The German attacks upon the French position on the Mort-Homme were still in progress. I had never before seen a battle, and to see such an important conflict from "the gallery" seemed most strange. It looked more like a pan of boiling water, with the steam hanging in a pall over it, than anything else I can think of. In fact, a yellow mist rose to a great height and almost obscured the view. Tiny flashes showed where the guns were concealed, but to us the battle was a silent one. The noise of our motor drowned the whistling of the shells and the roar of the bombardment. I could not help thinking how much some of those poor fellows below us would appreciate a little of this silence.
We could plainly see the network of the trenches, broken and half-obliterated in the mud. In some places they were so close together that it was difficult to make out where the French lines ended and the German earthworks began. The ground was speckled with "pock-marks" caused by shell explosions, and altogether it was a weird scene of desolation. All signs of nature which had once beautified this region had vanished. The forests and the green fields had disappeared. Ruined villages lay like piles of disused stone among the circular "entonnoirs," or shell-holes. In color it was all a dirty brown.
A view of the Mort-Homme taken from a height of 3,600 feet.
These are two photographs pasted together.
Exact maps of the front are made in this manner daily
by the photographic sections.
On every side of us were the French artillery biplanes. They were hovering over the German lines like gulls, continually wirelessing back the ranges to their batteries. High above us circled the little Nieuports on guard, to protect us and to prevent the Fokkers and aviatiks from crossing over our lines. Everywhere were little white puffs, which seemed to follow the machines about. I watched them, strangely fascinated and amused, until my pilot informed me that these were caused by exploding shrapnel from the enemy's anti-aircraft guns. Then I noticed with uneasiness that the same puffs were also following us. My interest in the little white puffs from that moment assumed quite another character. I listened for the sharp crack of their explosions, but all I could hear was a dull "whung." The thought that very few machines are really brought down by shrapnel was a bit reassuring, but I must admit that when the enemy is sending them on all sides of you, you do not feel like giving much credence to what others may have told you.
Presently my attention was called to the lines of German captive balloons, which are moored some miles behind their first-line trenches. Several aeroplanes stood guard over them, and as we knew that they were armed and that we on this occasion were not we decided to turn back.
I made several of these trips over the different positions on our immediate front. By the time my own machine arrived I was thoroughly familiar with the sector and also with the main dangers to be encountered by aviators over the battle lines. The first precaution I learned was—always, when landing, to unhook the belt that held me in my seat. This is one of the most important things to remember at the front. The fields are not always in the best condition, and the slightest obstruction may cause an unexpected crash. If you are in an artillery pusher-machine when this happens you are invariably crushed under the motor, unless your belt is unfastened, when you are usually thrown clear.
"Everywhere little white puffs seemed to follow the machines about."
Another danger, which I would never have thought of if an experienced pilot had not pointed it out, lies in the cables mooring the captive balloons. These are invisible to an approaching aviator and to collide with one means a fatal smash. When flying low enough to pass under the "saucisses," aviators must watch out for these "tethers." Nevertheless, you can always take advantage of one of their peculiarities. The cable always stretches to windward, and in a good breeze it stretches far. By keeping well to leeward you can always rest reasonably assured that you are on the safe side. Many aviators, however, have met with fatal accidents, through fouling these cables. I know of only one instance where the pilot did escape unhurt after striking the wire. It seems that the moment he saw what was going to happen he put his machine into a vertical bank, so that when the impact came he was turning about the cable. Then, strangely enough, by continuing his spiral he was able finally to disengage himself and escape.