d turn. We used to write "To whom it may
concern" letters before going out on patrol, in which we left
directions for the notification of our relatives and the disposal of
our personal effects in case of death. Then we would climb into our
machines thinking, "This may be our last sortie. We may be dead in an
hour, in half an hour, in twenty minutes." We planned splendidly
spectacular ways in which we were to be brought down, always omitting
one, however, the most horrible as well as the most common,--in
flames. Thank Fortune, we have outgrown this second and belated period
of adolescence and can now take a healthy interest in our work.

Now, an inevitable part of the daily routine is to be shelled,
persistently, methodically, and often accurately shelled. Our interest
in this may, I suppose, be called healthy, inasmuch as it would be
decidedly unhealthy to become indifferent to the activities of the
German anti-aircraft gunners. It would be far-fetched to say that any
airman ever looks forward zestfully to the business of being shot at
with one hundred and fives; and seventy-fives, if they are well
placed, are unpleasant enough. After one hundred hours of it, we have
learned to assume that attitude of contemptuous toleration which is
the manner common to all _pilotes de chasse_. We know that the chances
of a direct hit are almost negligible, and that we have all the blue
dome of the heavens in which to maneuver.

Furthermore, we have learned many little tricks by means of which we
can keep the gunners guessing. By way of illustration, we are
patrolling, let us say, at thirty-five hundred metres, crossing and
recrossing the lines, following the patrol leader, who has his motor
throttled down so that we may keep well in formation. The guns may be
silent for the moment, but we know well enough what the gunners are
doing. We know exactly where some of the batteries are, and the
approximate location of all of them along the sector; and we know,
from earlier experience, when we come within range of each individual
battery. Presently one of them begins firing in bursts of four shells.
If their first estimate of our range has been an accurate one, if they
place them uncomfortably close, so that we can hear, all too well,
above the roar of our motors, the rending _Gr-r-rOW_, _Gr-r-rOW_, of
the shells as they explode, we sail calmly--to all outward
appearances--on, maneuvering very little. The gunners, seeing that we
are not di