WAR- CHRONICLE

69
ribbon on a white ground and has strong fortifications on its right
bank. One single shot was fired at us, but the shell exploded at
a long distance from the machine.
Forwards towards South-East! We can see the outlines of
towers in the foggy distance, they increase from minute to minute—
"Warsaw ! We proceed in this direction at a rate of 120 kilometres
an hour, and have arrived at our destination. Corporal S . . makes
powerful curves and I have been sketching for the past ten minutes
and now proceed to take the necessary photographs. Suddenly—
the first cracker. The apparently harmless cloud of smoke just
before us shows that the forts have opened fire. Now again a
shrapnel—yet another—and finally lively reports from all the works.
One shell bursts disagreeably near and the air pressure dashes the
entire machine to the left and not a little over the left plane, however
after a critical moment it rights itself again, thanks to the pilot's
presence of mind and the gallant Mercedes. We are at a height
of 500 metres when we begin our work. The first bomb is dropped,
the black white and red ribbon spreads and facilitates observation.
The first bomb has hit a barracks. It must have exploded, as thick
black clouds of smoke ascend, but the second appeal's to have been
blind, at least I cannot observe any effect. The third bomb however
sets fire to a large petroleum tank on the banks of the Vistula from
which powerful flames are emitted and greasy black smoke ascends.
We have every reason to be pleased with our success.
But now we must make for home, as things begin to be rather
uncomfortable for us. S . . again clutches the horizontal rudder and
the faithful machine begins to climb. We have reached the cloud
frontier, our Barograph pointing to 700 m when suddenly we feel
a. strong thud and through the noise of the motor distinguish that
•of breaking wood. Horrified, we turn to look at the planes, they
sire undamaged with the exception of some bullet holes, but the
machine begins to sink, the shell has damaged the horizontal rudder.
The vertical rudder seems to be still in order, S . . turns the gas
on full and keeps working with the twisted wings. We try to get
out of the Russian gun range, the seconds seem like eternity—but
at last we have succeeded ... if the motor can only hold out ....
our eyes are riveted on the valves. The Russian positions appear
hefore us again, this is our last chance. We must get across the
•enemy positions hardly more than 600 m. high. They must have
recognized us, as a machine gun fire such as I have never experienced
is brought to bear on us. This must be the end. Some
of the bullets hit the body, if the motor is hit, we must drop like
a stone to the ground. 1 feel a sharp knock on my breast. Now
all is over. My whole life rushes past. My childhood—my mother!
This unconsciousness lasts but a moment. The enemy' fire grows
less, we are over our own lines. S . . chokes off the motor, the
machine darts forward, he arranges the rolls and twisted wings and
turns on full gas again, so as to prevent the by-plane capsizing—