The following letter from a German military aviator to his parents is
printed in a recent issue of the _Brandenburger Zeitung_:
“Last Saturday night, while our company still lay in garrison, I
received orders to start on a flight into the enemy’s country at
daybreak the following morning. The assignment was as follows: From the
garrison over a French fortress into France, thence westward to Maas to
spy out land for French lines of communication and to fly back the
entire distance of 300 kilometers (about 186 miles).
“By way of preparation maps of the whole region were minutely studied
till midnight. Next morning at cock-crow our Gotha-Taube rolled across
the city square, then rose and headed westerly. In half an hour we had
reached an altitude of 1,200 meters (3,937 feet) above the town. Then we
headed for the French border, and immediately my observer, First Lieut.
A., called my attention to little black puffs of smoke, and I knew at
once we were being fired at by hostile artillery, so climbed to 2,000
meters (7,874 feet).
“Next we noticed that three of the enemy’s aeroplanes were pursuing us,
but we soon outdistanced and lost sight of them. Later we heard that two
of the enemy’s aeroplanes had been brought down by our artillery. Both
hands of one of the pilots were said to have been blown away by a shot.
“With a threefold ‘Hurrah!’ we now flew over the border toward a
battlefield of the war of 1870-71, which we reached without any further
untoward incidents. Here we noticed long columns of troops marching from
the south toward the northeast. We circled around the place and then
started toward Maas.
“We were now continuously fired upon. I saw, among other things, how a
battalion of infantry stopped in the street and aimed at us. Silently
and quietly we sat in our Taube and wondered what would happen next.
Suddenly I noticed a faint quivering throughout the whole aeroplane;
that was all. As I saw later, one of the planes had four holes made by
rifle bullets, but without changing our course on we flew.”