With only a finger and thumb to manipulate his machine, he managed to effect a landing. The moment earth was struck the firing ceased, and the Germans landing from their machines approached him and treated him courteously.
There is a spirit of chivalry among those who fight in the air, as both sides can testify. The air alone is their arena, and neither side will continue a combat on terra firma.
On my right was Lieutenant Rogan of the Royal Irish Regiment, a sturdy fellow, who had been in the Guards.
He was attacking some Germans, who were putting up a stout resistance during the fight for Guinchy; and as he was rushing forward, a German threw a hand-grenade, which exploded in his face. His right eye was removed at St. Quentin, and he was slowly recovering the sight of the left.
In the bed next to his was another young officer of the Royal Flying Corps, a boy about eighteen, very small, and only weighing about eight stone. Mabbitt was his name, Second Lieutenant Mabbitt; and he, too, had fought many thousand feet in the air against desperate odds, fracturing his leg in the fall.
German airmen seem to make a practice of waiting until a single English aeroplane appears in sight; then they ascend in a flight of five to attack, and woe betide the English airman who happens to be soaring above in a slow machine.
Deeds of pluck are common on land and sea; but the heroic combats in the air are a new sensation, with unknown terrors realised in a single gasp; and the youth of our country defy it. Yet, who is there to tell their deeds if they fall?
Shortly after I arrived two British officers were brought in, Lieutenant Wishart of the Canadians, who had a bullet wound through his leg; and Second Lieutenant Parker, who had a hole in his leg as big as an apple, and who spent most of the day in declaring that he was as fit as a fiddle.
But the occupant of the remaining bed was one who endeared himself to the hearts of all. He was Saniez (pronounced Sanyea), our orderly. But Saniez must have a chapter to himself.