Unless the guns
could be taken across in safety, they stood to lose many of their best
batteries.
Consequently they would be apt to assemble a flotilla of fighting planes
in that vicinity, ready to soar aloft and give furious battle to any
Allied squadron venturesome enough to make the attempt at destruction.
If the blowing up of the bridge could only be accomplished, the sacrifice
of a few planes with their crews might be counted a cheap price to pay
for the great benefits reaped.
The minutes passed, and all the while the raiders were drawing nearer and
nearer their intended goal. Every pilot and observer in that squadron had
been carefully selected with a view to his fitness for the gigantic task
that had been laid out for accomplishment.
There would be no hesitation when the eventful moment came, since none
was present save those who had been tried in the furnace of battle and
found to be fine gold, eighteen carat pure. Such a thing as flinching
when the test came was not to be considered; they would carry through
their appointed tasks or fall while in the endeavor, paying the price the
airman has ever had dangled before his eyes.
Jack was using his night-glass, and he now broke out with a cry.
"We must be getting close to the bridge, Tom! I can see flickering
lights darting about, and I believe they must be planes rushing up
into the air!"
"Like as not they've been warned of our coming by the row we're making,"
replied the pilot, in a shout.
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