In undertaking such a mission as this, that is, in being so far behind the lines without protection, I fully realized the utter futility of trying to concentrate my attention on the sky in search of enemy planes and at the same time do justice to the importance of the mission which would require practically constant attention to the ground. I quite well know that if we were caught so far back we would have no possible chance to get away with our lives, so, in my mind, it was of no importance to watch the sky. My watching the heavens would not help us from being seen, but at the same time, as we were carried along, I was also carried off with a multitude and variety of thoughts. About the biggest question I was attempting to solve was just how long I would last after a German patrol started after me. Then, I figured myself falling in flames. It is strange the many thoughts that will play upon one’s mind in similar circumstances. The sudden pangs of regret that you ever left the airdrome and even more sincere sorrow that you ever got into the Air Service; the wondering what the boys in the Squadron are doing, and how the folks back home are, and whether you will ever see them again, and what the preacher in the village church will say at your memorial services and whether the Commander of the Army will write your mother a nice letter of condolence and whether the girl who jolted you will be sorry; and you wonder what you would finally have turned out to be if you had not been killed, and other such trivial, little things; and the fact that you had wished you had burned all your letters before you left and a lot of little things you should have attended to before—for instance, on that flight I remembered that I was directed to call up the Corps Artillery Squadron and relieve them from two flights during that day. I brooded over the thought that if that Squadron went on with those flights and one of the flyers got killed how sorry I would be—how sorry I was that I had not attended to that before going out on this fool trip myself.

I was certainly thankful that I had $10,000 worth of Government life insurance and was wondering how my mother would get along on $57.50 per month for twenty years, and I wished I had taken out $20,000 worth in private life insurance instead of spending two hundred dollars last month in Paris. All these more serious thoughts were going through my mind, having practically no one dependent upon me and with only the expendable rank of First Lieutenant upon my shoulders, and then I thought of poor, old Brereton with a wife and two children, and a Major’s responsibility. Very shortly before this, Major Brown, in command of the 96th Squadron, had gotten lost in Germany and had landed with five other American planes and their crews, and this matter had occasioned unfavorable remarks as to his judgment. None of Brereton’s friends would ever be able to explain why, in his responsible position, he ever even started out on such a hazardous mission as this.

Well, I came to the conclusion that one has two brains—one constructive and the other retrospective, for actually while I was thinking all of those things I was at the same time intently watching the ground and carefully noting the location of all my information.

That trip, from a standpoint of a war panorama, was a sight-seeing tour of wonder. Imagine the solid and continuous barrage of thousands and thousands of shells bursting in a line for miles and miles, the barking cannons on each side, like so many ferocious dogs spitting fire, roads filled with on-marching troops, coming up in formation from both sides, walking as it were, into that veritable valley of death and destruction; the air filled with hostile planes and our whole safety depending upon the supposition of being alone and so far behind the lines that the Germans would not realize the presence of an enemy plane.

We must have seen between a total of seventy-five and one hundred German airplanes during the entire flight, for do not think that we kept our eyes glued to the ground all the time; at least I did not; and in one place we were so near a Boche airdrome that we saw the German planes on the field milling around about ready to buzz up after us. Yet even at such a low altitude we were only fired at once or twice by machine guns from the ground. At the front the machine guns were busy firing forward and in the rear there did not seem to be any available.

Our mission had been a long one and one of the few in which the crew can use their own judgment. So, when he circled over La Ferte, the Headquarters of the Corps, and dropped our message, we had not only stated the facts as we had seen them, but also our conclusions, taking the whole aspect as it presented itself.

When we got back to the field Brereton circled the field twice before he could land. He was considerably discomposed—personally, I was the living Wreck of the Hesperus. Brereton’s car was waiting and we rushed up to headquarters. The boys on the field were still ignorant as to where we had been and what we had done. Neither Brereton nor I said very much about the mission for we didn’t know whether we would be condemned for undertaking it or congratulated upon its successful completion. Of course, the line units around Corps Headquarters did not realize exactly the importance of such an undertaking, although I admit that Lieutenant Colonel Williams, whom we affectionately called “Houdini,” and who was in charge of G-2 Information Group, stated that night, at the nine o’clock conference, that it was good dope and whoever got it, he certainly wanted to congratulate them. Brereton kept closed like a clam, while the position of my mouth was not unlike an oyster. However, when the French Air Service Commander, Commandant Gerard, heard of it, and he knew of it almost immediately, he came right over and offered his congratulations and was very profuse in his praise. Then we began to think we had really done something. The French told General Mitchell about it and he came right up to Headquarters and patted me on the back. Brereton was out, but when General Mitchell did that I knew we had done something.

In a very short time came the famous order of the great French officer who commanded our Army—General De Gouttes. It was as follows:

SECRET

VIth Army       24 July 21h 50.