Dastral of the Flying Corps

"Grenfell, ask Flight-Commander Dastral to come down at once."

"Yes, sir."

And on his next journey, Brat fetched Dastral down from his bunk at the mess to join the party.

"Dastral," was the first word from the C.O. as soon as the daring young pilot entered.

"Yes, sir," replied the Flight-Commander, saluting smartly.

"Here's something for you after your own heart."

"What is that, sir?" asked the youth, smiling.

"The promised raid on Krupps'. How would you like to undertake it with your flight? You have often spoken about it."

"Nothing would please me better, sir."

"And the other fellows belonging to your flight, what about them?"

"They would follow me anywhere, sir!"

"Gad, I believe they would, for they all worship you. I believe they'd follow you to 'Gulfs,' if you led them there."

Dastral laughed, and repeated his avowal, that he would be only too pleased to start at dawn should the weather conditions prove good enough.

"Right!" exclaimed the major. "Then, you'd better spend the next two hours with Captain Scott here, and with your men. Get thoroughly hold of these plans, and fix them in your mind."

So, while breakfast was laid for the Intelligence officer, Dastral got his men together, including Mac and Jock. Afterwards the eight men who were going into action carefully laid their plans, arranging a code of signals and the method of attack, should they succeed in reaching their destination. Then they went over to the sheds, examined and tested the machines, saw them loaded up with bombs and drums of ammunition. The guns, compasses, etc., were then shipped and everything was ready.

Dastral looked at his watch. In an hour it would be dawn.

"We must be off, boys. We must cros the German lines before daybreak."

"Right, sir," replied the others, "We can be ready in ten minutes."

Then, having previously breakfasted, they put on their thick leather coats, pilots' boots and helmets, and made ready. The C.O. came down to wish them godspeed and a safe return. The probable time of their return was fixed, and it was arranged that an escort should meet them on their way back to defend them from hostile aircraft, lest any of them should be in difficulties, and unable, through damaged machines or lack of ammunition, to fight their way home.

"Stand by! Contact, switch off!" came the order.

The propellors were swung vigorously once or twice, then, one after another, the engines broke into their mighty song, and the machines taxied off into the darkness across the aerodrome, and as the joy-stick was pulled over each 'plane sprang into the air, and began its long voyage.

"Good-bye, and good luck!" shouted the C.O. as each man taxied off, and as a parting salute, each pilot raised his gloved hand from the controls for an instant.

Four hundred miles, that was the distance of the double journey. Two hundred miles of enemy territory to be traversed before they reached their objective; then, another two hundred back again to safety; and no chance of a landing to remedy even the slightest defect. That was the prospect before these daring aviators, as they sallied forth on their dangerous errand this morning about half an hour before the first faint whisper of dawn came up out of the east.

No wonder the Commanding Officer of the Squadron, as he watched them depart, turned to his companions and said:

"A perilous venture, isn't it, for the boys?"

"You're right, sir," replied the orderly officer. "I hope not one of them will lose the number of his mess before nightfall."

"Ah, well. We have had some vacant chairs in the mess lately. Four hundred miles," he was heard to remark as he turned on his heels and went back to his room.

He was a kindly, considerate commander, for he had that rare quality which combined firmness with kindness, and because of that he was loved by all his men.

The adventurers crossed the German lines at seven thousand feet, and in the darkness the enemy's searchlights failed to find them, so they were well away for once. There was just a little doubt in Dastral's mind about the weather conditions when he started, as the success of the venture depended very much upon the visibility. At present, however, the dull cloudy weather was in their favour, if only it might clear up later.

He was therefore very pleased when, having left the enemy's lines some thirty or forty miles behind, the first tinge of dawn lit up the sky in front of them, showing the horizon clearly. The wind had changed during the last hour, and, though it grew colder, it became much brighter.

Once or twice the Flight-Commander looked round at his followers, casting a critical eye upon the whole flight.

"Thank goodness, the engines seem to be running well. Everything depends on them," he murmured.

His own machine was a double-seater type with the observer's car projecting right in front of the engine, a powerful twelve-cylindered R.A.F.

A little later Jock, speaking through the tube, shouted:

"Shots on the left, Dastral!" and he pointed to a spot far down below, for the landscape had opened out now, and they had been spotted for the first time.

Dastral looked down, and saw several rapid flashes, away down on the left, where a battery of "Archies," having found them, had opened fire.

In front of the machine which was leading the flight, Dastral saw several black bursts of smoke, and in the centre of each burst was a yellow glare.

"Ah, the Boches have found the range to a nicety!" yelled Dastral to Jock. "Look out! We must dive."

Then, pulling over the controls, the hornet dipped at the head, doing a neat little nose-dive of some five hundred feet, throwing the enemy's range out of gear, and compelling him to readjust his sights.

As he dived, the others, with an eye always on their leader, followed him, and the whole flight dived clean underneath a mass of curtain fire, intended to bar their progress. So cleverly was it all done that they all escaped without a scratch.

The Commander looked down at those batteries still spitting fire. With not a little contempt he regarded them. They could not touch him, for already, before they could readjust their fire, the whole flight was out of range, for the engines were now doing well, and a speed of a hundred and twenty miles an hour had been worked up.

At another time Dastral would like to have dived down to within five hundred feet of those German guns, and put them out of action, but he had other work on hand today; work which would take all his time and skill to complete satisfactorily, and to bring his men back to safety. Even if Himmelman himself should attack him now, he must refuse him battle, unless compelled to fight for mere safety. His present duty was to bomb the great arsenal at Krupps', and, as far as possible, leave the principal buildings nothing but a heap of smoking ruins. So he opened out the throttle of his engine to the full, and for the first time reached one hundred and twenty-five miles an hour, not a very bad speed when you are loaded up with heavy missiles.

They had been flying for an hour now, and had climbed higher and higher until they were at nine thousand feet. It was bitterly cold, and already their feet and hands were numbed. What would they be like in another two hours?

An hour and a half passed, and shortly afterwards Jock shouted:

"The Rhine! The Rhine!"

Nor indeed was he mistaken. He had been eagerly searching for the famous stream that runs through the German Fatherland, and of which the Hun is so proud. And now, there it was, a little way ahead of them, running through the landscape like a silver thread.

Soon they were over the stately river, and Dastral, knowing that the road was as plain as a pikestaff now if the weather kept clear, no longer heeded his compass, but, wheeling smartly to his left, followed the stream on its way to the sea.

"What town is that?" shouted the pilot, as a vast assembly of houses and spires came into view.

"Coblentz," replied the observer, with his finger on the waterproof map.

"Better look out for trouble, hadn't we?"