The young pilot received the intelligence without emotion. He was getting accustomed to being turned out at unearthly hours, and the regularity1 of the proceedings2 made him stiff, especially when, in nine cases out of ten, the Hun failed to put in an appearance.
With very few exceptions, the German airmen now rarely flew over the British lines during the hours of daylight. If they did, they generally paid dearly for their temerity3, as frequently a whole squadron of chasers promptly4 pounced5 upon them. But at night there were opportunities, and the Boche was not slow in seizing them. Rising to an immense height above the aerodromes, they could glide6, unseen and unheard, for miles, until they imagined that they had avoided the British air-patrols.
Consequently alarms were frequent, but in the darkness the Boche often went wide of his objective, unless that objective happened to be a hospital, the roof of which was marked at night by an illuminated7 Red Cross—a Red Cross to a Hun being like a red rag to a bull.
"'Nother of 'em," he muttered. "Getting fed up with dud calls. Jack8, turn out, you lazy blighter!"
Kaye, who was fully9 dressed, with the exception of his boots, rolled heavily from his uncomfortable couch. In the dim light of a guttering10 candle he commenced to pull on his footgear, and took the opportunity to philosophize.
"Deuced queer how a fellow gets used to things in this jolly old war," he began. "Didn't know what it was to be wakened out of my beauty-sleep until some time in 1915. No wonder my thatch's getting a bit thin on top. And now, when a Boche is about dropping his rotten eggs, we grumble11 because it's a cold night and we have to turn out. Funny thing too: yesterday a Tommy came up and saluted12, and asked if I remembered him. Wiry sort of chap, as hard as nails, smothered13 in mud, an' just off back to a rest camp. He was the pater's gardener, a fellow well over forty, who didn't know one end of a gun from t'other back in '14. Now he's a sergeant14 and a D.C.M. man, while his young brother, a hefty lout15 who used to weed the parson's garden when he wasn't poaching, has managed to get exemption16 as an engineer. Lord! after the war, won't there be a gulf17 between men and slackers?"
"One will feel sorry for the slackers. They won't be able to hold their heads up," remarked Derek.
"Not they," corrected Kaye, giving his bootlace a vicious tug18. "They'll have whole skins and fat purses. The blighters who've done all the work and gone through all the danger will be back numbers when the war's over—if it's ever going to be over."
"I remember a school-chum of mine," continued Daventry, "Brown, by name; a fellow who hated sea-water like poison. Last I heard of him was that he was in command of an M.L.—they call M.L.'s Harry19 Tate's navy, I believe, but the men who run them are all O.K.—and he's been given the D.S.O. for some harum-scarum work off the Belgian coast. They are fond of putting square pegs20 into round holes in the services, but sometimes the edges of the pegs get worn down, and then they fit right enough. By Jove! That was a near one. Time we sought our little funk-hole."
A crash, followed by two others in quick succession, gave plenty of indication that Fritz was setting to work. Then the antis joined in the deafening21 roar, firing at a swiftly-moving object showing like a silvery gossamer22 in the rays of a searchlight.
It was less than fifty yards from the two chums' hut to the mouth of the dug-out, but during their deliberate and leisurely23 progress across the open ground Daventry and Kaye had an opportunity to observe some of the results of the raider's work.
A quarter of a mile away a fire was blazing fiercely. In that direction lay the hospital. Nearer, but in the opposite direction, was another but smaller blaze. A babel of excited voices could be heard between the crashes of the anti-air-craft guns and the explosion of the bombs.
"Chinks' quarters," remarked Kaye laconically24.
"Yes; it's the Chinese compound," agreed Derek. "Pity the Boche didn't make a mistake and drop an egg into the barbed-wire enclosures to the right. There are about four hundred Prussians there, men of the lowest type of Hun I've ever met. Hallo! what's Fritz doing?"
Both officers stopped and gazed aloft. The German biplane was diving rapidly right into the eye of the searchlight. It was a deliberate move. The Hun was descending25 under perfect control, with his engine running all out, straight for the searchlight projector26.
"Look alive, old man!" exclaimed Derek, gripping his chum by the arm and forcing him into the dug-out.
The two were only just in time, for as they descended27 the steps they could hear the rattle28 of a machine-gun and the splaying of hundreds of bullets upon the concrete.
Five minutes later the raid was over. The daring Hun had got away apparently29 untouched. Not only had he bombed the hospital, the Chinese compound, and part of the aerodrome, but by flying down the path of the searchlight and making good use of his machine-gun he had "wiped out" the entire crew of the searchlight itself.
While deprecating the wanton attack upon a Red Cross building in no mild terms, the R.A.F. men were not slow to praise the nerve and daring of the Boche, who, braving the Archibalds, had descended to within fifty feet of the ground in order to use his machine-gun with the deadliest results.
"Have a gasper?" asked Kaye, tendering a battered30 cigarette-case in which every dent31 had a story attached to it. "There's nothing like a cigarette when you've been turned out."
"Thanks, no," replied Derek. "Think I'll try a pipe before I turn in again. Wonder if there'll be any more stunts32? Hope not, as I'm on patrol to-morrow—or to-day, rather," he added, glancing at his wristlet-watch.
A minute or so later Derek knocked the ashes from his pipe, dived between the blankets, and was fast asleep, as if a hostile bombing-raid was merely one of the side-shows of life.
Just as the first streaks33 of dawn stole across the eastern sky the airmen were turned out by another alarm. Officers and men doubled on to the parade-ground to the accompaniment of a regular fusillade of bombs detonating at no great distance away.
"No. 1 Flight—in fours—right—double march!"
No. 1 Flight, detailed34 for special duty, promptly hurried off, while the remaining flights were ordered to stand at ease.
The nature of the commotion35 was soon obvious. The Chinks, as the Chinese labourers are termed, were seeking revenge for the deaths of several of their fellow-countrymen during the raid. With true Oriental cunning and stealth they had raided a store containing live Mills's bombs, and, armed with these sinister36 weapons, had surrounded the barbed-wire enclosure where the German prisoners were caged.
Before the handful of sentries37 realized what was taking place a terrific fusillade of bombs was directed upon the cage, and the strafing was still in progress when the airmen arrived upon the scene.
It did not take the new arrivals long to restore order. The Chinamen, expostulating and explaining in their quaint38 "pidgin" English, were relieved of the few bombs that had not been thrown across the barbed wire, and were marched back under escort to their compound.
"Bochee-man him dropee bomb on Englishman," declared an old coolie imperturbably39. "Englishman he dropee bomb on Bochee-man—can do. Bochee-man dropee bomb on Chinaman; him dropee bomb 'on Bochee-man—no can do."
The British overseer explained that the victims of the Chinese were prisoners of war and must be protected; to which the Chinamen replied that they, too, were in a compound enclosed by a wire fence.
"Hanged if I know how to answer that argument," explained the Englishman to a staff officer. "Evidently it's a case of reprisals40. I don't know what's to be done, but there'll be a fine old row over the business."
There was no more rest for Derek after that. Returning to his quarters, he found that his batman had made his bed and tidied his room with a precision that one would hardly expect to find within a few miles of the front. There was also a steaming hot cup of tea ready; and a batman who attends to his master's personal comfort under adverse41 conditions is a priceless treasure.
Derek sipped42 his tea gratefully, washed, shaved, and prepared for the coming day's work.
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1
regularity
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| n.规律性，规则性；匀称，整齐 | |
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proceedings
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| n.进程，过程，议程；诉讼(程序)；公报 | |
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temerity
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| n.鲁莽，冒失 | |
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promptly
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| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
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pounced
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| v.突然袭击( pounce的过去式和过去分词 )；猛扑；一眼看出；抓住机会（进行抨击） | |
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6
glide
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| n./v.溜，滑行；(时间)消逝 | |
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illuminated
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| adj.被照明的；受启迪的 | |
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8
jack
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| n.插座，千斤顶，男人；v.抬起，提醒，扛举；n.（Jake）杰克 | |
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9
fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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guttering
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| n.用于建排水系统的材料；沟状切除术；开沟 | |
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11
grumble
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| vi.抱怨；咕哝；n.抱怨，牢骚；咕哝，隆隆声 | |
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12
saluted
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| v.欢迎，致敬( salute的过去式和过去分词 )；赞扬，赞颂 | |
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13
smothered
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| （使）窒息， （使）透不过气( smother的过去式和过去分词 )； 覆盖； 忍住； 抑制 | |
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14
sergeant
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| n.警官，中士 | |
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lout
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| n.粗鄙的人；举止粗鲁的人 | |
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exemption
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| n.豁免，免税额，免除 | |
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gulf
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| n.海湾；深渊，鸿沟；分歧，隔阂 | |
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18
tug
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| v.用力拖(或拉)；苦干；n.拖；苦干；拖船 | |
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harry
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| vt.掠夺，蹂躏，使苦恼 | |
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pegs
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| n.衣夹( peg的名词复数 )；挂钉；系帐篷的桩；弦钮v.用夹子或钉子固定( peg的第三人称单数 )；使固定在某水平 | |
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21
deafening
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| adj. 振耳欲聋的, 极喧闹的 动词deafen的现在分词形式 | |
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gossamer
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| n.薄纱，游丝 | |
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23
leisurely
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| adj.悠闲的；从容的，慢慢的 | |
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laconically
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| adv.简短地，简洁地 | |
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descending
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| n. 下行 adj. 下降的 | |
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projector
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| n.投影机，放映机，幻灯机 | |
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descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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rattle
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| v.飞奔，碰响；激怒；n.碰撞声；拨浪鼓 | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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battered
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| adj.磨损的；v.连续猛击；磨损 | |
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31
dent
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| n.凹痕，凹坑；初步进展 | |
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32
stunts
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| n.惊人的表演( stunt的名词复数 )；（广告中）引人注目的花招；愚蠢行为；危险举动v.阻碍…发育[生长]，抑制，妨碍( stunt的第三人称单数 ) | |
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33
streaks
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| n.（与周围有所不同的）条纹( streak的名词复数 )；（通常指不好的）特征（倾向）；（不断经历成功或失败的）一段时期v.快速移动( streak的第三人称单数 )；使布满条纹 | |
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34
detailed
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| adj.详细的，详尽的，极注意细节的，完全的 | |
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commotion
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| n.骚动，动乱 | |
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sinister
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| adj.不吉利的，凶恶的，左边的 | |
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37
sentries
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| 哨兵，步兵( sentry的名词复数 ) | |
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38
quaint
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| adj.古雅的，离奇有趣的，奇怪的 | |
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imperturbably
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| adv.泰然地，镇静地，平静地 | |
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40
reprisals
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| n.报复（行为）( reprisal的名词复数 ) | |
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41
adverse
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| adj.不利的；有害的；敌对的，不友好的 | |
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42
sipped
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| v.小口喝，呷，抿( sip的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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