10 Short Novels Magazine — page 95: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

ever heard of, the great Boche flyer had been caught at a disadvantage. Sexton’s heart leaped at the idea. He al- ready had four victories to his credit— not a bad record for the short time he’d been flying at the Front—but to get Ger- hardt would be an accolade beyond all price. It would be realization of the fond dream of every Yankee chasse pilot in the sector. And it would make him an ace! His Nieuport was humming with in- creased speed. Looking back, he saw Dorn sticking close to his tail. He nodded with satisfaction. Dorn-was a vain young flyer, likely to be undependable in pinches because of his erratic habits of mind. He had no Boche scalps at his belt, as yet, no victories to boast of to the mam’- selles who admired his handsome face, and this fact was a rankling source of grief to him. If only he didn’t. go hay- wire now! Sexton would need him to back up his attack; perhaps it would be Dorn’s fate to get Gerhardt as the German tried to avoid Sexton’s dive. But Dorn must be there, in his proper place, to make deadly sure that the German ace should not escape. That was what mattered to Sexton. The fleck of scarlet upon which Sex- ton’s attention was riveted flashed brighter in the dying sunlight—and he was sure. He could not mistake the shape of those wings as the plane banked. It was Gerhardt’s Red-Wing. Waving to Dorn to follow, Sexton rud- dered a course which, while slowly losing altitude, would put him in a position for a quick drive on Gerhardt’s tail. His heart was hammering at his chest wall like a trip-hammer, but his hand was steady on the stick, and his eye never left his quarry. Gerhardt cruised slowly along, appar- ently quite off his guard, all unconscious of the eager death that swooped above im. But if the German ace had forgotten caution for once in his wary life, the Ger- man anti-craft gunners on the ground were more alert. They saw his danger, and they did their best to warn him. Sexton’s Nieuport jerked suddenly at the air-cushioned impact of a close burst, and the hoarse cough of other bursting shells followed in quick succession, The battery was firing rapidly, more anxious _ to warn Gerhardt than to hit the Yank planes. The sky was full of drifting balls of black smoke, and others were constantly arriving, born of the pale, deadly flame of high-explosive at their hearts. Sexton, like many pilots, had acquired an utter disregard for the futile menace of Archie fire. Not so, he knew, with Dorn. Shell-fire was the one thing Dorn could not stand. His high-strung nerves went all to pieces when he was subjected to it. So Sexton looked anxiously back over his shoulder—and swore aloud as he saw Dorn zooming up and away. By this time, of course, Gerhardt had come out of his dream and had spotted the American planes. But seeing only two enemies, and they far apart; the Boche decided, with the magnificent audacity which was his most pronounced charac- teristic, to attack. Up he came, gallantly enough, while the disgusted Sexton, cheated of his surprise by the alert artil- lery and by his panicky partner of su- periority in numbers, swung away to meet maneuver with maneuver. He was hoping now for nothing better than to hold Gerhardt in play until Dorn recovered from his jitters and came down to take his part in the scrap. INCE the Archie fire had slackened as the German plane approached Sex- ton’s, Sexton had some hope that Dorn would chip in. Knowing that the Ger- man’s far greater experience gave him a considerable advantage in combat, Sex- ton nevertheless drove in to attack with- out an instant’s hesitation. Twice the red plane avoided his tracer streams by last-minute dodges; then, by a quick side- loop, Gerhardt gained the upper position, and Sexton saw flaming bullets ripping through his own wing fabric not more than inches from his cockpit. _He banked away, letting the German dive past him, and came down on Ger- hardt’s tail. But the wily Boche increased the angle of his dive and went earth- ward, nose down, at a terrific rate— well aware of the weakness of Nieuport wings, confident that Sexton would not dare follow him at such speed. Sexton saw Dorn diving at an angle which would intercept the German’s dive, and he knew why Gerhardt was trying to get away. Dorn’s tracer flickered below him—flickered and missed. The red wings fell on, untouched. Sexton slammed his stick forward and let the Nieuport go. The wind of his fall screamed in his wires. Unheeding, jaw set like a rock, he whirled down upon Gerhardt, who now was just pulling his ship out of the long dive. Too late he looked up and saw Sexton; too late he swerved. Sexton’s eye saw Gerhardt’s startled face in the center of his ring sight; his thumb closed on his trigger-button, he saw that face dissolve in a welter of splattered blood. The Red-Wing plane whipped over and plunged down in a dive from which there was no hand to bring (E(0) NOON KS} ANCE Medals to the Craven * * * 93 COR