Table Of ContentSky Fighters, February 1936
The Sky Archer
The flaming rocket smashed into the side of von Jager’s ship
Balloon-Busting Was High Dive Hammond’s Hobby—Until They Sent
Him Out with a Weapon He Feared More Than All the Boche!
By RALPH OPPENHEIM
L
IEUTENANT “HIGH DIVE” were dispersing before High Dive
HAMMOND was climbing. His Hammond’s whirling propeller blade. The
throttle was full out, and his rushing air was cold, but the warming
joystick was way back to his chest. He sat golden sunlight was slowly beginning to
in the cockpit of his Spad like a jockey on come through the top of the haze.
a rearing horse, a big hard-muscled High Dive Hammond kept climbing.
jockey, wrapped in furs against the chill His goggled face was set in grim, fighting
dawn air. lines. It was the reckless, hard look of a
Somewhere far below it was still night, daredevil who had chosen the most
but here, at nearly ten thousand feet, the perilous and split-airing type of sky-work
day had already come. The dawn mists in the whole war—balloon-busting. High
SKY FIGHTERS 2
Dive Hammond was one of that daring challenge the skill and nerve of any
company of aviators who knocked down “buster.”
Drachens, knocked them down as fast as
N
the Huns could set them up. OW High Dive Hammond was out to
He had won his nickname because, bring out Drachen Number 10, and
like a high-diver, he would plunge from he did not have any illusions about the job.
the heights straight and true for his balloon The memory of those who had gone before
targets, and burn them before their ground him was burned into his brain.
fire could stop him. Seven of them he had The dawn haze below his climbing
knocked down to date, and now— Spad was practically cleared away now.
“Trouble with this game,” High Dive Under the brightening morning sun, the
Hammond was gritting beneath the mighty relief-map world spread out in distinct
roar of the Hisso, “is that you can’t last visibility for miles and miles. The fiery
long. Look at Frank Luke, the best of them line of the battlefront had now become a
all; they got him in six weeks. And right huge, flaming cauldron of hell, full of
now, I wouldn’t want to bet on my own bursting shells and smoke, and crisscross
hide!” lines which were Yank and German
A look of cold apprehension was trenches.
creeping over his hard, goggled features. Hammond glanced at his altimeter
Bright sunlight was slanting across his needle. It was trembling close to the
wings now; his Spad was shooting up out fifteen-thousand-foot mark—almost three
of the mists like a high-soaring bird— miles from the war-blasted earth. The
breaking into clear, translucent blue sky. Hisso engine began to sing in a high,
He peered over the cowling rim. protesting key: the controls became
Below and ahead the whitish mists drifted sluggish in the thin ether. Hammond
and broke under the glaring sun, and as slowly eased the stick forward, was
they slowly parted like a curtain, the leveling. Way up in the high upper
awakening earth loomed into visibility. reaches, he was coursing straight ahead
A livid swath of fire and smoke now—coursing for the Hun lines.
showed ahead—the flaming Marne And in the next instant, his big body
battlefront. tensed in the cockpit—a cry ripped from
Swiftly, Hisso full out, High Dive his throat.
Hammond was climbing to get over that For from the earth just over the lines, a
fiery expanse: his alert gaze was focused bulky greyish shape was rising slowly but
on the sky across the lines. That sky was steadily into the sunny sky. Like some
empty now. But at any moment, huge, bloated sausage, it rose from the
Hammond knew, Drachen Number 10 cable which anchored it to earth.
would appear there. “Drachen 10—that’s her!” High Dive
Drachen Number 10! Hammond’s lips Hammond gritted.
tightened, his eyes going grim behind their His impulse was to slam the throttle
goggles. To a balloon-buster, all balloons open, hurl faster toward that rising,
are different—each has its individual bloated shape. But his experience as a
personality, is a greater or lesser foe. And balloon-buster restrained him. The higher
of all the balloons the Huns ever floated, the balloon was, the better—for they
Drachen Number 10 was the bugaboo, the would start to pull it down the moment it
most formidable, impossible enemy bag to was attacked, and on the ground it could
THE SKY ARCHER 3
not be gotten at all. a case like this! If that balloon were ours
So, instead of putting on speed, High instead of the Jerries’—von Jager would
Dive Hammond proceeded cautiously have had it down long ago!”
now. Like a furtive bird of prey, his Spad At the mention of that name, every
stole through the high thin sky. His man had stiffened: every eye had
goggled eyes remained fixed on the slowly narrowed with flaming hate and fury. Von
rising Drachen. Higher, higher it soared— Jager! It was this latest and greatest
he could see its swaying wicker basket German ace of aces who had been the
now; he could see the long cable, going cause of the 15th’s present shameful
down to a truck-winch below. predicament.
“If only I could attack the bag the Von Jager was a balloon-buster—and a
usual way,” Hammond was cursing now. devil of a one. No ground defense seemed
“Just dive on it and get it with tracers, impenetrable enough for his attacking red-
instead of—” nosed Albatross. Until von Jager had
His grim glance swept out to the lower started his balloon campaign the Allies
wing surfaces on either side of him. There, were content to take what Drachen
affixed to steel holders on either wing, lay victories their few balloon-busters could
four small, dart-like shapes—two on each get.
side. They lay pointed outward, toward the But when von Jager got so many
air ahead. And from their rear ends, Allied bags that the heavy Allied artillery
electric wires were strung to the Spad’s was virtually rendered blind, reprisal
cockpit. became necessary: the Hun guns must be
A special panel on Hammond’s equally blinded. A counter-balloon-
dashboard was the terminal for those busting campaign had been launched. It
wires. Four buttons jutted out blackly, had been successful until the stumbling
ready to make the contact as soon as they block was reached—Drachen Number 10.
were pressed. “Oh, I know the alibis!” the C.O.
continued his scathing denunciation. “You
H
IGH DIVE HAMMOND looked over claim Drachen 10 has some super-
this whole strange paraphernalia with camouflaged ground defense that no one
grim misgivings. His mind went back to a can get through or spot. Well, all right
fateful afternoon a week ago at the 15th then, since none of you are good enough to
Pursuit Squadron, where he nested. get at that balloon, you’re going to get a
Colonel Sampson, grizzled, veteran new little toy to help you.”
skipper of the 15th, had lined the whole The “new toy” had arrived on the
outfit on the tarmac. They had stood there, drome soon after. It proved to be a special
a dozen hard-fighting, tough-faced phosphorous rocket, the invention of the
buzzards. famous military scientist, Lord Clivens.
“I never thought I’d live to see such a The Clivens rockets, as they were called,
bunch of ninnies under my command!” the had only to touch the surface of a balloon
C.O., a master of invective, had rasped to ignite it. They had a long range, could
out. “Flyers! Bah! A bunch of scared be fired from a plane which could remain
kiwis! And what has you all so buffaloed? out of range of the balloon’s anti-aircraft
A Hun Drachen—full of gas! Just one guns. They were fired from the lower wing
Drachen—and you can’t get it! Well, I of a crate, by electrical contact.
know one bird who wouldn’t say ‘can’t’ in All of which seemed excellent—an
SKY FIGHTERS 4
infallible new method for getting balloons. ground—the Boche was safely away.
But in practice, the Clivens rockets
A
proved to be a dangerous, tricky toy— ND last night, after the 15th’s mess,
more dangerous to the planes using them after a day in which another man had
than to the balloons they were designed to died by those tricky rockets, a beaten, red-
ignite! For rockets cannot be aimed like rim-eyed Colonel Sampson had called
bullets: a slight swerve, a trifle of wind High Dive Hammond to the operations,
resistance—and they can go completely looked at him point-blank.
haywire. “We’ve got to get that bag tomorrow,
The Clivens rockets had a nasty habit Hammond—and no maybe about it!” he
of curving back like a boomerang toward rasped. “Owing to von Jager’s wiping out
the very plane from which they were fired. all our bags, the German artillery is
At other times they would set fire to a threatening to rout all our divisions from
wing while zooming off, or even jam in the trenches. I’m going to schedule the
their holders. patrols—every half hour one or two men
And those rockets, taken on by the are going to go out after that balloon until
15th to combat Drachen Number 10, had it’s down! If you want to go, you’re first
killed as many of the 15th’s pilots as had on the list.”
the ground defense which was now He poured out two stiff drinks of
avoided! cognac, and looked at the star balloon-
It was not their English inventor’s buster with an affection his hard eyes
fault. Clivens had done his best, had didn’t hide. Hammond reached for the
invented the best weapon possible for cognac.
attacking balloons from long range. To get “I can’t get a crack at von Jager—so
the balloon by ordinary bullets was out of I’m trying my luck with those arrow
the question. To get it by one of the things,” he said coolly.
rockets was still a possibility, so the And in the furtive dark of the
method had to be continued. following dawn, High Dive Hammond
And so, for the last week, the 15th— climbed into his Spad which had four
Hammond among them—had dreamed Clivens rockets on its wings. Two other
rockets, eaten rockets, talked rockets and Spads were also on the tarmac, ready to set
toasted the dead who had been doomed by out an hour later. Their pilots, hard-boiled
rockets. To cover their own fears, they Wilkins and young Trask, both wished
even jested about the little darts. Hammond godspeed.
Meanwhile, High Dive Hammond, “Save us the trip if you can,” Wilkins
having no faith in the rockets at all, had grinned.
been working fiercely but vainly on “If not, we’ll meet you in hell
another track. Knowing that the cause of anyway,” said young Trask, with cheerful
all of this was von Jager, he had gone out courage.
each day on the warpath for the red-nosed Leaving them behind, High Dive
Albatross of the Boche ace. Hammond had zoomed into the chill sky
But von Jager was elusive as an eel. with his four rockets.
He always appeared at some balloon And now, cautiously, he was
Hammond did not happen to be near. By approaching the air above the rising
the time Hammond reached the scene, all Drachen Number 10. Slowly but steadily,
he found was the smoldering ashes on the that big balloon was still rising down
THE SKY ARCHER 5
there. Six thousand feet now—seven; to be one of his hair-raising high dives.
Hammond estimated as, miles higher, he Again his glance swept to the four
continued his grim approach. Then at last, dartlike shapes on his wings. A full-speed
at over eight thousand feet, the balloon dive would surely smack him into those
stopped rising. It came to a swaying stop, rockets when he fired them. He must not
drifting with the wind, the ominous black develop too much wind pressure.
German cross showing on its upper “Confound the new-fangled things!”
surface. he cursed. “If only there was a chance to
do this job the regular way!”
I
N the next instant, High Dive Hammond Fearful of gathering too much speed
saw something happen on the battlefront from a dive even from here, he eased the
below. He saw the flashing geysers of stick forward, cut the throttle-and
heavy German shells, bursting amid the furtively, cautiously, he was piquing down
Yank trenches, blasting craters of in a wide circle, getting closer above that
destruction and slaughter. swaying bag.
Drachen Number 10 was doing its He peered down at it. How easy it
work. The observers in its swaying basket looked—just a big hunk of bologna
were phoning the Allied positions to the floating in the peaceful air! And yet,
Hun heavy artillery—ranging the nearly a dozen men had died trying to
slaughtering fire. And Hammond could knock it down.
see that there was no compensating Allied High Dive Hammond snapped himself
heavy fire in return. from these conjectures, as he noted that
“Damn that Boche!” Hammond cursed the shells the Drachen was ranging were
aloud. “I’ll put out this balloon as sure as scoring with greater accuracy on the Yank
von Jager’s put out ours—even if it’s the trenches to the west.
last thing I do!” His lips set into a tight, determined
Closer and closer now. Stealing in high line. Once more he swung his Spad in a
above that floating Drachen. Hammond circle, got it into a position above and to
snatched a pair of binoculars from a one side of the swaying Drachen. For the
cockpit compartment, adjusted them to his last time he looked over the Clivens
goggled eyes. Within the glasses the Hun rockets—the wire-connected buttons on
ground beneath the balloon loomed close the dashboard.
and distinct. He could see the coal-scuttle- “If only they work this time!” he
helmeted, grey-clad Germans swarming at gritted.
the winch, see the telephone operator in Then, teeth clenched, he pushed the
the truck. But he could not see any anti- joy-stick forward. The Spad dipped,
aircrafts or ground pom-poms. There was careened into a steep dive. Not the hell-
only green foliage, brush, trees—earth. bending vertical high dive, but a slower,
“Tricky camouflage, all right!” the swooping descent.
Yank rapped. “Never dream the place is a Down he went flitting—and slowly the
beehive of guns!” grey sausage-like Drachen loomed toward
As he now swept high over the him. But before he was even near it, hell
balloon, he started instinctively to pull itself seemed to burst forth from the
back his stick again, to force his protesting ground below, erupting from the very
crate to still higher altitude. But sudden surface of the earth! Up into the sky there
remembrance checked him. This was not hurled such a spew of flaming anti-aircraft
SKY FIGHTERS 6
fire as High Dive Hammond had never Hiss-s-s-s!
seen in his life. The blinding light of the igniting
Grumpf! Grumpf! Grumpf! The deep- rocket dazzled him from the left lower
throated Archie barks shattered the roar of wing. Even at the instant that the streaking
his own Hisso. Black mushrooms with dart of fire whisked into space, Hammond
hearts of flame stained the blue on all was madly pulling back his stick, jerking
sides below—”flaming onions” hung like his Spad out of the dive.
weird bulbs on a string. A score of Archies
A
and pom-poms were blazing away down S the crate lurched upward,
there—trying to reach for the Spad which screaming in every strut, Hammond’s
had been spotted the very instant it started goggled eyes looked wildly for his
down! discharged rocket. A thrill of exultant hope
Several of the shells burst close swept through him then—for the rocket
enough to rock High Dive Hammond’s was actually streaking down, drawing a
crate—but as yet he was out of range of line of livid white through the black anti-
the rest. He peered down, straining his aircraft smoke. It was headed for the
eyes to keep track of the Drachen through balloon! Straight and true, it was whizzing
the accumulating smoke and shrapnel. for that swaying bag, and—
Even now, though he could see myriad Then a frenzied curse of helpless
flashes from the guns, Hammond could despair burst from Hammond’s throat. For
not see the camouflaged weapons as if to mock him, that rocket suddenly
themselves. They were all around, veered erratically from its straight course!
somewhere under that trick foliage, or It avoided the balloon as if deliberately—
whatever it was. curved way out from the bag and, on a
Grumpf! Grumpf! The mighty barrage crazy tangent, dropped, burning
continued to arc up, forming a literal solid phosphorescently, to the ground below.
wall above the balloon—a wall ready to Cursing, Hammond was whipping up
envelop the slow-descending Spad. into an Immelmann turn now, pivoting up
Grim-faced, he held his dive until he and over in the sunny sky. He had aimed
was barely on the top surface of that black the rocket as best he could; yet it had
wall of death. Then, wildly, he was missed the target completely, missed it by
jockeying his plane, with his eyes still hundreds of yards!
fixed on the smoke-surrounded balloon far Once more he peered down through
below. He looked at his slanting wings. the continued smoke of shells. His rage
Their forward edges were both slanted increased as he saw that the Huns were not
toward that Drachen. The range was even pulling the balloon down. Even they
long—but it should be right. had no faith in those rockets—did not
Quickly, all in this last instant, seem to fear them!
Hammond reached with his left hand for “Well, Clivens had to shoot two
the first button on the panel. His fingers rockets before one went right,” Hammond
rested on it, hesitating an infinitesimal gritted then. “And I’ve still got three left.
second. Then, when another instant’s God, how I wish I could show these Jerries
delay would have made him dive into the something to stop their laughing!”
hell of antiaircraft fire—Hammond And once more, cursing, he flung his
breathed a quick little prayer and pressed wings down at a slant for that smoke-
the button. obscured balloon. Once more he dived
THE SKY ARCHER 7
toward the top of that blazing anti-aircraft and further below, the anti-aircraft fire
wall. This time he went so close that he subsided; the flaming, smoking wall of
could hear the shrill whizz of shrapnel, shells sank out of the air.
smell the acrid stench of the smoke in his What to do now? Drachen Number 10
nostrils. still swayed in the air; while Hammond sat
helpless in his plane, the Hun shells
A
GAIN he aimed his wings as best he ranged by the balloon continued to burst
could. And then pressed another amid his own countrymen on the
button—the one on the right side this time. battlefront. And in the next instant, as he
Sizzling, the rocket shot out from the right glanced at the western sky, there came a
lower wing surface. sight which filled him with fresh frenzy.
No sooner was it off than High Dive Coming from the Allied lines,
Hammond gave a cry of sudden, wild approaching rapidly, two Spads were
alarm. Even as he was pulling up his crate, hastening this way, flying wing to wing at
he saw the treacherous, flaring dart curve high altitude.
back—it was a boomerang! Hell-bent, a The half hour of his patrol was up! The
mass of blinding fire, it was coming C.O. had sent out two other men—Wilkins
straight for his Spad! And if it so much as and Trask—both of them good friends,
touched the ship it would surely set the squadron comrades of his.
crate ablaze, for the phosphorous would Two more men to be sacrificed to the
burn through anything. treacherous rockets! If Hammond gave up
With mad haste, Hammond flung his the job, those two buzzards would be
joy-stick way over to one side, stood on tackling it. He knew then, with a cold
the rudder bar. The Spad seesawed crazily, tightness of heart, that he couldn’t
side-slipped like a frantic moth. The abandon the job and leave it to those two
blinding phosphorous rocket came on— squadron mates. He couldn’t leave the
with a treacherous hiss, it grazed past Drachen when he still had two rockets.
Hammond’s side-slipping left wing, But on the other hand, he saw nothing
missing it by scant inches, and finally but his own suicide if he fired the two
burned itself out somewhere in the sky remaining darts. And if he died, Wilkins
beyond. and Trask would still have to go down to
Sweat broke out on High Dive face a similar doom!
Hammond’s goggled face, despite the cold Closer and closer came those two other
upper air. Shaken, cursing, he was Spads. In minutes now they would be here.
mechanically climbing again—away from Then a sudden surge of utter
the anti-aircraft fire below. recklessness took possession of High Dive
He felt foolish, ridiculous. The Boches Hammond. Desperation made him
below must be laughing their heads off! abandon all thoughts of caution, robbed
Hammond shook his head. him even of common sense.
“By God,” he cried, “I’m through with Rather than take another chance on the
these lousey Limey darts! They’re no rockets, he preferred to stake everything
good, and the devil take them!” on his own methods! It seemed
It was no use continuing the suicidal impossible, absurd, and yet—
farce. Bitterly, with a sense of utter defeat “If I could dive fast, so fast that those
and failure, Hammond continued to climb anti-aircrafts won’t open up until I’m
now—and as he left the balloon further almost through—”
SKY FIGHTERS 8
With those two Spads of the 15th splitting the very heavens. Like a
coming ever closer, Hammond yanked plummet, the crate was plunging almost on
back his stick to his chest, opened his a vertical, plunging with gathering,
throttle full. His Spad reared on its tail, its breakneck speed, plunging with smoke
whirling propeller pointed toward the top trailing from its exhaust stacks, with the
of the sunny blue sky. Roaring, the plane wind screaming through its flying wires
zoomed. and bending back its wings!
High Dive Hammond was climbing for High Dive Hammond sat hunched
the attack, climbing as he had always forward in the down-hurtling ship. He sat
climbed—reaching for the highest possible with his mouth open, with a long, curdling
ceiling. Up, up, higher and higher into the yell coming from his throat. He yelled to
thinning vault of heaven, he urged his keep himself from collapsing under the
Spad. mad pressure of that mad dive.
Seventeen thousand feet—eighteen— Down, down, down! The Drachen
nineteen. Then, at last, the plane hung in loomed swiftly below, growing as if it
agony on its own ceiling, and Hammond, were just being inflated. Down—down!
breathing hard in the rare ether, leveled
T
off. He circled and looked down. HEN it happened, even as High Dive
Miles below, way down through a Hammond had known it must happen.
sheer drop of space, he saw the swaying Once more hell itself broke loose from the
Drachen—a tiny grey sausage shape now. peaceful earth below the balloon.
To the west the two oncoming Spads were Grumpf! Grumpf! Grumpf! The terrific
two little specks. A.A. spew blackened the air—it rose like a
They were close, those Spads. He must storm to envelop the diving, plunging
finish the job before they came here. Spad.
With lightning haste, Hammond Shell-bursts blinded the eyes of High
examined the two breeches of the Dive Hammond, deafened his ears. He felt
glistening Vickers guns mounted on the his Spad shiver in its plunge, as if a giant
cowl before him. He patted them as if they were shaking it like a rattle. He heard the
were old friends—at least they would death-whine of whizzing shrapnel, the
shoot straight, would not bring bullets wasplike buzz of pom-pom bullets. And at
boomeranging back! And the first half of that moment he knew that he had tried and
each belt in the breeches was full of failed!
incendiary bullets. Half a belt of For the balloon was still far below.
incendiaries: the rest tracers and plain. Swift as his dive had been, it had not been
Carefully now he wheeled his Spad too swift for the crack German ground
into a circle above the Drachen. He poised guns!
on four miles of space, truly like a high They were blasting him from every
diver poising on the platform and gazing side, bursting at his very face! He was
down into the infinitesimal tank far below. coughing, choking, in the smoke fumes.
And then— He heard shrapnel and bullets hacking
With a berserk, reckless oath, through his fuselage, heard struts cracking
Hammond slammed his joy-stick forward and wires snapping.
all the way to the fire-wall and ripped his Madly, futilely, now, he was still
throttle open to the last notch! trying to head for the balloon—his
The Spad stood on its head, its Hisso stubborn eye refusing to lose sight of that
THE SKY ARCHER 9
bag below. But he knew even now that he his Spad the most.
was never going to get close enough to use A wild, insane sense of joy surged
his guns. The A.A. fire was blasting him through the reckless Yank. He was back in
off his course, slowing his dive. his element now; he knew what to do and
In cold horror, he saw the flashes of just how to do it! A quick shove on his
the score of guns on the ground. He saw rudder and stick—and his lurching Spad
gleaming, up-pointed muzzles and— Even curved wildly in its dive. The A.A.s, as if
in that hectic instant, amid that maelstrom sensing his purport, blazed away with new
of hell, his eyes popped wide. He saw gun fury. The Spad lurched, vibrated in every
muzzles! fiber as it struggled on through that hellish
Crazily, he was peering down through storm.
the bursting smoke puffs. .And his Then, though the A.A.s were still
amazement grew. He could see coal- blasting the air around him, High Dive
scuttled Germans on the ground running Hammond knew that he was no longer in
around crazily, like chickens. He could see such a hopeless predicament. For, by his
that there was some kind of fire down last wild, reckless maneuver, he had put
there. Foliage was burning, blazing and— the Drachen between his Spad and that
But that wasn’t foliage that was menacing anti-aircraft battery below.
burning! It was an enormous screen, a Temporarily at least, that hydrogen-filled
camouflage screen with fake, painted balloon was a shield; the battery down
foliage on top of it. It was burning away there did not dare to fire for fear of hitting
rapidly, like a curtain. And as it burned, a the balloon.
pit was being revealed below it—a pit in
J
which were those up-pointed, blazing OYOUSLY, High Dive Hammond got
antiaircraft guns. Their crews, protected his battered crate back into a furious,
from the fire behind their steel shields, break-neck dive. His yell was a yell of
were busily working the weapons. savage glee now as he went plunging
At first High Dive Hammond down anew for the balloon at a
wondered what had started this mathematically calculated angle.
conflagration. Then memory came like a Now the balloon itself was descending.
bolt from the blue. The area of this fire The Huns at last were scared.
was the exact place where his own first But though the balloon was
phosphorous rocket—the rocket that had descending, its observers did not yet jump
missed the balloon—had landed. That from the basket. Evidently they had orders
rocket had ignited the inflammable to continue ranging the Yank battlefront as
camouflage screen! long as possible.
Even with shells bursting around him, This, as well as the knowledge that if
howling in his ears, High Dive Hammond the balloon descended much lower he
was laughing crazily. That useless, new- would no longer be able to use it for a
fangled rocket had removed the screen against the powerful A.A. battery,
camouflage down there, and he was able spurred High Dive Hammond to even
now to see the guns which ranged him. greater speed. He coaxed his screaming,
With the speed that comes only to a protesting Spad on down.
desperate man, he spotted a particularly The slower-descending Drachen
dense battery of A.A.s –saw that it was loomed out of the mist of shell smoke. Its
their well-aimed fire which was menacing grey surfaces grew larger, until they
SKY FIGHTERS 10
blotted out everything in front of High here. He glanced around, looking for them,
Dive Hammond. for they must be here by now.
Rat-ta-tat-tat-tat! Rat-ta-tat-tat-tat!
A
His twin Vickers leaped on their N alarmed yell burst from him. For
mounts. Twin streams of fire and smoke even in that second, he saw it—a
belched from them-the streaking, flat- flaming, spinning Spad plunging from
sounding course of incendiaries! above and to one side. Even as it fell, four
They couldn’t have missed that grey dazzling rockets, ignited by the flames,
balloon surface which filled the sky in scattered in all directions from it.
front of them. They went tearing right into Hammond caught a glimpse of a white,
the soft, silky bag, smoking as they went. goggled face in the cockpit-two agonized
Hammond kept on going down, pumping arms warding off the eddying flames.
the Drachen with burst upon burst, until Wilkins! Wilkins going down in flames,
that grey surface of balloon threatened to done for!
swish into his very propeller. Then, looking up at the sky whence
Then, only then, did he horse back on that Spad had fallen, High Dive Hammond
his joy-stick—literally yanking the Spad gave a fresh cry. He saw the second Spad
from its dive with his own strength. At the now, the Spad of young Trask, gyrating,
instant he pulled up his nose, he fired the half-rolling wildly.
last of his incendiaries. It was trying to meet the swooping,
Then, with mad haste, he was zooming vulture-like attack of a slender-nosed
his riddled crate for all it was worth, Boche scout—a swift, deadly Albatross
zooming while the balloon was still whose guns were spitting!
shielding him from the hellish A.A. fire. In a flash, even as his horrified eyes
That was no more than a few seconds. saw the crate of the hapless Wilkins crash
For as he zoomed, a tongue of flame to earth in a column of flame, Hammond
spurted out from the Drachen’s surface, understood. While he had dived on that
went licking greedily over the huge bag. balloon, Wilkins and Trask had
And then the conflagration filled the sky. intercepted this Albatross—which
The Drachen, its hydrogen burning otherwise would have dived on him,
furiously, collapsed in the mass of livid perhaps caught him cold.
flames, went hurtling down in an The Hun, though the odds were two to
enormous trail of oily black smoke. one against him, had nevertheless
Just before it collapsed, three managed to shoot down Wilkins—and
parachutes mushroomed out safe below now he was diving fiercely on young
and to one side of it. The observers had Trask.
bailed out at last. With a curse, Hammond was
Drachen Number 10 settled to earth, a slamming his throttle open, zooming
smoldering heap of ruin. And though madly for the fray. He was still wondering
every anti-aircraft spewed in fury at High how Wilkins, who had been a crack flyer
Dive Hammond, his Spad was already and who had had another ace to help him,
safely zooming out of range. had been downed so quickly, downed in
Only then did the victorious balloon- flames.
buster recall Wilkins and Trask, the two And then, as he zoomed on up, and the
other Spad-flyers he had last seen racing planes overhead loomed into closer view,
