“Having regard to the gravity of the situation, we must proceed without further delay with the evacuation of women and children. Our Government will therefore place at their disposal a steamer prepared for the reception of 600 passengers, in order to convey them to Tientsin this day, Friday morning. It is urged that all who do not wish to stay here should take advantage of this opportunity, as well as of the trains, which are still running on the Shantung line.

“Kiao-Chow clears for action!”

We now knew exactly where we were. We had no illusions either as to the bitterness or the outcome of the coming fight. But never was work done in a higher or more indefatigable spirit. A titanic task was completed in these weeks. And, from the oldest officer to the youngest fifteen-year-old volunteer motorist, one and all combined in placing their knowledge, their ability, and endeavour at the service of their love for their country, in order to put Kiao-Chow in a state of defence.

I had experienced particularly bad luck. Three days after Müllerskowski’s fall I rose in wonderful sunshine to my first important reconnaissance, and returned in a happy frame of mind to Kiao-Chow, after having explored the whole Protectorate for hundreds of miles.

I was at an altitude of 1500 metres, and in consequence of the atmospheric conditions the landing was a particularly difficult one. When I was about 100 metres over the place, and putting on full engine, with the object of flying round once more and landing to back, the engine started knocking and then stopped altogether. I only took a second to examine my altimeter, but it was sufficient to ascertain that the machine was no longer capable of landing on the aerodrome.

But I could veer neither to the right nor to the left. On the right hand there was the Polo Club and a deep ditch, on the left the hotel and villas.

I knew there was nothing more to be done, but I thought only of one thing: to keep the engine from harm.

In front of me lay a small wood, and I hoped to be able to negotiate it. I pulled at the altitude lever, but in the hot, thin air of the tropics the machine sagged heavily. I just managed to keep my head clear of the telegraph poles, then drew up my knees, pressed my feet unconsciously forward, and suddenly I felt a mighty shock, heard cracking and splintering noises, and collided heavily with the tank, after which all was silent. But when I looked around me, having miraculously escaped unhurt, I perceived my Taube with its nose in the ditch, its little tail high up in the air, and its wings and under-carriage forming a confused mass of broken wood, wires and canvas.

Oh, my poor little Taube! Would it had not happened exactly on the third day of the mobilization! I felt quite hopeless. Yet, without entirely losing courage, I carried the debris to the hangar. Luckily I had received some reserve propellers and planes from home.

My only hope was that the motor had escaped! I did not possess any spares, and it would have been impossible to procure them. I made my way towards the boxes in which the spares were kept, and first opened those which contained the planes. But, oh, horrors! A foul smell of decay was wafted into our faces, and, fearing the worst, we prised open the inner zinc lining.