versation with the two army men and an endless long distance talk with the War Department at Washington. Then there was a rush trip to Washington by Tesla and Sparks, conferences at the War Department, and finally a few days later Sparks went to the White House and was presented to the President, who was highly enthusiastic about the model which Sparks and Tesla demonstrated to the head of the Nation. Still later there were certain rush orders from the War Department to the General Electric and Westinghouse Companies for many big, queer machines, and these same machines were shortly . . . But here the Censor bids us an emphatic "Halt." One may not even now divulge certain military information. You appreciate that.
Behind the German Lines
BARON von Unterrichter's flying "Circus" was getting ready to bomb a certain American depot behind the lines. The Americans of late had shot down entirely too many of the Baron's flyers. Only yesterday von der Halberstadt—a German ace himself—and one of von Unterrichter's closest friends had been downed, and killed inside of the German lines. So the Baron was out for blood this sunny morning. As he put it:
"Verdammte Yankee Schweinehunde,[1] we will show them who is master of the air hereabouts," shaking his fist at the American lines beyond.
"Sie Müller," this to an orderly.
"Zu Befehl, Herr Leutnant," replied the young orderly as he came on the run and stood at attention, clicking his heels together, hand at his cap.
"Versammlung, sofort," barked the chief, as he hastened Müller off to summon post haste every man of the aerial squadron for the usual conference before the attack.
In less than ten minutes the thirty flyers were standing drawn up at military attention before their chief, forming a half circle about him. Von Unterrichter's instructions were simple enough. This was a reprisal raid; von der Halberstadt's death must be avenged, fearfully avenged. No quarter was to be given.
"Dieses Amerikanische Gesindel!"—here his voice rose to a shrill pitch, "must be taught to respect us, as never before. The orders are to bomb every American base hospital within the sector . . . ."
At this several of the men recoiled involuntarily, which did not escape the keen eye of von Unterrichter, who now incensed to blind fury, by this show of "softheartedness," as he put it, exhorted his men in his harshest possible terms. "And as for their flyers, you must not give quarter. You must not be satisfied with disabling their machines. Kill them! Schiesst die Lumpen zusammen! Pump nickel into them, if you see that they may land unharmed" this in direct violation of all flying etiquette—a thing abhorred by any decent flyer as a rule. It is bad enough to have your machine shot down, but "sitting on a disabled enemy's tail," and pouring machine gun fire into a helpless man, struggling in mid-air,—what was German prestige coming to with such methods. Plainly the men did not like such liberties with their honor, but orders were orders. They grumbled audibly and cast not very encouraging looks at their chief. Even his parting shout: "Vorwärts—für Gott und Vaterland," failed to bring the usual cheers.
The German Aerial "Circus"
PROMPTLY on the minute of 10 the fifteen flyers of the "Circus" rose, like a flock of big white sea gulls heading in "V" formation towards the American lines. Von Unterrichter was leading his herd in a big Fokker. He was out for blood and he meant to have it. His face was set, his jaws clenched like a vice. Hate was written in large characters over his face. . . . Why didn't these Dollarjäger stay home and mind their own business chasing their dollars? What right did they have in this fray, anyway. "Elendige Schweinebande," he spoke out loud, to better vent his overpowering hate.
But where were the Yankee Flieger today? The Baron's "Circus" was up one thousand meters and less than a mile away from the American first line trenches, but still no machine in sight, either American or French. Strange. Quite an unheard of occurrence. Afraid? "Unsinn," he muttered to himself, they were not the sort to be afraid. Von. Unterrichter knew that. For the first time he felt a vague sort of uneasiness creeping over him. He could not understand. There was not a Flieger anywhere in sight. None on the ground either, as he scanned the vast saucer below him through his Zeiss. Was it a new trick, was . . .
Before he finished his train of thought, his engine stopped dead. Cursing volubly he made ready to "bank" his machine in order to volplane down behind his own lines. He congratulated himself that his engines had not stopped later while over the enemy's lines, but his pleasure was short-lived. For he suddenly became aware of the fact that there was a supreme quiet reigning all about him. Why did he not hear the loud roar of the other fourteen engines, now that his own engine was quiet? Looking around he perceived with horror that every one of the fourteen machines of the "Circus" had simultaneously "gone dead" and all of them were now volplaning earthward.
The "Circus" Descends Disabled
SICK with an unknown terror, von Unterrichter made a clumsy landing in the midst of his other flyers, all of them pale, some shaking, some with a strange animal expression in their eyes. What unknown, invisible hand had with one stroke disabled the fifteen engines, one thousand meters above the ground?
"Himmelkreuzdonnerwetter," shrieked von Unterrichter jumping to the ground, near his airdrome. "I . . . I . . . cannot" . . . here his voice broke. For the first time in his life the young Prussian was speechless. He then stamped his foot in a frenzied fury, but finally gave vent to a full round of cursing. At last he collected his senses sufficiently to look for the cause of the mysterious occurrence. It only took five minutes to find it. His mechanician pointed to the magneto.
"Kaput," he said laconically, if not grammatically.
"Auseinander nehmen," commanded the chief.
It took the deft mechanician but a minute to take
- ↑ For translation of foreign terms see end of this story.
