To the Last Man - Jeff Shaara [220]
The balloons had always been tempting targets for the flying squadrons, but the temptation could be a deadly trap. The balloons were protected by batteries of antiaircraft guns, whose accuracy was considerably better when focusing on aircraft who were assaulting their target from only a few hundred feet above the ground. Each balloon was held to its mooring by a series of wire cables, which could be another deadly hazard for the careless pilot. As many overeager pilots had learned, emptying your guns into this ridiculously easy target was no guarantee of success. The flammable gas in the balloons did not always ignite, and by the time the frustrated pilot realized his attempt had failed, he might find a squadron of enemy fighters on his tail, waiting for precisely the right moment for their ambush.
APRIL 6, 1918
Lufbery had been out on patrol alone, still learning the feel of the Nieuport 28, testing and pressing the plane into short steep dives, maneuvering all manner of twists and loops. The Nieuport was not nearly as solid as the SPAD, and Lufbery knew he had been spoiled by the SPAD’s willingness to take any aerobatic abuse a pilot could give her.
The daylight was fading rapidly, the sky darkened by thick clouds. It had been his one advantage, that if he had suddenly been ambushed by a flight of Germans, the unarmed Nieuport could seek easy refuge in the cloud layer. The promises continued to come from the French, but every day the pilots waited for the trucks to arrive, hauling the heavy wooden crates that would carry the machine guns. For two full weeks since the Nieuports had come, there were still no guns.
He brought the Nieuport down gently, testing the stall speed, let the plane settle in a short, quick drop to the ground. He was pleased with the plane’s ability to prolong its glide, a trait distinctly missing from the SPAD, which, according to Bill Thaw, had all the gliding characteristics of a brick. If a motor failed over German territory, whether by mechanical failure, or by taking fire from the enemy, it was comforting to know that the Nieuport might still allow you to reach the safety of your own lines. The SPAD would simply fall.
He turned the Nieuport toward the hangar, was surprised to see two large trucks, surrounded by the entire squadron, including the mechanics. They were waving at him now, and he cut the motor, saw Huffer moving toward him, a wide smile on the man’s face.
Huffer said, “Nice surprise this afternoon, Major. Give our kudos to Colonel Mitchell. He kept pushing until the French finally caved in.”
Lufbery looked toward the trucks, could see men unloading the long boxes.
“I assume—”
“Yep. We got our damned machine guns.”
TOUL, FRANCE—APRIL 14, 1918
They were surprised to be moved again, far to the south, below Verdun, and just west of the city of Nancy. Toul was a critical railway center, and it lay close enough to the front lines that, when the weather allowed, the Germans had made a routine out of bombing the area. Lufbery had experienced this before, and very quickly, after several bleak nights dodging a storm of German firebombs, the pilots understood that the safest place they could be was in the air.
Lufbery had continued to lead the patrols, but