most important
of them all is his casualness. And he is so sincere and natural in it.
He has no conception of the dramatic possibilities of a
situation--something to be profoundly thankful for in the commander of
an _escadrille de chasse_. Situations are dramatic enough, tense
enough, without one's taking thought of the fact. He might have stood
there, watch in hand, counting off the seconds. He might have said,
"Remember, we're all counting on you. Don't let us down. You've got to
get that balloon!" Instead of that, he glanced at his watch as if he
had just remembered us.

"All right; run along, you sausage-spearers. We're having lunch at
twelve. That will give you time to wash up after you get back."

Miller, of course, had to have a parting shot. He had been in hiding
somewhere until the last moment. Then he came rushing up with a
toothbrush and a safety-razor case. He stood waving them as I taxied
around into the wind. His purpose was to remind me of the possibility
of landing with a _panne de moteur_ in Germany, and the need I would
then have of my toilet articles.

At 10.54, J. B. came slanting down over me, then pulled up in _ligne
de vol_, and went straight for the lines. I fell in behind him at
about one hundred metres distance. Irving was two hundred metres
higher. Before we left the field he said: "You are not to think about
Germans. That's my job. I'll warn you if I see that we are going to be
attacked. Go straight for the balloon. If you don't see me come down
and signal, you will know that there is no danger."

The French artillery were giving splendid cooperation. I saw clusters
of shell-explosions on the ground. The gunners were carrying out their
part of the programme, which was to register on enemy anti-aircraft
batteries as we passed over them. They must have made good practice.
Anti-aircraft fire was feeble, and, such of it as there was, very
wild.

We came within view of the railway line which runs from the German
lines to a large town, their most important distributing center on the
sector. Following it along with my eyes to the halfway point, I saw
the red roofs of the village which we had so often looked at from a
distance. Our balloon was in its usual place. It looked like a yellow
plum, and no larger than one; but ripe, ready to be plucked.

A burst of flame far to the left attracted my attention, and almost at
the same moment, one to the right. Ribbons of fire flapped upward in
clouds