Conquerors of the Sky by Thomas Fleming Read Free Book Online Page B

clinking of glasses.
    Craig shook Frank awake at dawn. This was unusual. The day after a meet, they usually slept until noon. At the air field, they gassed up Rag Time and took off into a splendid sunrise. “We’re heading south!” Frank shouted, pointing to the Pacific, which was on their right.
    Craig nodded. “Mexico!” he shouted. “We’re going to war!”
    A civil war had been raging in Mexico for several years. In a half hour they were over the border, flying across a barren, rocky landscape. In another hour they landed in a field not far from a camp with a half-dozen tents and hundreds of horses tethered in rows on wires stretched between posts. Soldiers rushed up to them firing rifles and pistols in the air. The two Mexicans who had visited the hotel room appeared, smiling broadly. With them was a big-nosed sweaty man wearing a white sun helmet.
    â€œI have six bombs for you,” he said in a thick German accent. “The fuses are set to explode on contact. Do you understand?”
    â€œJawohl,” Craig said.
    The German examined Rag Time with great interest. “We have better in Germany,” he said.
    â€œYeah, but we’re in Mexico,” Craig said. “Where’s the money?”
    The Mexicans gave him a thick roll of bills. They loaded the six bombs, snub-nosed artillery shells, into the bomb basket along with one or two smoke bombs. Someone blew a bugle and the soldiers rushed to their horses. Craig studied a map supplied by the German, Frank spun the prop and they took off.
    At least, they tried to take off. Rag Time bounced down the field and Craig hauled back on the stick. They wobbled into the air and came back down with a shuddering crash. Cursing, Craig gave her full power and this time they got off the ground. But they were not climbing. They were heading straight for the face of a nearby ridge.
    â€œThrow out two of those goddamn bombs!” Craig shouted.
    The bombs created awesome explosions. Lighter by a hundred pounds, Rag Time cleared the ridge and zoomed down a road that wound behind it. The Mexican army galloped after them, shouting and firing their rifles in the air. Beyond another ridge lay a small valley with a town full of white-walled buildings at the end of it. Craig flew back and forth until the horsemen caught up to them. They formed up in a long line under the directions of the German. He waved a red flag and they charged. Rag Time roared ahead of them until they reached the outskirts of the town.
    â€œSmoke bombs!” Craig yelled.
    Frank hurled two bombs over the side, creating a billow of white smoke that drifted across the fronts of the houses. Below them, on the roofs of the houses, dozens of men were lying down aiming rifles at the charging horsemen. In one place three men crouched around a machine gun.

    Craig roared over the rooftops at two hundred feet. Some of the riflemen rolled onto their backs and began shooting at Rag Time. A bullet whined by Frank’s head. Another one snapped a wing strut. “Give ’em the first one, kid!” Craig bellowed.
    Frank hauled one of the shells out of the basket and held it over the edge of his seat. It had small fins wired to the side to guide it down. He let it go and it hit only a few feet from the men on one of the roofs. It exploded with a tremendous crash and the roof, the men, vanished. Through a swirl of smoke Frank saw nothing but a dark hole between shattered walls. A man crawled out of the house into the street. Frank realized he was crawling because one of his legs had been blown off below the knee. After a few feet he stopped and lay facedown while a stream of blood trickled from the stump into the gutter.
    â€œNice going, kid!” Craig shouted. “Get ready for another run.”
    Frank looked over his shoulder and saw the Mexican army was charging through the smoke, firing their rifles from horseback. The machine gun chattered, emptying a dozen