September 27, 1917.
Since last I wrote a regular letter, considerable has taken place.
First, I am now at Pau, having finished up Avord. Have sent postcards
to Father right along to keep track of movements. After _brevet_ was
over, I did not take the customary permission of forty-eight hours, but
went straight to work on Nieuport, D. C. (double command). One cannot
learn a great deal riding with an instructor--only about enough to keep
from smashing in landing, because one never knows when the instructor
is messing with the controls, when it’s one’s self. There are five
kinds of Nieuports--differing mainly in size, the smaller being faster
and more agile in the air, better adapted to eccentric flying. They are
28, 23, 18, 15, 13 (the baby Nieuport). At Avord I had about a week of
D. C. on 28 and 23 (the numbers refer to size of wings) with several
days of no work. Then some days on 23 alone and finally on 18 alone.
The landings are a bit different from those of the machines I had been
flying as they are faster and the machines are quite nose-heavy. In
the air the nose-heavy feature makes them “fly themselves”--that is,
according to the speed of the motor the machine will rise and climb
or _piqué_ and descend, with never a touch from the pilot. If the
weather is not very bad, the Nieuport will correct itself automatically
from all displacements. But in landing the nose-heavy feature causes
a great many _capotages_. If the landing isn’t done about right with
the tail low--over she goes on her nose or all the way onto her back.
It is a very common occurrence and has become almost a joke. When a
pupil capotes, everybody kids him--no one hurries over to see if he is
hurt, not at all; he climbs out from under, usually cursing, and in ten
minutes the truck is out to salvage the wreck.
It is astounding the way smashes are taken as a matter of course.
Yesterday one chap in landing hit another machine, demolishing both but
not touching either pilot. Being worth some $15,000 or $25,000, but no
one seemed to worry--it’s very much a matter of course. The monitor
was a little peeved because he will be short of machines for a few
days, but that was all. I’ve seen as many as ten machines flat on their
backs or with tails high in the air, on one field at the same time. For
myself, I haven’t capoted or busted any wood since the Blériot days.
But I’m knocking on the wooden table now. On several occasions it has
been only luck that saved me, as I’ve made many rotten landings.
Well, to get back to the diary. After finishing at Avord, I waited
around for two days to get papers fixed up, requested and obtained
permission and then decided not to use it and left straight for Pau
after fond farewells to the friends I’ve been with for three and a half
months. Looking back, I didn’t have such a bad time at Avord after all,
though I did get terribly tired of the living conditions.
My trip to Pau I put down to experience. I discovered one schedule not
to travel by in future. Leaving Avord at 2:15 I got to Bourges at 2:45
and found that the train left at 7:29. Fortunately, there was another
chap from the school on the train, Arthur Bluthenthal, an old Princeton
football star, whom I have gotten to know quite well, so we managed to
waste the afternoon together. At 7:29 I started another half hour’s
journey, at the end of which the timetable said that the train for
Bordeaux left at 10:30 (this is all P. M.).
At this town there were some American engineers, so I embraced the
fellow countrymen in a strange land. Finished up a not very gay evening
by attending the movies, a most odd institution. Clouds of tobacco
smoke obscured the screen, and most of the action was around the bar
at one side of the hall. Nobody was drunk, but nearly every one was
drinking and very gay. This was merely Saturday night in a small town
of the Provinces--not in gay Paree. At 10:15 I got in a first class
compartment and tried to find a comfortable position in which to sleep.
At 2:15 A. M. I had mussed up my clothes considerably, lost my temper
and not slept a wink. Then we had to change again. The rest of the
morning I sat opposite an American officer, a queer old fogey, and
we tried to kid each other into thinking we were sleeping, with no
success. Arrived at Bordeaux at 7 A. M., and found that the train for
Pau left immediately, so I missed out on breakfast, too--Oh, it was
a hectic trip. My idea of a very unpleasant occupation is that of a
travelling salesman in France.