Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1930-05-11


y ~ it darby silhouetted pinwheel spun
down, like tumbling lark, a black
Speck in the sky. Infantrymen OF
the Yankee division, crawling through the wheat
toward a machine-gun nest in an evergreen
wood paused to watch the crash-h there was
to be crash
But they couldn't wait to see. A whistle sent
them plunging forward. A suffering Of ma
chine guns came from the woods Grenades
burst in black spouts. Tall figures daTted INTO
the shadow of the trees-and the death grapple
awaiting them there.
Ten minutes of silence were shattered by an
other burst of fire, deeper in the woods, which
ragged until the tall figures came stumbling out
into the open again. They ran space on
yards and flung themselves into the concealing
wheat. Some of them would lie there very
long time. Others awaited only that whistle to
send them dashing again at that wooded corner
which had been taken and retaken four times
since dawn.
And there was no crash The plane pulled
out of its spin into q dive, leveied on above
the trees and began to climb until the mist
brushed once more across its top wing. 1t was
a single-seater pursuit plane Of til American
Squadron which, with one other during that
July, had lost almost its entire original flying
personnel in an unequal battle. The swarming
Fokkers raided the lines, broke up observation,
dominated the air. The dark-eyed alert pilot
knew that 20 of them must be skimming above
for he was apparently the only one Of their
five-plane strafing patrol who had escaped.
LIE had stayed until the bitter end Twice
he had burned Fokkers from q comrades
tail while steel spattered into his instrument
board. He had been fighting when the clouds
engulfed him. So he survived, as from the
beginning. Not all Of it was luck. There were
other factors. There was a habit Of split
second decision, gift of air sight, and the
use of a scout planes wings as though they
were rooted in his own SPINE For valor and
also for safety he few always into the edge
of danger and four enemy fighting planes In
few weeks had gone limp in the white stream
of his tracers.
Sometimes he could forget all that that death
in the air, the reaction OF sickness which fol-
lowed even the exultation Of his own triumphs,
or the agony, dulled by its frequency, Of seeing
a friend plunge. He could forget it In the joy
of fight. soaring over a cloud range, diving
into the pit of its mile-deep canyons riding
down the sunset when patrol was done.
An expanse of forest brought to mind the
flights original mission. 1t had been Straffing
patrol, ordered to attack troops and particularly
an important machine-gun nest in the south
west corner Of the Loupeigne wood. He saw
it down below, known landmark Of the sector.
He saw the projecting corner where the ma
Chine-gun nest must be. A long spiral and a
They saw him. Long before his guns were
in action, machine-gun fire came up to meet
him and smoke rose out of the trees. A bit Of
tattered fabric fluttered at the trailing edge Of
his left wing. Then his fingers gripped the trig-
gers and his guns sent white spears into those
trees until his wheels all but brushed above
them. He zOomed, turned and dived again, and
again, and again, searching out every square
yard with his fire. He saw figures dashing out
Of the woods and f1inging themselves into
field of wheat for hiding.
Strange that they ran toward the allied line.
That fellow lying fiat with his arms out
straight-but who could tell anything about
helmets uniforms diving at 200 an hour? 1t
was an absurd idea anyway, and one too nor
Tible TO think of.
The squadron commander wanted him. $50
you lived through another one, eh?"
Ibid any of the others"
Thomas got back-with bullet through
his thigh and another through the neck. We've
lost the whole fight"
IAN but me, guess, captain"
"And you, too. You shot up those woods,
didn't you? Well you shot American infantry
out of those woods, my boy, and they want your
blood brigadier has been on the phone
about 1t already, crazy with rage, frantic to
make the pilot who did 1t pay for somebody's
official mistake. I guess you're done"
Eyes" The pilot who had done it stood
there pale and trembling. eyes, If that is true,
I'm done" He took corner of the embroidered
his tunic. Let them make kiwi out of me.
I'm not fit to fly"
TWO months after and some kilometers east
IL ward south of the Argonne there were IL
Of American pursuit squadrons in the fight.
It was that fair soft September at Belrain, and
cNyiff nd Cac nd lnnoc