ire, but soon
began to climb to higher altitudes until, at the time of my departure,
most of their work was done from a height of about twelve thousand
feet.

There was one of our planes, piloted by a major. I never heard his
name but he was known all up and down the line as "The Mad Major." He
was a pioneer in all the marvelous evolutions which now form an
important part of the airman's training. Side slips, spinning dives,
tail slides; all were alike to him. He would go over the enemy lines
and circle about, directing the fire of a battery, scorning to notice
the fire of the "Archies," (flyers' name for anti-aircraft guns) and
when that job was finished, would come home in a series of
somersaults, loops and spins which made one dizzy to watch. He was a
great joker and frequently, when the shell-bursts were unusually thick
around him, would come tumbling down from the sky like a shot pigeon,
only to recover at a height of several hundred feet and shoot off in a
bee line for the air dome. I've no doubt that the enemy often thought
they had "got him," but at last reports he was still there.

I watched the planes for months without seeing one hit and had about
concluded that, to make an Irish bull, the only safe place on earth
was up in the air, when, one morning, hearing the now familiar
"put-put-put" of machine guns up above, we looked up to see one of our
large observing biplanes engaged with a very small but fast enemy
plane. The boche had all the best of it and soon our plane was seen to
slip and stagger and begin to descend. The little "wasp" came swooping
down after it, firing all the while until, when a few hundred feet
from the ground, our machine turned its nose straight downward and
crashed to earth, well behind our lines, both occupants being
instantly killed, or perhaps they had already been killed by the
bullets. The German thereupon turned and was soon back over his own
territory. That same afternoon, another of our machines was shot down,
apparently by the same man, just opposite our position, inside the
German lines.

[Illustration: German Aeroplane Trophy--Jules Vedrine Examining the
Machine Gun]

Shortly after this, when back in reserve, we watched another fight
directly over our heads. This was a pitiful tragedy. One of England's
best and most famous flyers, Captain Saunders, had been over the
German lines and had engaged and brought down an enemy and then,
having exhausted his ammunition, starte