Flying for France: With the American Escadrille at Verdun

iation field, others loiter awaiting their a?rial charge's return from the sky. Near the hangar stands a hut-shaped tent.

are the only warlike note in a pleasantly peaceful scene. The war seems very remote. It is hard to believe that the greatest of all battles--Verdun--

t the blue, high overhead. The sound of the motor ceases, and the speck grows larger. It moves earthward in steep dives and circles, and as it swoops closer, takes on the sha

mechanician cries to anot

round with tail and wheels. It bumps along a score of yards and then, its motor whirring again, turns, rolls toward the hangar, and stops. A human form, enveloped in a species of garment

antonment near the field, straggle forward and gather timidly about th

man, as he starts divesting

inquires one of the

ller on a Boche this morning, point blank at not fifteen metres off. His machine gun quit firing and his propeller wasn't turning and yet the darn fool just

in a French uniform speaking a foreign tongue, they mutually ask themselves. Finally one of them, a little chap in a uniform long since bleached

y old one," the latter explain

he war--to their station near Bar-le-Duc, twenty-five miles south of Verdun, from a flight over the battle front of the Meuse. They have barely had time to digest this knowledge when other dots appear in the sky, and

OF THE E

anywhere envisaged the possibility of an American entering the French aviation service. Yet, by the fall of 1915, scarcely more than a year later, there were six Americans serving

reign Legion in August, 1914. With considerable difficulty he had himself transferred, in the early part of 1915, into aviation, and the autumn of that year found him piloting a Caudron biplane, and doing excellent observation work. At th

front of becoming the first American to fall into the hands of the enemy. Going to the assistance of a companion who had broken down in landing a spy in the German lines, Bach smashed his machine against a tree. Both he and his French comrade were captured, and Bach was twice court-martialed by the Germans on suspicion of being an American franc-tireur--the penalty for which is death! He was acquitted but of cour

losives on to German military centres from a slow-moving Voisin which was his first mount. Upon the heels of Lufbery came two more graduates of the Foreign Legion--Kiffin Rockwell, of Asheville, N.C., who had been wounded at Carency; Victor Chapman, of New York, who after recovering from his wounds be

s young Americans were attracted by it in rapidly increasing numbers. Many of them, of course, never got fascinated beyond the stage of talking about joining. Among the chaps serving with the American ambulance field sections a good

, but they were all tired of being non-combatant spectators. More or less the same feeling actuated me, I suppose. I had come over from Carthage, N.C., in January, 1915, and worked with an American ambulance section in the Bois-le-Prêtre. All along I had been convinced that the United States ought

ts, sign one's name to a few hundred papers, and undergo the physical examinations. Then I was sent to the aviation depot at Dijon and fitted out with a uniform and personal equipment. The next stop was th

e dozen airplanes in one escadrille. Every day somebody "had it absolutely straight" that we were to become a unit at the front, and every other day the report turned out to be untrue. But at last, in the month of February, our dream

OF FRENCH

sse or airplanes of pursuit, which are used to hunt down enemy aircraft or to fight them off; avions de bombardement, big, unwieldy monsters for use in bombarding raids; and avions de réglage, cumbersome creatures designed to regulate artillery fire, take photographs, and do scout duty. The Nieuport is the smallest, fastest-rising, fastest-moving bip

ho are Flyi

to be sent to the Verdun front. While there Cowdin was credited with having brought down a German machine and was p

an aviator is ordered to the reserve headquarters near Paris to await his call. Kiffin Rockwell and Victor Chapman had been there for mo

rative bureaux unfurled, with such headlong haste. In a few hours we were aboard the train, panting, but happy. Our party consisted of Sergeant Prince

d. Of course Rockwell and Chapman had seen plenty of warfare on the ground, but warfare in the air was as novel to them as to me. For us all it contained unlimited possibilities for initiative an

f for the races

IFE AT

tter what his grade. Save when he is flying or on guard, his time is his own. There are no roll calls or other military frills, and in place of the bunk he slept upon as an élève, he finds a regular bed in a room to himself, and the services of an orderly. Even men of higher rank who alt

No. 124, by the way--and motored to the aviation field in one of the staff cars assigned to us. I enjoyed that ride. Lolling bac

nts. And the men attached to the escadrille! At first sight they seemed to outnumber the Nicaraguan army--mechanicians, chauffeurs, armourers, motorcyclists, telephonists, wire

nicians for the mere satisfaction of being able to. To find oneself the sole proprietor of a fighting airplane is quite a treat,

hemselves. We messed with our officers, Captain Thénault and Lieutenant de Laage de Mieux, at the best hotel in town. An aut

the Luxeuil bombardment group. The doughty bomb-dispenser, upon whose head the Germans have set a price,

st trip," he explained, and he added: "It's a good thing you're here to g

and motor cars, and then I recalled the ancient custom of giving a man

its charm would be lost when we surveyed it from the sky. From the air the ground presents no scenic effects. The ravishing beauty of the Val d'Ajol, the steep mountain sides bristling with a solid mass of giant pines, the myriads of glittering ca

, too, the new pilots needed a taste of anti-aircraft artillery to familiarize them with the business of aviati

RILLE'S F

when one is above them, I began climbing as rapidly as possible, meaning to trail along in the wake of my companions. Unless one has had practice in flying in formation, however, it is hard to keep in contact. The diminutive avions de chasse are the merest pinpoints against the great sweep of landscape below and the limitless heavens above. The air was misty and clouds were gathering. Ahe

bergs. Not a single plane was visible anywhere, and I was growing very uncertain about my position. My splendid isolat

ching eastward to the Rhine. It was distinctly pleasurable, flying over this conquered land. Following the course of the canal that runs to

HAT COULDN

similar balls began to dot the sky above, below, and on all sides of us. We were being shot at with shrapnel. It was interesting to watch the flash of the bursting shells, and the attendant smok

s of brown smoke as shells burst in the trenches. One could scarcely pick out the old city of Thann from among the numerous neighbouring villages, so tiny it seemed in the valley's mouth. I had never been higher than 7,000 feet and was unaccustomed to reading country from a great altitude. It was also bitterly cold, and even in my fur-lined combination I was shivering. I noticed,

to within thirty yards, he pressed on the release of his machine gun, and saw the enemy gunner fall backward and the pilot crumple up sideways in his seat. The plane flopped downward and crashed to earth just behind the German trenches. Swooping close to the ground Rockwell saw its débris burning away brightly. He had turne

ght before our departure some German aircraft destroyed four of our tractors and killed six men with bombs, but even that caused little excitement compared wit

TO V

us to our new post in a little more than an hour. We stowed them away in the hangars and went to have a look at our sleeping quarters. A commo

could sense one's proximity to a vast military operation. The endless convoys of motor trucks, the fast-flowing str

other fighting units, each of which has its specified flying hours, rotating so there is always an escadrille de chasse

er them Masson and Pavelka. Nieuports were supplied them from the nearest depot, and as soon as they had mounted their instruments and machine guns, they were on th

S IN T

kker in the morning, and on the afternoon of the same day there was a big combat far behind the German trenches. Thaw was wounded in the arm, and an explosive bullet detonating on Rockwell's wind-shield tore several gashes in his face. Despite the blood which was blinding him Rockwell managed to reach an aviation field

a sieve of patched-up bullet holes. His nerve was almost superhuman and his devotion to the cause for which he fought sublime. The day he was wounded he attacked four machines. Swooping down from behind, one of them, a Fokker, riddled Chapman's plane. One bullet cut deep into his scalp, but Chapman, a master pilot, escaped from the trap, and fired several shots to show he wa

sought the safest way out by attacking the enemy machines nearest the French lines. Rockwell, Prince, and the captain broke through successfully, but Balsley found himself hemmed in. He attacked the German nearest him, only to receive an explosive bullet in his thigh. In trying to get away by a vertical di

. He bore up bravely, and became the favourite of the wounded officers in whose ward he lay. When we flew over to see him they would say: Il est un brave petit gars, l'aviateur américain, [He's a brave little fellow,

oix de Guerre, but the honours scared him. He had see

N'S LA

airmen at once. He sent one tumbling to earth, and had forced the others off when two more swooped down upon him. Such a fight is a matter of seconds, and one cannot clearly see what passes. Lufbery and Prince, whom Chapman had defended so gallantly, regained the French lines. They told us of the combat, and we waited on the field for Chapman's re

as not an irreparable loss to us merely, but to France, and to the world as well. I kept thinking of him lying over there, and of the oranges he was taking to Balsley. As I left th

NS AND D

as a second lieutenant in the militia at home. The next impressive event was the awarding of decorations. We had assisted at that ceremony for Cowdin at Luxeuil, but this time three of our messmates were to be honoured for the Germans they had brought down. Rockwell and Hall re

r Victor, who so often had been cited in the Ord

RNING

't raining, and the clouds aren't too low--we fly over the Verdun battlefield at the hours dicta

rbled by a particularly wide-awake pilot in the next room. A few minutes later, having swallowed some coffee, we motor to the field. The east is turning gray as the hangar curtains are drawn apart and our machines trundled out by the mechanicians.

h to fly. We don our fur-lined shoes and combinations and adjust the leather flying hoods and go

some Boche just ruins you this morning, so I won't have

reference conce

see you landed by the Boches. You'd make a fine sight walking down the street of some German town in those w

the part of one of our col

NG UN

restored, only to be broken by a series of rapid explosions incidental to the trying o

res--go ahead!" come

our mechanician, adjusting your gasolene and

and take the air. The ground drops as the hood slants up before you and you seem to be going more and more slowly as you rise. At a great height you hardly realize you are moving. You glan

f the America

You begin climbing again, gulping to clear your ears in the changing pressure. Surveying the other machines, you recognize the pilot of each by the marks on its side--or by the way he flies. The distinguishing marks of the Nieuports are various and sometimes amusing.

a table; fields are geometrical designs of different shades of green and brown, forming in composite an ultra-cubist painting; roads are thin wh

balloons far below you. Red-roofed Verdun springs into view just beyond. There are spots in it where no red shows and you know what

SEEN FRO

e is only that sinister brown belt, a strip of murdered Nature. It seems to belong to another world. Every sign of humanity has been swept away. The woods and roads have vanished like chalk wiped from a blackboard; of the villages nothing remains but gray smears where stone walls have tumbled together. The great forts of Douaumont and Vaux a

of smoke remind one of Gustave Doré's picture of the fiery tombs of the arch-heretics in Dante's "Hell." A smoky pall covers the sector under fire, rising so high that at a height of 1,000 feet o

OF BATTLE

brown belt myriads of tiny flashes tell where the guns are hidden; and those flashes, and the smoke of bursting shells,

less reports of the engagement. Only through them can communication be maintained when, under the barrier fire, wires from the front lines are cut. Sometimes it falls to our lot

G" IN A SE

en in the observation, artillery-regulating, and bombardment machines, but the fighting aviator has an entirely different sphere. His domain is the blue heavens, the g

n the navy instead of aviation. The diminutive Nieuports skirt the white expanse like torpedo boats in an

close, one shifts position slightly to evade the range. One glances up to see if there is another machine higher than one's own. Low and far within the German lines are several enemy planes, a dull white in appearance, resembling sand flies against the mottled earth. High above them one glimpses the mosquito-like forms of two Fokkers. Aw

OF AN AI

angle so steep your feet seem to be holding you back in your seat. Now the black Maltese crosses on the German's wings stand out clearly. You think of him as some sort of big bug. Then you hear the rapid tut-tut-tut of his machine gu

ere the pilot ought to be--there are two men aboard the German craft--and press on the release hard. Your mitrailleuse hammers out a stream of bullets as you pass over and dive, nose down, to get out of range. Then, hop

t down only one. Hall, with three machines to his credit, has had more luck. Lufbery, who evidently has evolved a secret formula, has dropped four, according to official statistics, since his arrival on the Verdun front. Four "palms"--the recor

n, for he followed all that took place from a balcony seat. I myself was in the "nigger-heaven," so I know. We had set out on a sortie together just before noon, one August day, and for the first time on such an occasion had lost each other over the lines. See

line of vision and a wood, into which it disappeared. Just as I was going down to find out where it landed, I saw it again skimming across a field, and heading straight for the brown band beneath me. It was outlined against the shell-racked ear

my return homeward. After getting back I learned that Lufbery was quite safe, having hurried in after the fight to report the destruction of his adversary before somebody else claimed him, which is only too

erman. He said he thought the German pilot must be a novice, judging from his manoeuvres. It occurred to me that he might have been making his first flight over the lines, doubtles

ie, we usually go into the rest tent, and talk over the morning's work. Then some of us lie down for a nap, while others play cards or read. After luncheon we go to the field again, and the man on guard gets his chance to eat. If the morning sortie has been an early one, we go up again about one o'clock in the afternoon. We are home ag

A?RIAL

ted on his Nieuport for setting fire to the a?rial frankfurters. Thus equipped he resembled an advance agent for Payne's fireworks more than an aviateur de chasse. Having carefully mapped the enemy "sausages," he would sally forth in ho

orks with all the gusto of an American boy on the Fourth of July. When he looked again, the balloon had vanished. Prince's performance isn't so easy as it sounds,

English. It's seldom we discuss the war in general. Mostly the conversation revolves about our own sphere, for just as in the navy the sea is the favourite topic, and in the army the trenches, so with us it is aviation. Our knowle

touch with the a?rial news of the day, and with our friends along the front. Gradually we have come to know a great number of pilote

lecture is weak and watery compared to the travel stories we listen to. Were O. Henry alive, he could find material for a hundred new yarns, and William James numerous pointers for another work on psychology

sedate spirits wrap themselves in the intricacies of chess. Captain Thénault labours away at the messroom piano, or in lighter mood plays with Fram, his police dog. A phonograph

re. Only on such intimate occasions, I think, have I ever heard death discussed. Certainly

do what I like. In that time I'd get everything I wanted out

rancs from the American committee that aids us

, "but now with this money coming in I don't wa

yawned and w