d the war
cross. The same report told of a 150 mile raid into Germany with eight
other French Machines--when a patrol of twelve German planes were
attacked and three of them sent down in flames, while all the nine
French machines returned safely.

The following are a few of Lehr's later letters from the front:

FLYING AT THE FRONT

Sector----at the Front, Oct. 12, 1917.--It's blowing terrifically,
wind and rain. You can't imagine how I picture you people at home, warm,
happy and safe. I've been out here a week now. Three days of it has been
flying weather. Up 25,000 feet and ten miles into Germany is my record
so far and I've actually had one combat with a boche. He was below me,
at first, far in the distance. I was supposed to be protecting a bombing
expedition of ten machines. I saw this spot, started away from the rest
and through excitement, anticipation and the goodness knows what, I
climbed, went faster and faster until I had the sun between us and the
German below me. Then I dived; he heard me and "banked"; we both looped
and then came head on, firing incessantly.

My machine gun was empty and the boche had more, for he got in behind
me and "Putt! Putt! Putt!" past my ear he came, so I dove, went into a
"vrille" with him on top, came out and squared off, and he let me have
it again. All I could do was to maneuver, for I had no shells left and
I did not want to beat it, so I stuck. We both came head on again and
I said a little prayer, but the next time I looked Mr. Boche was going
home. I "peaked" straight down, made my escadrille, accompanied them
home and when I got out of my furs I was wringing wet in spite of the
fact it was cold as ice where I had done my fighting.

CONSIDERS HIS OWN TACTICS

I looked my machine over and found five holes in it, but nothing
serious. Tomorrow is going to be bad and no one will fly unless they
call for volunteers, and then I think most of us will go. I'd like to
figure out what I did wrong. First of all, I was so excited that I fired
all my shots at the German and he maneuvered out of my way and then came
at me as I was helpless. My captain gave me "harkey" for staying when
out of bullets, so I guess the rest was O.K., but I'd hate to run from
any boche.

MEN DIE IN FAULTY PLANES

The machine I've been flying has been condemned, so I expect to be sent
back to get another one, a brand new one that has never been on the
front. Twenty-five pilots in the last month have b