Your letter came yesterday, and as I am in a great writing mood tonight
I shall answer it. First, to tell you what we are doing. We are now back
at the school of Avord. Here we learn to fly the Nieuport. A year ago
that was the fastest plane at the Front and they still use them as
fighting planes. First we ride in double command “twenty-eight’s.”
(Twenty-eight means twenty-eight meters square of wing surface.) Then we
do “twenty-three” double command and then are cut loose on them. Lastly,
we finish with twenty rides solo in an “eighteen.” I finish the
“twenty-eight” class tomorrow and will be through at this school in ten
days. The eighteen-meter machines land at ninety miles an hour. They are
wonderful little things and will do anything in the air. We go to work
at six in the morning, and return at six in the evening, but the hardest
work is waiting when there is too much wind to fly. We build a fire and
sit about telling stories and making toast. When we cannot get bread we
just tell stories. When it rains we go in the tent and read. I am
reading a history of France. It is more fun to read history than to
study it, and I think you know more when you get through. Of course I am
surrounded by all the old castles and battle grounds and graves of the
warriors of seven centuries. That makes a difference.
There was a bad accident the week before I got here. A two-passenger
plane struck a solo plane in the air. It was a head-on collision, and
all three aviators were killed. That is a very rare accident, though.
I see America is preparing for five years of war. You may get over yet.
Write me whenever you can. You do not know how much your letters help to
buck up a lonely brother sometimes.
Your ever loving brother,