eon had a trip with
Ingold, a great aviator, in a biplane, which the Germans call a double-
decker, as distinguished from the Taube or monoplane, with its birdlike
wings and curved tail rudder-piece. Just as they came down, after a
circular spin over the lines, a strange machine, presumably hostile,
appeared far up and far away, but circled off to the south out of target
reach before the balloon gunman could get the range of her and the aim.
On the heels of this a biplane from another aviation field somewhere
down the left wing dropped in quite informally bearing two grease-
stained men to pass the time of day and borrow some gasoline. The
occasion appeared to demand a drink. We all repaired, therefore, to one
of the great canvas houses where the air birds nest night-times and
where the airmen sleep. There we had noggins of white wine all round,
and a pointer dog, which was chained to an officer's trunk, begged me in
plain pointer language to cast off his leash so he might go and stalk
the covey of pheasants that were taking a dust-bath in the open road not
fifty yards away.

The temptation was strong, but our guides said if we meant to get to the
battlefront before lunch it was time, and past time, we got started.
Being thus warned we did get started.

Of a battle there is this to be said--that the closer you get to it the
less do you see of it. Always in my experiences in Belgium and my more
recent experiences in France I found this to be true. Take, for
example, the present instance. I knew that we were approximately in the
middle sworl of the twisting scroll formed by the German center, and
that we were at this moment entering the very tip of the enormous
inverted V made by the frontmost German defenses. I knew that
stretching away to the southeast of us and to the northwest was a line
some two hundred miles long, measuring it from tip to tip, where sundry
millions of men in English khaki and French fustian and German shoddy-
wools were fighting the biggest fight and the most prolonged fight and
the most stubborn fight that historians probably will write down as
having been fought in this war or any lesser war. I knew this fight had
been going on for weeks now back and forth upon the River Aisne and
would certainly go on for weeks and perhaps months more to come. I knew
these things because I had been told them; but I shouldn't have known if
I hadn't been told. I shouldn't even have guessed it.

I recal