Now and then one of us will get ambitious to do something on his own
account. Not long ago Norman Prince became obsessed with the idea of
bringing down a German "sausage," as observation balloons are called.
He had a special device mounted on his Nieuport for setting fire to the
aërial frankfurters. Thus equipped he resembled an advance agent for
Payne's fireworks more than an _aviator de chasse_. Having carefully
mapped the enemy "sausages," he would sally forth in hot pursuit
whenever one was signalled at a respectable height. Poor Norman had a
terrible time of it! Sometimes the reported "sausages" were not there
when he arrived, and sometimes there was a super-abundancy of German
airplanes on guard.
He stuck to it, however, and finally his appetite for "sausage" was
satisfied. He found one just where it ought to be, swooped down upon
it, and let off his fireworks with all the gusto of an American boy on
the Fourth of July. When he looked again, the balloon had vanished.
Prince's performance isn't so easy as it sounds, by the way. If, after
the long dive necessary to turn the trick successfully, his motor had
failed to retake, he would have fallen into the hands of the Germans....
After dinner the same scene invariably repeats itself, over the coffee
in the "next room." At the big table several sportive souls start a
poker game, while at a smaller one two sedate spirits wrap themselves
in the intricacies of chess. Captain Thénault labours away at the
messroom piano, or in lighter mood plays with Fram, his police dog. A
phonograph grinds out the ancient query "Who Paid the Rent for Mrs. Rip
Van Winkle?" or some other ragtime ditty. It is barely nine, however,
when the movement in the direction of bed begins.
A few of us remain behind a little while, and the talk becomes more
personal and more sincere. Only on such intimate occasions, I think,
have I ever heard death discussed. Certainly we are not indifferent to
it. Not many nights ago one of the pilots remarked in a tired way:
"Know what I want? Just six months of freedom to go where and do what
I like. In that time I'd get everything I wanted out of life, and be
perfectly willing to come back and be killed."
Then another, who was about to receive 2,000 francs from the American
committee that aids us, as a reward for his many citations, chimed in.
"Well, I didn't care much before," he confessed, "but now with this
money coming in I don't want to die until I've had the fun of spending
it."
So saying, he yawned and went up to bed.