I visited aviation centers where these machines were delivered for tests, and found the places swarming with armies of men training and inspecting and testing the aeroplanes.

Among aviators busy at this work were: Charles F. Willard, J. A. D.

McCurdy, Walter R. Brookins, Frank T. Coffyn, Harry N. Atwood, Oscar Allen Brindley, Leonard Warren Bonney, Charles C. Witmer, Harold H.

Brown, John D. Cooper, Harold Kantner, Clifford L. Webster, John H.

Worden, Anthony Jannus, Roy Knabenshue, Earl S. Dougherty, J. L. Callan, T. T. Maroney, R. E. McMillen, Beckwith Havens, DeLloyd Thompson, Sidney F. Beckwith, George A. Gray, Victor Carlstrom, Chauncey M. Vought, W. C.

Robinson, Charles F. Niles, Frank H. Burnside, Theodore C. Macaulay, Art Smith, Howard M. Rinehart, Albert Sigmund Heinrich, P. C. Millman, Robert Fowler.

In the balloon training camps, I noticed some old-time balloonists, including: J. C. McCoy, A. Leo Stevens, Frank P. Lahm, Thomas S. Baldwin, A. Holland Forbes, Charles J. Glidden, Charles Walsh, Carl G. Fisher, Wm.

F. Whitehouse, George B. Harrison, Jay B. Benton, J. Walter Flagg, John Watts, Roy F. Donaldson, Ralph H. Upson, R. A. D. Preston and Warren Rasor.

Five days before the battle the hundred great carriers began delivering their deadly loads on the heights of Arlington, south of the Potomac, each aeroplane making three trips from Niagara Falls every twenty-four hours, which meant that on the morning of November 5, 1921, when the German legions came within range of Leonard Wood's field artillery, there were 5,000 tons of liquid chlorine ready to be hurled down from the aerial fleet. And it was estimated that the carriers would continue to deliver a thousand tons a day from Grand Island as long as the deadly stuff was needed.

The actual work of dropping these chlorine bombs upon the enemy was entrusted to another fleet of smaller aeroplanes gathered from all parts of the country, most of them belonging to members of the Aero Club of America who not only gave their machines but, in many cases, offered their services as pilots or gunners for the impending air battle.

"What is the prospect?" I asked Henry Woodhouse, chief organiser of these aeroplane forces, on the day before the fight.

He was white and worn after days of overwork, but he spoke hopefully.

"We have chlorine enough," he said, "but we need more attacking aeroplanes. We've only about forty squadrons with twelve aeroplanes to a squadron and most of our pilots have never worked in big air manoeuvres.

It's a great pity. Ah, look there! If they were all like Bolling's squadron!"

He pointed toward the heights back of Remington where a dozen bird machines were sweeping through the sky in graceful evolutions.

"What Bolling is that?"

"Raynal C.--the chap that organised the first aviation section of the New York National Guard. Ah! See those boys turn! That's Boiling at the head of the 'V,' with James E. Miller, George von Uta.s.sy, Fairman d.i.c.k, Jerome Kingsbury, William Boulding, 3rd, and Lorbert Carolin. They've got Sturtevant steel battle planes--given by Mrs. Bliss--yes, Mrs. William H.

Bliss. She's one of the patron saints of the Aero Club."

We strolled among the hangars and Mr. Woodhouse presented me to several aeroplane squadron commanders, Cornelius Vanderbilt, Robert Bacon, G.o.dfrey Lowell Cabot, Russell A. Alger, Robert Glendinning, George Brokaw, Clarke Thomson, Cortlandt F. Bishop; also to Rear Admiral Robert E. Peary, Archer M. Huntington, J. Stuart Blackton, and Albert B.

Lambert, who had just come in from a scouting and map-making flight over the German lines. These gentlemen agreed that America's chances the next day would be excellent if we only had more attacking aeroplanes, about twice as many, so that we could overwhelm the enemy with a rain of chlorine sh.e.l.ls.

"I believe three hundred more aeroplanes would give us the victory,"

declared Alan R. Hawley, ex-president of the Aero Club.

"Think of it," mourned August Belmont. "We could have had a thousand aeroplanes so easily--two thousand for the price of one battleship. And now--to-morrow--three hundred aeroplanes might save this nation."

Cornelius Vanderbilt nodded gloomily. "The lack of three hundred aeroplanes may cost us the Atlantic seaboard. These aeroplanes would be worth a million dollars apiece to us and we can't get 'em."

"The fifty aeroplanes of the Post Office are mighty useful," observed Ex-Postmaster-General Frank H. Hitchc.o.c.k to Postmaster-General Burleson.

"It isn't the fault of you gentlemen," said Emerson McMillin, "if we did not have five thousand aeroplanes in use for mail carrying, and coast guard and life-saving services."

This remark was appreciated by some of the men in the group, including Alexander Graham Bell, Admiral Peary, Henry A. Wise Wood, Henry Woodhouse, Albert B. Lambert, and Byron R. Newton, head of the Coast Guard and Life Saving Service. For years they had all made supreme but unavailing efforts to make Congress realize the value of an aeroplane reserve which could be employed every day for peaceful purposes and would be available in case of need.

"Five thousand aeroplanes could have been put in use for carrying mail and express matter and in the Coast Guard," said Mr. McMillin, "and with them we could have been in the position of the porcupine, which goes about its peaceful pursuits, harms no one, but is ever ready to defend itself. Had we had them in use, this war would probably never have taken place."

A little later, as we were supping in a farmhouse, there came a great shouting outside and, rushing to doors and windows, we witnessed a miracle, if ever there was one. There, spread across the heavens from west and south, sweeping toward us, in proud alignment, squadron by squadron--there was the answer to our prayers, a great body of aeroplanes waving the stars and stripes in the glory of the setting sun.

"Who are they? Where do they come from?" we marvelled, and, presently, as the sky strangers came to earth like weary birds, a great cry arose: "Santos Dumont! Santos Dumont!"

It was indeed the great Santos, the famous Brazilian sportsman, and president of the Aeronautical Federation of the Western Hemisphere, who had come thus opportunely to cast his fortunes with tortured America and fight for the maintenance of the Monroe Doctrine. With him came the Peruvian aviator, Bielovucci, first to fly across the Alps (1914), and Senor Ana.s.sagasti, president of the Aero Club Argentino, and also four hundred aeroplanes with picked crews from all parts of South America.

There was great rejoicing that evening at General Wood's headquarters over this splendid support given to America by her sister republics.

"It looks now as if we have a chance," said Brigadier General Robert K.

Evans. "The Germans will attack at daybreak and--by the way, what's the matter with our wireless reports?" He peered out into the night which was heavily overcast--not a star in sight. He was looking toward the radio station a mile back on the crest of a hill where the lone pine tree stood that supported the transmission wires.

"Looks like rain," decided the general. "h.e.l.lo! What's that?"

Plainly through purplish black clouds we caught the shrill buzz of swift-moving aeroplanes.

"Good lord!" cried Roy D. Chapin, chief inspector of aircraft. "The Germans! I know their engine sounds. Searchlights! Quick!"

Alas! Our searchlights proved useless against the thick haze that had now spread about us; they only revealed distant dim shapes that shot through the darkness and were gone.

"We must go after those fellows," muttered General Evans, and he detailed William Thaw, Norman Prince and Elliot Cowdin, veterans of many sky battles in France and Belgium, to go aloft and challenge the intruders.

This incident kept the camp in an uproar half the night. It turned out that the strange aeroplanes had indeed been sent out by the Germans, but for hours we did not discover what their mission was. They dropped no bombs, they made no effort to attack us, but simply circled around and around through the impenetrable night, accomplishing nothing, so far as we could see, except that they were incredibly clever in avoiding the pursuit of our airmen.

"They are flying at great speed," calculated A. F. Zahm, the aerodynamic expert of the Smithsonian Inst.i.tution, "but I don't see what their purpose is."

"I've got it," suddenly exclaimed John Hays Hammond, Jr. "They've sprung a new trick. Their machines carry powerful radio apparatus and they're cutting off our wireless."

"By wave interference?" asked Dr. Zahm.

"Of course. It's perfectly simple. I've done it at Gloucester." He turned to General Evans. "Now, sir, you see why we've had no wireless reports from our captive balloon."

This mention of the captive balloon brought to mind the peril of Payne Whitney, who was on lookout duty in the balloon near the German lines, and who might now be cut off by enemy aircraft, since he could not use his wireless to call for help. I can only state briefly that this danger was averted and Whitney's life saved by the courage and prompt action of Robert J. Collier and Larry Waterbury, who flew through the night to the rescue of their friend with a supporting air squadron and arrived just in time to fight off a band of German raiders.

I deeply regret that I must record these thrilling happenings in such bald and inadequate words and especially that my pen is quite unequal to describing that strangest of battles which I witnessed the next day from the heights back of Remington. Never was there a more thrilling sight than the advance of this splendid body of American and South American aeroplanes, flying by squadrons in long V's like flocks of huge birds, with a terrifying snarling of propellers. To right and left they manoeuvred, following wireless orders from headquarters that were executed by the various squadron commanders whose aeroplanes would break out bunting from time to time for particular signals.

So overwhelming was the force of American flyers, all armed with machine guns, that the Germans scarcely disputed the mastery of the air, and about seventy of their old-fashioned eagle type biplanes were soon destroyed. Our total losses here were only eleven machines, but these carried precious lives, some of our bravest and most skilful amateur airmen, Norman Cabot, Charles Jerome Edwards, Harold F. McCormick, James A. Blair, Jr., B. B. Lewis, Percy Pyne, 2nd, Eliot Cross, Roy D. Chapin, Logan A. Vilas and Bartlett Arkell.

I turned to my friend Hart O. Berg, the European aeroplane expert, and remarked that we seemed to be winning, but he said little, simply frowned through his binoculars.

"Don't you think so?" I persisted.

"Wait!" he answered. "There's something queer about this. Why should the Germans have such an inferior aircraft force? Where are all their wonderful Fokker machines?"

"You mean--"

"I mean that this battle isn't over yet. Ah! Look! We're getting our work in with that chlorine."

It was indeed true. With the control of the skies a.s.sured us, our fleet of liquid gas carriers had now gone into action and at many points we saw the heavy poison clouds spreading over the enemy hosts like a yellow green sea. The battle of chlorine had begun. The war of chemistry was raining down out of the skies. It is certain that nothing like this had ever been seen before. There had been chlorine fighting in the trenches out of squirt gun apparatus--plenty of that in 1915, with a few score killed or injured, but here it came down by tons over a whole army, this devilish stuff one breath of which deep into the lungs smote a man down as if dead.

The havoc thus wrought in the German ranks was terrific; especially as General Wood took advantage of the enemy's distress to sweep their lines with fierce artillery fire from his batteries on the heights.

"We've got them going," said I.