We have the honour of being attached to a bombardment squadron that is the most famous in the French Army. The captain of the unit once lost his whole escadrille, and on the last trip eight lost their lives. It was a wonderful fight. The squadron was attacked by thirty-three Boches. Two French planes crashed to earth--then two German; another German was set on fire and streaked down, followed by a streaming column of smoke. Another Frenchman fell; another German; and then a French lieutenant, mortally wounded and realizing that he was dying, plunged his airplane into a German below him and both fell to earth like stones.
The tours of Alsace and the Vosges that we have made, to look over possible landing places, were wonderful. I've never seen such ravishing sights, and in regarding the beauty of the country I have missed noting the landing places. The valleys are marvellous. On each side the mountain slopes are a solid mass of giant pines and down these avenues of green tumble myriads of glittering cascades which form into sparkling streams beneath. It is a pleasant feeling to go into Alsace and realize that one is touring over country we have taken from the Germans. It's a treat to go by auto that way. In the air, you know, one feels detached from all below. It's a different world, that has no particular meaning, and besides, it all looks flat and of a weary pattern.
THE FIRST TRIP
Well, I've made my first trip over the lines and proved a few things to myself. First, I can stand high altitudes. I had never been higher than 7,000 feet before, nor had I flown more than an hour. On my trip to Germany I went to 14,000 feet and was in the air for two hours. I wore the fur head-to-foot combination they give one and paper gloves under the fur ones you sent me. I was not cold. In a way it seemed amusing to be going out knowing as little as I do. My mitrailleuse had been mounted the night before. I had never fired it, nor did I know the country at all even though I'd motored along our lines. I followed the others or I surely should have been lost. I shall have to make special trips to study the land and be able to make it out from my map which I carry on board. For one thing the weather was hazy and clouds obscured the view.
We left en escadrille, at 30-second intervals, at 6:30 A.M. I'd been on guard since three, waiting for an enemy plane. I climbed to 3,500 feet in four minutes and so started off higher than the rest. I lost them immediately but took a compass course in the direction we were headed. Clouds were below me and I could see the earth only in spots. Ahead was a great barrier of clouds and fog. It seemed like a limitless ocean. To the south the Alps jutted up through the clouds and glistened like icebergs in the morning sun. I began to feel completely lost. I was at 7,000 feet and that was all I knew. Suddenly I saw a little black speck pop out of a cloud to my left--then two others. They were our machines and from then on I never let them get out of my sight. I went to 14,000 in order to be able to keep them well in view below me. We went over Belfort which I recognized, and, turning, went toward the lines. The clouds had dispersed by this time. Alsace was below us and in the distance I could see the straight course of the Rhine. It looked very small. I looked down and saw the trenches and when I next looked for our machines I saw clusters of smoke puffs. We were being fired at. One machine just under me seemed to be in the centre of a lot of shrapnel. The puffs were white, or black, or green, depending on the size of the shell used. It struck me as more amusing than anything else to watch the explosions and smoke. I thought of what a lot of money we were making the Germans spend. It is not often that they hit. The day before one of our machines had a part of the tail shot away and the propeller nicked, but that's just bum luck. Two shells went off just at my height and in a way that led me to think that the third one would get me; but it didn't. It's hard even for the aviator to tell how far off they are. We went over Mulhouse and to the north. Then we sailed south and turned over the lines on the way home. I was very tired after the flight but it was because I was not used to it and it was a strain on me keeping a look-out for the others.
AT VERDUN
To-day the army moving picture outfit took pictures of us. We had a big show. Thirty bombardment planes went off like clock-work and we followed. We circled and swooped down by the camera. We were taken in groups, then individually, in flying togs, and God knows what-all. They will be shown in the States.
If you happen to see them you will recognize my machine by the MAC, painted on the side.
Seems quite an important thing to have one's own airplane with two mechanics to take care of it, to help one dress for flights, and to obey orders. A pilot of no matter what grade is like an officer in any other arm.
We didn't see any Boche planes on our trip. We were too many. The only way to do is to sneak up on them.