The Bridgeport evening farmer. [volume] (Bridgeport, Conn.) 1866-1917, 1916-11-23
wrote those words and French paper

wrote those words and French paper
that printed them.
Chapman, son Of John Jay Chap
man, "a, was in Paris studying when
the war broke out He enlisted in
the Foreign Legion, but in 1915, when
Norman Prince, '0S, and Frazier Cur
tbs, '98. organized the American
Squadron of the French Air Service,
associated himself with that arm.
There were five Harvard men in the
group, the three mentioned, and Lau-
renee Rumsey, '0S, and E. G. Cowdin
I'd, '09.
Chapman's daring made him a not
able figure in the French Army; and
he was brave. Last May, in a letter
to his father, he gave vivid picture
of life in midair. Following is part
Of it:
"It looked misty in the Vosges. =
Rendezvous over the field at a thou
sand metres shouted Kiffin.. nodded,
for the motor was turning; and we
sped over the field and up.
TN my cockpit, from which my
shoulders just protrude, have several
diversions besides flying. The COM
pass, of course, and the way I keep
packed in a tiny closet over the re-
servoir before my knees, small clock,
and an a1timetre.
But most important is the contour,
showing revolutions Of the motor,
which one is constantly regarding as
he moves the manetes of gasoline and
gas, back and forth.
ITO husband ones fuel and tease the
- I'll
the barburetter changes with the
weather and the altitude.
Dodging Shells In the Air.
"Over the field we scared, and due
east for B. Twelve hundred, 1900,
1900, 1900, 24OO Understanding
well at 1880 turns.
1.-The earth seemed hidden under
fine web such as the Lady Of ShaIlot
wove; soft purple in the west changing
to shimmering white in the east IN
der me on the left, the Vosges, like
rounded sand dunes cushioned up with
velvery light and dark MOSES Greatly
forests).
"But to the south, standing firmly
above the purple cloth-1ike icebergs
shone the Alps. My! they 1oked steep
on their western slopes emphasized
the effect One mighty group standing
aloof to the West-Mont Blanc, per-
haps-
"Ah, there are quantities of worm!
eaten fields-my friends, the trenches
and that town with the canal going
through it must be NJ. Right be-
side the capote of my engine, shining
through the white silk cloth, a silver
snake; the Rhine!
"What, not over quarter to six,
and left the field at five! Thirty-two
hundred metres. Let's go north and
have look at the map. Boo, my feet
are getting cold!'
while thus engaged Trun-un-ng-
tsss-a black puff Of smoke appeared
behind my tail, and I had the impress
sion Of having a piece Of iron hiss by.
Must have got my range, first shot!'
1 surmised, and making a steep bank.
pique'd heavily. There, I've lost
them now!'
'The whole art Of avoiding shells is
to pay no attention until they get
your range, and then dodge away,
changing altitude, and generally
avoid going in a straight line.
''In point of fact, 1 could see
punches Of exploding shells up over
my right shoulder, now a kilometre
off They continued to shell that sec
ton for some time, but little balls of
smoke thinning out and merging as
they crossed the lines.
War at Its Best.
"Bi11y Thaw and Rockwell came
over me, 300 metres they must have
been; I tried to follow them, but
found it difficult Up by A. re-
crossed the lines, taking a look at
T, and returned over NJ, I
met the same reception, but their aim
was wild, two or three hundred
metres above, and a scattering way
under me. 49,
Mary a Boche sailing over that
misty sea! My cheeks felt cold, and
having lost sight Of my companions
Cts much harder to see when one
is a little below, on account of the
wings), I headed for the foothills of
the vosges. NJ, then smaller
villages hudd1ed up in the valley, and
a couple of little lakes, like Jagged
pieces Of jet in the green seaweedy
map.
Fright over the Balton d'Alsace I
went, it seemed near, for I was sink
ing, now having reduced my engine
Down, down, with the uneven throhs
Of the motor, the sound of the wind
in the cables and the fetter of the
tangent machine settling. Il was de-