Escadrille Spa-84,
Secteur Postal 181,
Par A. C. M.--Paris.
November 1, 1917.
Well, I’m here--in sight of the front at last. To date I haven’t been
out there yet and won’t for a few days more as they take lots of care
of new pilots and don’t feed them to the Boche right away. Probably day
after tomorrow the lieutenant in command will take me out to show me
around the lines and after that I’ll take my place in patrols with the
others. The work is exclusively patrolling, establishing as it were a
barrage against German machines and preventing as far as possible any
incursions of the French lines. As the big attack is over, there is
comparatively little activity. Sometimes one goes for a whole patrol
without being fired on and without seeing an enemy machine anywhere
near the lines. During the three days I’ve been here, the group has
accounted for several Boches without any losses whatever. Young
Bridgeman of the Lafayette Escadrille had a bullet through his fuselage
just in front of his chest, but suffered no damage except from fright.
There are several _escadrilles_ in the group, a _groupe de combat_--it
is called--all have Spads which makes it very nice. The Lafayette, 124,
is of our group and have adjoining barracks, which makes it very nice
(I seem to repeat) for us lone Americans in French _escadrilles_. We
drop in there far too often and the first few nights I used the bed
of the famous Bill Thaw’s roommate, away on permission. Did I write
you that one morning he brought in Whiskey to wake me up, and my eye
no sooner opened than my head was buried under the covers. Whiskey is
a pet--a very large lion cub, which has unfortunately outgrown its
utility as a pet and was sent yesterday, with its running mate, Soda,
to the Zoo at Paris, to be a regular lion.
They are a very odd crowd--the members of the Lafayette Escadrille,
a few nice ones and a bunch of rather roughnecks. Their conversation
is an eye opener for a new arrival. Mostly about Paris, permissions,
and the rue de Braye, but occasionally about work and that _is_
interesting. Nonchalant doesn’t express it. When Bridgy got shot up as
mentioned above, they all kidded the life out of him and when he got
the Croix de Guerre, they had him almost in tears--just because he’s
the kiddable kind.
But in talking about the work--for instance, Jim Hall: “I _piquéd_ on
him with full motor and got so darn close to him that when I wanted to
open fire I was so scared of running into him that I had to yank out of
the way and so never fired a single shot.” Or Lufberry just mentions in
passing that he got another Boche this morning, but those ---- observer
people won’t give him credit for it. He has fourteen official now and
probably twice as many more never allowed him. Some days ago during the
attack he had seven fights in one day, brought down six of them and got
credit for one. Which must be discouraging.