nse of shame."

"Well, he has the courage to be a coward, and that is more than you
have, son, or I either."

Our fellow pilots of the Lafayette Corps were lounging outside the
barracks on our arrival. They gave us a welcome which did much to
remove our feelings of strangeness; but we knew that they were only
mildly interested in the news from the schools and were glad when they
let us drop into the background of conversation. By a happy chance
mention was made of a recent newspaper article of some of the exploits
of the _Escadrille_, written evidently by a very imaginative
journalist; and from this the talk passed to the reputation of the
Squadron in America, and the almost fabulous deeds credited to it by
some newspaper correspondents. One pilot said that he had kept record
of the number of German machines actually reported as having been
brought down by members of the Corps. I don't remember the number he
gave, but it was an astonishing total. The daily average was so high,
that, granting it to be correct, America might safely have abandoned
her far-reaching aerial programme. Long before her first pursuit
squadron could be ready for service, the last of the imperial German
air-fleet would, to quote from the article, have "crashed in
smouldering ruin on the war-devastated plains of northern France."

In this connection I can't forbear quoting from another, one of the
brightest pages in the journalistic history of the legendary
Escadrille Lafayette. It is an account of a sortie said to have taken
place on the receipt of news of America's declaration of war.

"Uncle Sam is with us, boys! Come on! Let's get those
fellows!" These were the stirring words of Captain Georges
Thenault, the valiant leader of the Escadrille Lafayette,
upon the morning when news was received that the United
States of America had declared war upon the rulers of
Potsdam. For the first time in history, the Stars and
Stripes of Old Glory were flung to the breeze over the camp,
in France, of American fighting men. Inspired by the sight,
and spurred to instant action by the ringing call of their
French captain, this band of aviators from the U.S.A. sprang
into their trim little biplanes. There was a deafening roar
of motors, and soon the last airman had disappeared in the
smoky haze which hung over the distant battle-lines.

We cannot follow them on that journey. We cannot see