Dastral of the Flying Corps

"I hope not," replied Cowdie, feeling at the time somehow that it could be no one else.

"'B' Flight ought to have returned some time ago now. I'm very much afraid they've met their match this time. We could afford to lose half a dozen men rather than the Commander of 'B' Flight."

"Perhaps he's met Himmelman," urged the man on the carrier, steadying himself for the next heavy jolt, for the last one had nearly thrown him off, and the bad places were becoming more and more plentiful as they neared the lines.

"He will meet him some day, and there'll be a deuce of a fight. Just mark my words. There isn't room for two lords of the air, not in these parts, and one of them will go under."

"Well, I hope it will be the Boche."

"So it will be if they meet on equal terms, but the German air-fiend is a wily brute."

"Whiz-z-z! Bang-g-g!" came a shell at that moment, striking the ground not thirty yards away from them, and sending both men and motor-cycle spinning into the ditch by the very concussion.

"Not hurt, are you, Cowdie?" asked Brat, as he scrambled out of the ditch first, and ran to help his friend.

"No, but it was a very near thing that. Another few inches and that would have been the end of the regimental 'spare part.' Look here!" and Cowdie showed a rent in his tunic where a piece of shrapnel had torn away six inches of it behind the left shoulder.

Fortunately, though both were shaken, neither of the men had been actually hit It was a marvellous escape, however, one of those things one cannot account for. Though the machine had been badly knocked about and splintered, it had received no vital injury, and, after straightening out a few spokes, and cutting away a few more they mounted again and proceeded a little further.

"Halt Who goes there?" came the shout as they pattered up to the support trenches.

They halted and dismounted, and after telling their business were allowed to proceed, but they were cautioned that the road ahead was full of shell holes, and that they would not be able to ride much further. They would certainly be stopped at the reserve trenches.

Once more they started, their heads throbbing and aching with the noise of the terrific bombardment which was proceeding, for they were now in the super-danger zone, and shells were screaming overhead every few seconds, and many were bursting on their left and on their right.

Again they were halted, this time by a sentry near the second line trenches, and were absolutely refused permission to proceed further till they explained to the officer of the company commanding the trench what their errand was.

"Wires broken, did you say?"

"Yes, sir."

"Nearly all the wires to the front line trenches in this sector have been broken. We have had the engineers out all the morning mending them."

"There is news of one of our fighting 'planes having crashed somewhere over there, half an hour ago, sir," said Bratby, "and we have been ordered to proceed as near as possible to the place, to find out what has happened, as the aerodrome wire has been snapped."

"An aeroplane crashed, did you say?" asked the officer.

"Yes, sir."

"There have been half a dozen of them down in front of us since seven o'clock this morning; most of them German, I think."

"This was one of ours, sir."

"Yes, I saw it. There were two of them came down about the same time, but the other one fell by our support trenches and the pilot and observer were saved."

"And the other one, sir?"

"Oh, there is no hope for that one. She came down over there near our front line trench, and she was blazing when she crashed. We could not get at her, or at least we kept the men back who volunteered, as the Germans turned their machine guns on her directly she hit the ground and swept the spot for twenty minutes."

"The devils!" ejaculated Brat, looking more serious than he had ever looked in his life, while a strange light shone in Cowdie's eyes.

"We were told that we must get to the dug-out of Captain Grenfell, somewhere in the front line trench."

"Oh, very well; but you fellows go at your own risk. The Boches have been shelling the place like hell most of the time since daybreak."

"We're quite prepared to take the risk, sir!" replied Cowdie.

"Come this way, then, and mind that corner. We call it Hell-fire Corner these days, for we have lost more men there than at any other point," replied the officer.

A few minutes later he handed them over to a sergeant, with instructions to conduct them to the dug-out where Captain Grenfell and his two operators still held on to the end of the broken wires. No messages had come through for some time, but several squads of Royal Engineers were busy crawling out in the open and trying to find the loose ends in order to restore communication.

When they arrived there Captain Grenfell gave them the full text of the message which he had tried to get through, and pointed out to them the place where the ruins of the aeroplane lay, for they were still smoking.

"But the pilot, sir, where is he? And where is the observer? They were the best men in the Squadron, and their loss will be felt greatly, for Lieutenant Dastral was reckoned the best pilot in France, and great things were expected from him in the near future," said Brat.

For answer the Captain shrugged his shoulders and made a gesture which seemed to indicate that he feared the case was hopeless.

"Their bodies must be somewhere over there. Several of our men volunteered to go over to rescue them, but every man who went over the top went to his death, until the O.C. refused permission for any more to attempt it, for he said he could not spare the men."

While they were thus discussing the matter, one of the sentries a little further down the trench gave an alarm:

"Cloud of gas or fog coming over, sir, from the German lines!"

Brat and Cowdie, at these words, peeped over the edge of the parapet, and saw, about a quarter of a mile away, a dense yellowish vapour coming slowly onward from a point where the enemy's lines curved round and faced the British lines from almost due south-east. The order was passed quickly down the lines for the men to don their gas-helmets, but the C.O. coming along the trench shortly afterwards, remarked that it could not possibly be gas, for, from the direction whence it came, it would pass onwards over a portion of the enemy's lines at a spot where the trenches curved back again and made a salient. At this point the lines twisted and bent themselves into many curious salients, for the last advance had not thoroughly straightened out the position.

"The Germans are not such fools as to gas their own men, Grenfell, what do you say?" remarked the officer commanding the trench to Grenfell, who had come out of his dug-out to get a view of the cloud.

"No, sir. There must be some other reason."

"Yes, and the reason is, I think, a change of wind which is bringing on a dense fog."

"You are quite right, sir," added the other, after regarding the air and sky for some ten seconds. "There has been a sudden change of wind, and a dense local fog is coming up from the valley. The whole landscape will be blotted out in a few minutes."

"You're right, Grenfell," replied the officer. Then, turning to his orderly-sergeant, he called out:

"Pass the order for the men to stand-to! There is no telling but that the Boches may come over the top with the fog, and try to surprise us."

"Yes, sir," came the reply smartly, and the sergeant, saluting, disappeared along the trench, calling out the men from the dug-outs, and ordering a general "stand-to."

The chance was too good to be lost. Cowdie gave Brat a dig in the ribs, and whispered to him,

"Now is the time. See, the fog thickens, and it is nearly up to the wrecked aeroplane. Let's go over, or the Boches will be there first. They're sure to try it on. What say you?"

"I'm with you, old man, but it will be an awful job. Have you got your revolver loaded, for we've got nothing else?"

"Yes," replied his chum, feeling that his weapon was safe in the leather case, which hung at his left side.

"Come on, then; we haven't a second to lose."