir," replied the pilot. "Our plan to destroy the sheds is well forward, and we hoped to carry it out in three or four days. We know exactly where the place is–"

"Yes, yes, go on. The staff officer is waiting at the other end of the line," blurted out the C.O.

"Well, sir, if you will detail me to take my flight over there, so as to be on the spot at dawn, when the airships return, we may be able to strafe the lot. At any rate, we can destroy the sheds, and a Zeppelin would be useless without its cradle, and would soon come to grief."

"Good! Prepare your flight at once for the venture, and we must leave the other Squadrons and the R.N.A.S. and coast batteries to try and stop the raid."

"Yes, sir," replied the pilot, saluting smartly and departing on his errand.

So while the C.O. concluded his conversation with Headquarters over the 'phone, Dastral got to work at once with his flight.

While Snorty, the Aerodrome Sergeant-Major, and Yap, the rag-time "Corporal," and a squad of experienced air-mechanics prepared the machines for action, the Flight-Commander got together his pilots, Mac, Steve, and Brum, with their observers, and explained every detail of the proposed campaign. Distances were carefully worked out, a prearranged code of signals agreed upon, maps and charts examined and committed as far as possible to memory, and a score of necessary details worked up, so that there should be no confusion in the method of attack.

Having spent an hour thus discussing the matter and threshing out every aspect of the question that arose, Dastral said,

"Now then for a rendezvous, lads, for we must go singly, and come together smartly, at the precise moment, just as the dawn is breaking, which will be no easy matter."

"Let it be the Lion Mound on the battlefield at Waterloo," suggested Mac.

"Well, yes, that will do," said the Flight-Commander. "It is only about two miles away from the sheds, which are close by the village of Braine l'Alleud."

"Agreed," they all cried. "It will be a landmark we shall easily find."

"Then understand, all of you, that you must be there exactly as the dawn breaks, and, as soon as we pick each other up, we shall fall into regular flight formation, make a bee line for the sheds, and drop the squibs before the enemy can get to work with their Archies," said Dastral.

"And the cargo, Dastral? What shall we load up with?"

"Six twenty-pound bombs each, with ten drums of the new machine-gun ammunition. I think that will be all we can safely take without reducing speed."

"Right, sir!"

"And understand, boys," the leader went on. "There must be no fighting on the way there, even if attacked, unless it is absolutely necessary to prevent a crash. I quite expect we may have to fight an airship or two, and possibly a patrol of Fokkers or Aviatiks, for the Zeps are sure to be escorted on their way back, if they get wind of our little game."

"Agreed, sir."

"And now, gentlemen, to bed, all of you. It is imperative that you should each have a good night's rest, for if any man's nerves are run down in the morning, I shall put him off," said Dastral seriously, and they knew he meant it, for he could be serious at times, despite his laughing blue eyes, and his apparently gay and reckless manner.

So to bed they went, for they were all tired out, and not even the promise of the morrow's venture could keep them awake, for these daring airmen had learnt the happy knack of taking sleep whenever they could get it, as soon as duty was done, and of forgetting all about their machines as well as their own wonderful exploits.

Next morning, long before dawn, Corporal Yap, humming one of his rag-time songs, went round the bunks of the officers' mess and gently called the pilots and observers one by one. Within an hour they had breakfasted and were out on the aerodrome watching the machines being wheeled out, by the aid of the hand-lamps and electric torches.

After a brief but careful final examination of every strut and wire, the machines were quite ready, all loaded up, with the machine-guns shipped, compasses aboard, etc.

"All ready, sir!" reported Snorty, as he came up and saluted.

"Tumble aboard, lads!" called Dastral, and within two minutes the pilots and observers were in their seats, and the air mechanics standing ready to swing the propellors.

"Swish!" went the whirling blades.

"Stand clear!" came next in a shrill voice.

Then away into the darkness sped the four machines. In a few seconds they were lost to sight as they taxied across the aerodrome. Then one after another they leapt into the air, and began their upward climb, leaving their friends and well-wishers behind them, craning their necks to get a last view of them as they tried to locate them in the upper regions, by the hum of the gnome engines, and the loud whir-r-r-r of the propellors.

After rising rapidly to seven thousand feet the 'planes made off in the direction of the enemy's trenches, which they crossed at different points, for they had already separated in accordance with their plans. As they crossed the lines a dozen milk-white arms stretched up to reach them. These were the German searchlights, for the alarm had been raised and messages about.

"English aeroplanes crossing our lines!" had been flashed from the trenches to the Archies and the German searchlights.

"Boom-m! Boom-m!" went the anti-aircraft guns in a mad effort to find the raiders. But their efforts were futile, for the raiders looked down upon the little spurts of flame far beneath, and laughed as they quickly passed out of range.

The distance to be covered was nearly a hundred miles, before they arrived at the appointed rendezvous, but that did not trouble the daring aviators. Steering by compass, and watching the eastern sky right ahead for the first faint tinge of dawn, onwards they sped over Cambrai and the ruined fortress of Mauberge. Then they crossed into Belgian territory, that land of wretchedness and suffering, where a brave little people were enduring torment under the heel of the hated Prussian.

They were rapidly nearing the neighbourhood of the rendezvous when Jock called to Dastral, and shouted,

"Look, there comes Aurora, the Daughter of the Morn!"

The pilot looked in the direction indicated by his observer, and away to the eastward, over the far horizon, he saw the first grey streak which heralded the coming day.

He watched it as it grew and rapidly diffused itself over the sky. From grey it turned to a pale yellow, then as they still sped on, crimson flashes shot out over the firmament, as though the door of heaven had literally been unbarred, and the dark curtain of night had been rolled westward.

"Keep a good look-out for the other machines, Jock!" cried Dastral, for he had no time now to dwell in rhapsody over the beauty of the dawn. Danger was at hand, and he had a stern duty to fulfil.

The observer, however, did not need to be reminded; he was already peering through his glasses, searching the skies in the faint light for signs of the other 'planes.

"Can you make out any landmarks?" asked Dastral through the speaking tube, becoming not a little alarmed, and fearing that in the darkness they had overshot the mark and sailed past the rendezvous.

"Yes. Look, we are over a big city. I can see a dozen spires peeping up already through the gloom," replied the observer, after peering down towards the earth for another minute.

"Good!" ejaculated the pilot, bringing over the controls, and banking swiftly to come back on his course. "We must be over Brussels. We have come too far."

The next minute they were speeding away South-west towards the appointed rendezvous. Opening out the engine, they were soon going full pelt, before the enemy's guns could find them.

"Aircraft in sight to the northward," came next, for Jock had picked up a tiny speck away on their right.

And now for a moment there was intense excitement, for they knew not as yet whether the newcomer might prove to be an enemy, and they were anxious to avoid being entangled in a fight until their work was done.

"Can you pick up the Lion Mound yet?" asked Dastral. "It cannot be far away now."

"Yes, I have it now. A little further away to the right. Can you make it out?"

"Yes, I see it. We'll be there in a minute. Keep your eyes well skinned for the others. I think that must be Mac. away on our right, though he seems to be hanging back a bit; he evidently mistakes us for an enemy machine as we have come from the direction of Brussels. Can you make out his marks yet?"

"Not yet. It isn't light enough, and he's keeping too far away."

They were now right over the Lion Mound on the famous field of battle. The village of Waterloo was just behind them, standing almost exactly as it stood on that memorable day, Sunday, June 18, 1815. In the morning mist the old chateau of Hougumont lay sleepily ensconced in the hollow, while on the left the smoke was already rising up from the farmhouse of La Haye Saint.

"Another 'plane coming up on the south, making a bee line for us," shouted the observer.

"Splendid! That must be Steve," exclaimed Dastral, warming up a little as he saw that two of his three birds had reached the spot safely.