The Bridgeport evening farmer., 1917-09-04

fidence in yourself and your machine.
My encounters in the air were as
nothing to my experience on the day
of the attack on this September 25th.
The weather was foggy, and flying
meant so much groping; to me the
experience was as near as possible
like that I had, first against Papke;
and later against Frank Klaus. L
had the flying instinct deep in me,
but I had to feel my way, just like
a boxer whose head is sent half spin
ming by a crack on the jaw.
It was necessary, so foggy was 1t,
in order to keep my people we'll post
ed with the progress of our offensive
that I should fly exceedingly low.
Time after time I was subjected to
rifle fire from the German infantry,
and my plane was riddled with bullets
at the end of my days work. But
again 1 was lucky: I escaped unhurt.
1t was on this occasion that I was
mentioned in the Order of the Day
for the first time. It is not necessary
to say how delighted I was when I
read the following mention:
On September 18th, had no
| hesitation in flying at a height
less than 200 metres over the enc
my lines during the action. Show
ed in many. instances remarkable
bravery ana energy, returning
| . home with his machine pierced by
bullets and shell -splinters.
And there followed at a later date
the coveted distinction of the Croix ce
Guerre with palm (the War Cross
and BARI t.
Our unit suffered so heavily on this
occasion that it was decided to give
US a rest, and we were accordingly
brought back to camp far behind the
| lines, where for several weeks we
were employed as teachers to appren-
! tice observers. ~ IS
1t was about this time that I re-
! ceived news of my father, mother,
and sister. I had not had a single
word from them or heard how they
were faring since the Germans seized
Lens, in October, 1914. Lens is where
| they live. You can imagine how
pleased I was.
When the war broke out 1 endeav-
lored to persuade them to come to
Paris, but they refused. They could
not be brought to believe that the
Germans would take Lens.
Here would like to say; if only to
remove many erroneous impressions
and correct many statements which
| have appeared in certain of the Eng
1ish newspapers, that my father was
not coal miner. He was employed
as a clerk in the offices/o the mining
company. When started to make a
! fortune, when my earnings began to
run into four figures a night-how
different just before the war to the
i time when I used to engage in a con-
ttest for few francs; believe did
not receive more than twenty francs
for my first fight in Paris-I induced
En1y father to leave the offices of the
L inf
him a nice little cafe, standing in the
main square in Lens It is called the
Cafe du Champion. I wonder what
has become of the little place-per-
haps not a brick of it is left for round
about Lens has suffered much she'll
4 ing.
The message that came to me from
my parents reached me- would put
1T. on record-through the good of
4 fices. of German soldier
/ 1t seems that while Lens was hem
med in and taken, a German N. c. o.
i was billeted in my parents house.
Now, Germans do not box; they
would not play games as we play
them; if they did they would come
4 nearer to human beings than they do,
fSbut extraordinary to relate, this Ger
man non-commissioned officer knew
all about boxing, had played Rugby
4 football, and was generally what is
called a good sporting chap.
He told my parents that he knew
all about me, and had, in fact, seen
me box. When he left the house he
promised that somehow he would get
in touch with me and let me know
that they were alive and well. And
to his everlasting credit he redeemed
his. promise.
, Through. some friends who were in
Switzerla nd, this German got a short
! note to me: He is the one German ]
shall ever forgive, and shall treas
ure that note for all time.