My first solo ride was this morning. It consisted of going in a straight
line for half a mile at a height of two hundred feet. Everything went
finely—no fear, excitement, nor difficulty. Oh, how I am going to love
it! I am inclined to believe that the nervous strain of driving will be
less than that of driving an automobile after I have mastered the
technique. Imagine being lost in the clouds, having to fight for one’s
life in a storm! Great stuff! One man had his engine stop at low
altitude, went into a wing slip, and smashed his machine to atoms. He
bruised his knee, but goes up tomorrow. Some of the final tests consist
of _petits voyages_ about the country—a couple of hundred miles. This is
the château country, and several of the men have been having
experiences. One man’s motor went bad and made him descend near a little
town. He was arrested as a German spy, but on proving his identity was
released by the mayor of the town. When he returned to his machine he
found a Renault limousine waiting for him. The liveried chauffeur asked
if he would favor the madame by taking dinner with them. He granted the
favor, and rode back through the streets down which he had been led
thirty minutes before by a _gendarme_. He came to a great château, was
introduced to some twenty girls (guests) among which were six girls of
his age, both French and English. He was given a room and bath and
fitted out with clothes which belonged to the son of the house, in
aviation service at the Front. It was three days before he could get his
machine fixed. During that time he was the chief guest, escorting the
hostess into the dining room, canoeing, pheasant hunting, motoring, and
playing tennis with charming girls. He had a small car at his disposal,
and a valet to attend him. They called him “Sammy” and urged him to
return. It was the home of the Councillor of Gasoline of France. What
luck! Half the men that go out have some such story when they return,
but this man received the “aluminum lawnmower.” It is everybody’s hope
to have some such trouble.
We are so busy now that I cannot write as much as I should like to. I am
trying to keep up some other correspondence.
Your ever loving,