As they fell and exploded their flashes could be seen distinctly in
spite of the blaze all about them. Great tongues of flame licked
up heavenward as if trying to reach the aircraft that had hurled the
destruction down upon the seething hives. A dull boom told of an
explosion, and the air rocked with the disturbance.
Hundreds of pounds of high explosive fell on Essen that night. Great
fires started here and there, visible to the Americans long after
they had started for home, which they did as soon as their loads
of bombs were loosed on the factories and munition plants beneath.
Enemy planes had begun to climb up to engage the daring raiders, but
the triplanes were well away before the German fliers reached anything
like their altitude. Not one of the six bombers had been hit. Back
they flew, satisfied that damage had been wrought to the enemy plants,
back by the Rhine and the Moselle, back safely to their aviation base.
At last, ahead, the pilots could see the flares lit to guide their
return.
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