The Republican. [volume] (Oakland, Md.) 1877-current, 1916-06-15

chine gun and the minimum require
ment In fuel. Instead of rising grad
ually like their predecessors, they
bound upward with an ascensional
power heretofore unattained. They
are so dangerous in a fight that the
pilot has to go into the adversary's
territory to hunt an engagement. That
was what the Americans, especially
chosen for these machines, were to do.
There were nine of these, together
with nineteen of the big bombarding
biplanes. in sight together for an in
slant; then the head of the line dis
appeared in the clouds. The hunters, !"
as the speedy machines are called,
overhauled the last of the bigger fiiers
and went out of sight ahead of them,
while Thaw's Iris" and Captain IT'S
Fran, the two pet dogs of the camp,
were still barking after them.
Even soldiers habituated to this spec
tacle for nearly two years never tire of
it. They watch the last machine until
it is out of sight, then turn back with
out comment to the sheds to await the
return. The silence and solemnity of
the camp after the hustle of the depart
ure was depressing. The 70 soldiers of
the camp knew that some of those
brave boys might be missing when the
roll was called again.
Time passes with marvellous rapidity
on fighting expeditions, aviators say,
but the two hours maximum wait IN
camp to see if they all get back, is al
ways long. Watches are out after
ninety minutes and eyes are turned in
the direction taken by the fliers. At
the ninety-ninth minute, perhaps, a
speck appears high above the horizon.
There they come" is the word that
passes around the camp and everyone
is on the field. Its a chosen" says
one. Number two is a bom-barder, "
says another. In a few minutes twenty
seven specks are counted; then there is
another wait and voices are hushed.
A hunter" circles around the camp,
dives downward at dizzy pace, skins
along the field without slowing up, until
breaking against the wind it comes to
a thrilling stop.
The faster machines, last away, are
first back, fuel supply with them is
sometimes a close fit and not a second
is to be lost. Seven chasers land at the
same breakneck pace, and with the same
precision.
The eighth seems to flutter as it
approaches, tips and dives fitfully.
Field glasses are leyelled at him. He's
had his tail piece carried away" cries
one. Its Thaw," says!another, and
there's something wrong with his
propeller" Alternately rearing, div
ing, and sliding on its wing, the ma
chine comes down convulsively like a
wounded bird.
He's going to break bit of wood.'
exclaimed French soldier, expressing
in characteristic aviation language the
pIOSpCNl VI SlldSu. lHG iIldCLlilG
rears again, after dive which took it
dangerously close to earth; Yeers around
abruptly against the wind, bumps along
the ground hundred yards and stops.
''Thaw's one of the few pilots who
could bring home a busted machine like
that, said soldier.
But where's Chapman" All the
big biplanes are now IN and pilots and
soldiers are all searching the sky
anXiously. Then a cry comes from the
field. A speck has just emerged from
the clouds. Chapman. driven out of his
course by the Smelling in which Thaw's
propeller was damaged, had finally
found his way, and lands now with the
last drop of gasoline in his reservoir.
The disgusting thing about it." said
Thaw, while the mechanics were taking
an inventory of the damage, was that
the fellow over there across the line
wouldn't come out to fight.