Ir was in the early spring of 1918 that I spent the last of my seven days' leave with an R.A.F. (Royal Air Force) friend of mine, behind a "quiet" sector of the French front. Major H- was in command of Escadrille No. -, he being on temporary detached service; and I, tiring of the little seaport town named on my leave order, had chosen to pay a brief visit to the major. At the same time, I thought, I should be able to pick up some practical points which might be of use to me in my capacity as assistant chief of ordnance at Production Center No. My work dealt with the installation and maintenance of machine-guns and other armament in fighting planes, so I looked forward with pleasure to this particular week-end.

I arrived by motor-car at B- on a Saturday afternoon, and with the aid of a small pocket-map, furnished me by our liaison officer, proceeded on foot along a road much torn by recent shell-fire. Finally, I reached the side road leading to

the aërodromes, and was soon seated with the major himself, in his small hut. It happened that he was the only Englishspeaking person with the Escadrille, he being a liaison officer between the French Air Forces, and the English farther north.

After a delicious dinner-for-two, we went for a short trip of inspection out to the take-off, stopping on the way to watch the French officers and men at their evening game of football. The major made me acquainted with several of the officers, and a fine-spirited group of pilots they seemed! At nightfall we again repaired to the hut and to bed. I expected on the morrow to be well rewarded for my visit, with such a well-groomed group of fields and aerodromes at my disposal.

At ten o'clock on the following morning the major voiced the very thoughts which were running through my brain, when he asked me if I would like to go up with him and try to get a Hun. Would I like-my word! And so we donned pilots' helmets, jumpers, and goggles, I

choosing mine from the major's abundant supply. Then we hustled out to the first hangar, where mechanics were already at work, tuning up some machines and sending others up to do their part in keeping the superiority of the air.

As a fitting ship for the leader of one of the leading escadrilles of France, the major had brought with him from Britain. a two-seater Bristol fighter, capable of attaining and maintaining a speed of 125 miles an hour. French mechanics understand very little about the Bristol fighter, with its English engine, so the major very carefully "went over" the engine and 'plane, testing each cable and the exposed part of the engine. Finally we were ready to be wheeled to the take-off.

The sky was comparatively clear, with only a white cloud here and there; there was hardly a breath of air stirring. Several Allied 'planes were hovering over in the eastern sky-I presumed above the artillery, some twenty miles distant. We had received no word or indication of any hostile machines being out past the lines. With a warning from the major, "Be careful," I climbed into the observer's cockpit and strapped myself in; the major babbled some instructions to the French sub-lieutenant; then he mounted. to his seat; and as we adjusted our headgear, the engine was started with a mighty roar. We shot onto the take-off, then into the blue, headed straight for Berlin. I at the trigger end of a Marlin "telescope" machine-gun, and the major behind two Lewis guns, fixed to fire through the propeller. And I was by no means a novice at the machine-gun, thanks to my training for the Ordnance Corps.

We had flown some twenty miles, when we felt the first puff of the Boche antiaircraft barrage. I looked over the side, and made out the intricate network of trenches, both of friend and enemy. Our altitude, which the altimeter showed to be 13,000 feet, gave us plenty of clearance above the gun-fire. "Anti" guns are used simply to keep off the low-flying observation, photographic, and bombarding 'planes, and any ships which are indiscreet

enough to fly on a fighting trip at an altitude lower than 6000 feet. The major evidently had a hunting-ground in mind, for we were still heading due east, as was indicated by the compass.

The advance and communication zones having been left behind, we glided to a level of 3000 feet. We passed over many unfortified towns. As we approached the Rhine districts, however, we spiraled up to 10,500 to steer clear of any "anti's" which the castled towns might harbor. In a few moments the blue ribbon of water had been passed, and we sought our former level of 3000. I looked for the major to begin a huge turn soon, and bring us back near the front, for I had seldom heard of a German aërodrome being located so far back of the lines.

Either the major had possessed a "hunch," or we were in good luck; for suddenly he pointed upward, and I made out what seemed to be an enemy group of ten or twelve 'planes at a height of perhaps 18,000 feet, some three miles above us. They were sailing toward us, but I was sure that, thanks to our cleverly camouflaged upper wing, they could pass by without sighting our ship. But the major did n't intend to let them pass without his first getting a closer view.

It was then that we made the first appreciable swerve in our line of flight, and we veered to the south, mounting the while. And yet the enemy "circus" held its course. As we neared the enemy on the "blind" (under) side, I saw that there were eleven ships in all, flying in an "A" formation. Ten were large Gothas, and the leader was a tiny triplane of the Fokker type. A bombing squadron, I surmised, or a convoy proceeding to the front. Here the major pointed forward at the small machine, and I took it that he meant, "We'll down the Fokker."

Of a sudden, the Fokker became aware of our presence and "enemy status," for he signaled the Gothas, with a few tilts of his machine, and dived to our level, leaving the others to grope along to their destination. It was as he passed us the first time, at a safe distance, that I saw the peculiar

design of the R- "circus" on his fuselage, and I felt that we had found an adversary of no mean experience. However, we had gun superiority, for he had but two fixed rapid-firers, and carried no ob

server.

Then the major "Immelman turned" to a more favorable position, and I took the first shot at the enemy birdman. Before I could see the effect, we had turned, and I waited for the major to get a try with his fixed guns. Rapidly we twisted and turned for a position, but each time the Hun guessed our move and played his waiting game, taking a shot now and then, at one fusillade cutting a chunk out of our lower wing. Then it "happened"! The major darted in, and at fifty yards let go with a stream of lead, and in passing I fired the remainder of my clip.

Now we saw that the Hun had ceased manoeuvring and was making a gradual glide. We followed some distance behind, running nearer when we "sensed" that he had "turned tail." Finally we pulled up alongside his 'plane. The motor was coasting and the pilot was sitting upright, seeming yet to steer the ship in its glide. The major ran in to about forty feet, and then we saw that the pilot was dead, and that his wireless helmet had caught in the overhead oil-feed as he was thrown forward. So the hand on the "joy-stick" was not yet relinquished.

We fell back some 400 yards to watch the progress of the enemy 'plane, guided by a dead pilot. His machine gained momentum in its downward flight, and soon reached the 5000 level as we again drew near to the Rhine, We were now evidently but a few miles south of Karlsruhe, and the runaway ship was headed in a direct line for a small village, probably Neuenburg or Herrenalb. Our map showed them to be unfortified. Thus we were safe to watch the result of the wild flight. And sure enough, the Fokker held its course straight for the center of the town. At 500 feet, we were about 300 yards above and behind the Boche. Suddenly the major switched on the motor, and we climbed in a huge spiral to 850. Then I glanced

over the side and saw the Fokker crash into the town square, which was thronged with women, and children coming from the church on the plaza. Death had turned the enemy against his own people, and had not spared the innocent.

After this ghastly incident, the major tested our supply of petrol, and found that in our haste to watch the Fokker go to its doom, we had given no consideration to our fuel. As we had been in the air for a little over an hour, it was evident that we would have to make a forced landing in the territory of the enemy; and so the major spiraled to a position away from the fortified Rhenish towns, and we began to look for a place to land. At 600 feet we went into a glide to conserve fuel. We landed in a wheat-field about three miles from the nearest village. There were no peasants about, so we felt safe from capture for the time being. The major was on the point of attaching to the wing of our fighter the little charge of high explosive which all 'planes carry to use in case capture is inevitable. Then suddenly we heard the loud exhaust of a motor vehicle, which was evidently speeding down the road near by, and we both set feverishly to work at the time-fuse of the explosive. The Germans were no doubt coming after us, and it was against our policy to let them have the ship if we could prevent it. Then a motor-cycle, driven by a stout soldier in field gray, came into sight and turned into the field. He came to a stop, and, leaving his engine running, dismounted and started toward us on the run. The major, in his haste, fouled the wires of the time-fuse, and we turned to meet the new-comer, at the same time jerking our 45's from their holsters, and covering the man. He was about a hundred feet away when I fired.

He stopped, apparently unhit, and put his hands above his head, at the same time shouting in good English: "Don't shoot! I'm an American!"

"Then, what in blazes are you doing in that uniform?" I flung back.

"I am an infantry officer of the th, and was captured with a raiding party