WAR- CHRONICLE

68
The aerodrome of our half air-squadron was situated at K . . ,
about 6 kilometres behind our front. On the evening of 17th Marchr
we got orders to make observations of the enemy movements in
the section between N . . . and N . . . We arranged to start the next
morning. Lance-corporal S . . . was pilot and I the observer. The
L. V. G. machine is before its tent at 9 a. m., the mechanics giving
her the last touch, supplies for 5 hours must be poured into the
tanks, here and there a wire must be tightened, a screw oiled. While
corporal S . . and I take one more look at the map, so as to be
perfectly sure of our direction, bombs are hang on to the body of
the machine. We are prepared that it will be unusually cold, the
thermometer points to—12 degrees—so that the cooling water is
poured in almost at boiling point. Besides this, a little glycerine
and some carbonate of soda is added (latter so as to prevent acids).
W T e protect ourselves from the cutting eastern cold with our bigsheep
skins and thick felt boots.
It is 9 - 15 a.m., the by-plane is rolled on to the starting rail,
one of the mechanics turns the propeller, all is ready. Rrrr
whizzes the starter, the Mercedes hisses and springs round, while
the glistening screw sends the snow in the clouds flying back.
Sturdy soldiers hands are still holding the machine by its body and
tail until the propeller has reached the highest number of revolutions.
The machine rises, lurches, rears, jerking and groaning. A sign!
The mechanics let go and the by-plane dashes like a dart across
the snow field. In a moment it suddenly jumps into its element.
The weather was very squally, the wind coming from N.E. and
continually throwing the machine on its side, so that S . . was kept
busy trying to fight the elements. After about 5 minutes, we reached
an altitude of 700 m. and I gave directions as to our course. The
vast snowy plain lies beneath, blending our eyes in spite of our
yellow glasses. All points from which we could take our bearings,
are snowed up, the only thing that we can see distinctly, is the
railway line to Warsaw, and long extensive trenches which intersect
the country like furrows, one parallel with the other, and then
again some in zic-zac. Now and then decoy positions and advanced
outposts, both of which are only recognizable with the assistance
with the sharpest field glasses. Then the intervening space between
both armies. The L. V. G. continues to ascend, but the motor seems
to have difficulty in doing its work. Now we pierce the clouds
and are enveloped in dark fog. We can hardly recognize the ends
of the planes, so dark has it become, and we must depend altogether
on our compass for direction. After about 10 minutes, the
pilot tugs at the horizontal rudder and with choked-off motor we
come out of the clouds, having flown over the enemy lines under
cover of the fog and now find ourselves behind the Russian front.
Processions of carriages and carts on all streets! A field ambulance,
flying the Geneva Cross is near the railway line, which we
follow in the direction of Warsaw. The Vistula looks like a black