The French had been massing their troops by forest paths, from Verdun and Toul, to throw them against the Germans in desperate endeavors to break the lines which protected the sites for the German heavy siege artillery and the Austrian automobile batteries of twelve-inch siege guns. To join in this movement the command of Colonel Bainbridge was preparing.
For days the French aviators had repeatedly scrutinized every acre of land looking for a concealed battery of growlers, snugly hidden in a wood on the rolling heights of the Cote Lorraine. These aviators had failed to mark a find.
The conference that the boys had witnessed at headquarters, when summoned by Colonel Bainbridge, had to do with this battery problem. They had then heard mention of the doings and failure[128] of the flying corps, but further had not been taken into the confidence of the officers.
When the sergeant directed them to get their bundles, Billy and Henri began to hope that they might run into an opportunity to once again get near a flying-machine, if not into one.
“I’d like to get above ground once more, for sure I’ve had enough underground work lately to last me a lifetime.”
The desire of Billy to do some lofty sailing was twin with the wish that haunted Henri.
“Let’s volunteer to scout for that battery,” urged the latter, aroused by his chum’s suggestion.
“No use,” was Billy’s discouraging reply. “The colonel won’t stand for it.”
“But, maybe he would, after all,” reasoned Henri, “if we put it up to him the right way. His own son was in that branch of the service.”
“If you can convince the colonel, well and good.”
Billy appeared to think that there was a conspiracy afloat to keep him tied fast to the ground.
“I’m going to make the try,” said Henri, “as soon as we join the other force.”
He did make the try next day, and finally persuaded the colonel that under the constant battery fire Billy and himself would be at least as safe in the air as on the march.
“Just think, colonel, what a chance for us to do something worth while, and do it the only way we[129] can. As soldiers we don’t count. As aviators we’re the lucky number.”
When the French commander heard that one of our Aviator Boys had an idea that his eyes were better than those of the military flyers, he amusedly assented to the proposition, but only because of the fact that there was a shortage just then in the aviation corps—two of them only the day before having sailed in the way of a shell from one of the big mortars of the enemy.
“It’s our job!”
This was the joyful announcement of Henri to his flying partner.
The next argument was with the sergeant, but he, too, was compelled to throw up his hands in surrender.
The French aviator who directed the corps told Henri that their detail was for “artillery reconnaissance.”
When Henri translated the name of their job to Billy, the latter sa............