NS

Having simple civilian notions as to the amount of time necessary for
dressing, Drew and I rose with the sound of the bugle on the following
morning. We had promised each other that we would begin our new life
in true soldier style, and so we reluctantly hurried to the
wash-house, where we shaved in cold water, washed after a fashion, and
then hurried back to the unheated barrack-room. We felt refreshed,
morally and physically, but our heroic example seemed to make no
impression upon our fellow aviators, whether French or American.
Indeed, not one of them stirred until ten minutes before time for the
morning _appel_, when, there was a sudden upheaval of blankets down
the entire length of the room. It was as though the patients in a hospital
ward had been inoculated with some wonderful, instantaneous-health-giving
virus. Men were jumping into boots and trousers at the same time, and
running to and from the wash-house, buttoning their shirts and drying
their faces as they ran. It must have taken months of experiment to
perfect the system whereby every one remained in bed until the last
possible moment. They professed to be very proud of it, but it was
clear that they felt more at ease when Drew and I, after a week of
heroic, early-morning resolves, abandoned our daily test of courage.
We are all Doctor Johnsons at heart.

It was a crisp, calm morning--an excellent day for flying. Already the
mechanicians were bringing out the machines and lining them up in
front of the hangars, in preparation for the morning work, which began
immediately after _appel_. Drew and I had received notice that we were
to begin our training at once. Solicitous fellow countrymen had warned
us to take with us all our flying clothes. We were by no means to
forget our goggles, and the fur-lined boots which are worn over
ordinary boots as a protection against the cold. Innocently, we obeyed
all instructions to the letter. The absurdity of our appearance will
be appreciated only by air-men. Novices begin their training, at a
Bleriot monoplane school, in Penguins--low-powered machines with
clipped wings, which are not capable of leaving the ground. We were
dressed as we would have no occasion to be dressed until we should be
making sustained flights at high altitudes. Every one, Frenchmen and
Americans alike, had a good laugh at our expense, but it was one in
which we joined right willingly; and one kind-hearted _adjudant-moniteur_,
in order to