All-Story Weekly, February 17, 1917
T a distance of ten yards from the
was actuated rather more by a mechanical
cunningly contrived artificial copse of
sense of performing his duty with that
A shrubs where Sub-Lieutenant thoroughness which is so essential a part of Schneider was crouching, no one would have
the Teutonic character than he was actuated by
dreamed of the presence of a human being.
the expectation of seeing any possible enemy
Two hundred yards in the rear of the little knot aircraft, when, for the twentieth time that
of boughs, the neutral tints of the hangar roofs morning, he applied his eye to the lens of the
blended into the landscape where they were
powerful binocular mounted on the quadrant
erected, with similar elusiveness. The science
of the antiaircraft gun where he was stooping,
of protective coloration, from the ground or
and swept the sun-drenched vistas of
from the air had been so carefully worked out
westward space between them and the
that, although the forty hangars were trenches.
undeniably existent, no enemy aviator could
A
marvelous
mechanism—that
have been sure of their precise whereabouts,
binocular; dragging distance into the
save from information other than derived by a
foreground as relentlessly as gravitation
vagrant downward glimpse from a machine
dragged a disabled aeroplane earthward;
speeding over the spot.
magnifying, with magical distinctness, the
So, at least, Sub-Lieutenant Schneider
details of aircraft on a clear day so that the
flattered himself.
markings, the types of construction, and, in
How, in fact, could it well be some instances, the number of occupants were otherwise?
all disclosed.
Had not his colonel, after many
But the marvel did not end with the
painstaking experiments, confirmed the binocular—it merely began there; and selection of the final colors? And was not his
continued, with that nefarious sureness which
superior officer. Colonel Frederick Imman, in
all things must possess to be worthy of
command of the base as well as of the entire
reliance in this, the hour of the Fatherland’s
squadrille of aircraft in the Meuse sector?
need.
Sub-Lieutenant Schneider, therefore,
With the exception of one minute
All-Story Weekly
2
section of the far-flung horizon to the west,
its great distance from the watcher—yet,
there was absolutely nothing in sight. There, a nevertheless, it was moving; crossing the
score of miles from the crouching watcher,
minute squares into which the field of vision
puffs of dun-colored vapor, shot through with
was divided, with mathematical exactness.
occasional streaks of golden cream,
Schneider removed his head from the
continually appeared with a certain marked
eye-piece and scanned the spot with his naked
regularity; burst into bloom like a head of
eye. He could scarcely be sure, for several
cauliflower, hovered intermittently and minutes, that he had not been the victim of an dispersed lazily—as if loath to depart.
illusion; then, out of the heart of the sky he
Somewhere around and in this sector
could faintly perceive that dot.
were many German battle-planes, directing
Instantly, he again applied his eye to
the monotonous but unceasing and frightfully
the instrument.
destructive “drumfire” of the artillery engaged Yes, it was true. It was an aeroplane.
in shattering the outer fortresses of Verdun.
Yet, the longer he peered, the more
But the binocular through which he
was peering was not intended to penetrate that
aircraft was at such a height that it would be
gruesome, turgid mass; nor was it any part of
impossible for its occupant to discern the
the duty of Sub-Lieutenant Schneider to slightest variation in the landscape over which discern the fate of the airmen either on scout
he was flying; certainly at that great elevation at that point, or those engaged in driving back the pools of water on such a brilliant,
their opponents who were searching the cloudless day would turn into mirrors shooting German lines for the information through back the shimmer of the sun in shafts of such which alone an intelligent defense of the intensity that they would all but blind the mighty fortress was possible.
pilot; certainly, also, no road could be seen; no The sub-lieutenant’s duty was merely
column of troops or convoy of supplies spied
to protect the base of the aeroplanes of the
out and dispersed by well-directed showers of
Fatherland from any too inquisitive, predatory
arrows or bombs.
airman, who might, through skill or strategy,
Besides, the fellow, whoever he was,
evade the scouts already aloft, and possibly do was alone; a peculiar—nay, almost a
permanent mischief by bombing the disquieting—circumstance; for he was not apparently innocuous open space wherein the
returning toward the spot, where Schneider
German hangars hovered like brooding hens,
was now eying him with growing malignancy,
waiting the return of their errant chickens.
by any of the routes which their own aircraft
Then, overhead, so high that at first
used.
Schneider assured himself that a fleck of dust
Again he adjusted the eye-piece to
must have settled on the opposite end of his
accommodate his vision to the swiftly
telescope, appeared a black dot. Almost at
lessening distance.
once, however, he knew that it was not a fleck
Next instant he bellowed a hoarse
of dust, but an aeroplane flying at a prodigious command.
elevation. He knew it, because, had it been
The ground beneath and around him
merely a fleck of dust, it would have revealed
regurgitated men. Toward them Schneider
itself on only one of the two lenses through
flung barbed commands, without taking his
which he was peering; also, it would have
eyes from the lenses. One of them hastily
remained stationary; whereas, this particular
swung back a lever. There was an instant of
speck was moving—slowly, apparently, due to
premonitory quivering, then, smoothly,
Brother Enemies
3
swiftly, and silently—save for the snakelike
One of these images projected the
hiss of escaping air below the officer’s feet—
aeroplane right side up. precisely as it
the gun-platform rose some six feet from its
ap
peared to the naked eye; the other projected
place of concealment; the muzzle of the it as upside down; and the instant those two formidable weapon gently nuzzled aside the
images superimposed over each other, making
protective foliage with which it was draped,
one composite image, that instant the latch
and gaped upward at an angle of some fifty
controlling the firing-pin would be released,
degrees.
and the death-freighted shrapnel projectile
There it paused, like the throat of a
would be launched with terrific velocity to an
bird waiting a worm from its mother. Came
elevation of at least eight thousand feet,
another command, and it shifted a trifle to the exploding directly under or a little in advance north.
of the on-coming aviator.
Again a pregnant pause.
Already the free hand of the sub-
The officer was now methodically lieutenant was lifted to signal to fire.
adjusting two large brass screws, by means of
When it dropped, it would be the
which he kept his binocular focused upon the
precursor of the fall of that oncoming biplane, now plainly discernible aircraft.
as surely as the shell left the gun. For the
And, with each motion, however insouciant chap above was now clearly visible slight, the muzzle of the gun shifted to to even the naked eye; and the spyglass correspond, synchronizing faultlessly the revealed, with unmistakable certainty, the movement of the spyglass.
Well, indeed, had Sub-Lieutenant painted on the under side of each wing, Schneider reason to smile, contemptuously;
proclaiming the machine to be one employed
for, with every adjustment of the two screws
by the Allied Powers, and his fate was sealed.
which he operated, the more nefariously sure
Next instant the shell left the gun.
became the inevitable fate of the intrepid
And, following the instant of its
individual who thus recklessly challenged that
explosion, far, far aloft, the biplane came
combination of science and resourcefulness at
hurtling earthward in a dizzying, sickening,
the command of the concealed watcher.
headlong dive, almost but not quite straight
“Another half-mile,” muttered
downward toward the mouth of the gun whose
Schneider to the eye-piece, “and he will be
shell had been speeded upward to achieve this
within range.” And. again, as before, very purpose.
sedulously watching the approaching aviator
Again Sub-Lieutenant Schneider,
through the twin-barrels of his telescope, he
swiftly twisting the screws of his glass,
twisted the screws, while he voiced another
brought the diving aeroplane into the field of
command in an all but inaudible tone.
his vision.
Even the men below him who slid the
Being thus engaged, he did not notice
vicious, gleaming projectile into the breech of the sturdy, erect figure at the side of the gun the antiaircraft gun, felt a momentary qualm
platform, in field gray uniform, on whose
of pity for the daring man aloft, riding into the collar shone the insignia of his rank as
jaws of a certain death.
colonel, and on whose breast gleamed the iron
They could see, in their mind’s eye,
cross won in another war: else discipline
the same as their commander could see in
would have stifled the involuntary
actuality, the twin images which that superb
exclamation which burst from the watcher’s
binocular disclosed.
lips:
All-Story Weekly
4
“Mein Gott! It is Herr Rockwood, could be no respite. Already the second shell himself! ”
was in place, the breech locked, the wicked
At the sound of his voice the gun-crew
blue eyes of the sub-lieutenant were glued to
grouped around the mechanism stiffened into
the orifice of his binocular, waiting until the rigidity, standing with averted eyes, as the
twin images grew yet a little smaller, ere he
biplane, now diving with an incredible speed
annihilated the reckless airman whom surely a
earthward, swept down upon them.
miracle had preserved before.
Over the features of Colonel Frederick
Then, abruptly, at his feet came a quiet
Imman passed an involuntary spasm of pain:
command in tones he well knew:
next instant he was again the cold, calm,
“Sub-Lieutenant Schneider, you will
emotionless, and severe commander.
not fire again at Aviator Rockwood. You will,
The aeroplane was within five hundred
instead, by wireless, give him safe conduct
feet of them now, but, oddly enough, at the
back to his own lines.”
very instant it should have come crashing
Mechanically the subordinate saluted.
clown to earth, the pilot whipped one arm over
Inwardly, he told himself Colonel
the edge of the fuselage—something hurtled
Imman had gone mad.
downward through the flawless air of the
Then he flashed a swift, sidewise
summer morning—and then, to their amazed
glance toward his superior, who was standing,
ears came the renewed and defiant roar of the
with bared head, gazing after the fast
powerful motor.
disappearing aeroplane—the pilot of which
Before the first sporadic sputter had
was triply hated.
grown into the thrumming volley that showed
Hated, first, because he was their
engine unimpaired and pilot uninjured, the
enemy.
thing he had thrown downward was eddying
Hated, again, because he was a
toward the feet of no less an individual than
volunteer aviator, from America.
Colonel Imman himself; while the members of
Hated most of all by Schneider and his
the antiaircraft gun-crew, like frightened men, and more intensely than any other rabbits, flung themselves into their burrows as aviator flying for the Allied arms, because he
one man, all save the commander of the base
had shot down no less than a dozen of their
and the softly cursing officer, who was again
own airmen—this blood-glutted American
twisting the screws frantically that controlled who had wantonly crossed the seas to help to
his gun’s mechanism.
crush the Fatherland they were sworn to
As unerringly as a pointer indicates the
defend to the death!
covey of birds for his master, so, with fairly
“Yes, he must be quite mad!” muttered
frantic swiftness the gun again revolved in a
the sub-lieutenant to himself, walking away,
semicircle until it pointed eastward at the before the crackle of the wireless key, fleeing aeroplane, and again the bellowed conveying the mystifying order to all the command of the sub-lieutenant brought the
German arms, broke out of the adjoining
gun-crew back to their duty.
shrubs next to that where the antiaircraft gun
The
aeroplane, like a fleeing vulture,
was concealed.
was now darting in abrupt angles, this way
He glanced again covertly toward his
and that, but rising constantly. Its pilot had
chief.
hurdled the concealed gun emplacement like a
Colonel Imman, his head still bared,
thoroughbred taking a barrier only a second
was bending over toward the ground. Then he
before. But, for him now, of a surety, there
stood erect again, replaced his cap, and
Brother Enemies
5
walked swiftly toward the rear of the group of
Sixteen of these young airmen had
half-invisible hangars, glancing neither to the gathered around him to receive the hurried
right nor the left.
orders which he gave to them in person;
Toward a slight, new-made mound he
among them his own son, Flight-Lieutenant
walked, a score of yards behind the hangars;
Imman, who would nominally command the
then paused and gazed down at it with squad, on the desperate and hazardous mission brooding, misty eyes.
which the corps commander unfolded with
After a short space he raised his head
precise, terse instructions.
and glanced around.
The element of time was so pressing
Aviator Rockwood, now a tiny fleck of
that scarcely six minutes elapsed between
gray-black against the flawless ambient, was
their assembling and the moment when they
winging his path back toward his own lines—
were scurrying toward their respective
this time at a much lower elevation than hangars.
before.
Eleven machines were run out of the
neutral-colored hangars an hour before dawn;
Colonel Imman’s enigmatic order to spare the
six of which were amazingly swift Fokkers,