Rain, almost continuously, since the 22d. I am absolutely sick of this
loafing.
Since June 14th, I have a battleplane of my own: a biplane, with
150-horsepower motor. The pilot sits in front; the observer behind
him, operating the machine gun, which can be fired to either side and
to the rear. As the French are trying to hinder our aerial observation
by means of battleplanes, we now have to protect our division while it
flies. When the others are doing range-finding, I go up with them, fly
about in their vicinity, observe with them and protect them from
attack. If a Frenchman wants to attack them, then I make a hawk-like
attack on him, while those who are observing go on unhindered in their
flight. I chase the Frenchman away by flying toward him and firing at
him with the machine gun. It is beautiful to see them run from me;
they always do this as quick as possible. In this way, I have chased
away over a dozen.
[Illustration: THE MASTER-FLIER AND HIS MEN]
[Illustration: BÖLCKE AND HIS BROTHER WILHELM, SEPTEMBER, 1914]