Balsley, a newcomer, managed to get wounded in the meantime. He had
started out with a party of four that had met a German squadron.
Balsley attacked the nearest German, “only to receive an explosive
bullet in his thigh. Extra cartridge rollers, dislodged from their
case, hit his arms. He was tumbling straight toward the trenches, but
by an effort he regained control, righted the plane, and landed without
disaster.
“Soldiers carried him to shelter, and later he was taken to a field
hospital, where he lingered for days between life and death. Ten
fragments of the explosive bullet were removed from his stomach. He
bore up bravely and became the favorite of the wounded officers in
whose ward he lay. When we flew over to see him they would say: ‘Il
est un brave petit gars, l’aviateur américain.’ [He’s a brave little
fellow, the American aviator.] On a shelf by his bed, done up in a
handkerchief, he kept the pieces of bullet taken out of him, and under
them some sheets of paper on which he was trying to write to his
mother, back in El Paso.
“Balsley was awarded the Médaille Militaire and the Croix de Guerre,
but the honors scared him. He had seen them decorate officers in the
ward before they died.