administrative bureaux unfurled, with such headlong haste. In a few
hours we were aboard the train, panting, but happy. Our party
consisted of Sergeant Prince, and Rockwell, Chapman, and myself, who
were only corporals at that time. We were joined at Luxeuil by
Lieutenant Thaw and Sergeants Hall and Cowdin.

For the veterans our arrival at the front was devoid of excitement;
for the three neophytes--Rockwell, Chapman, and myself--it was the
beginning of a new existence, the entry into an unknown world. Of
course Rockwell and Chapman had seen plenty of warfare on the ground,
but warfare in the air was as novel to them as to me. For us all it
contained unlimited possibilities for initiative and service to
France, and for them it must have meant, too, the restoration of
personality lost during those months in the trenches with the Foreign
Legion. Rockwell summed it up characteristically.

"Well, we're off for the races," he remarked.


PILOT LIFE AT THE FRONT

There is a considerable change in the life of a pilot when he arrives
on the front. During the training period he is subject to rules and
regulations as stringent as those of the barracks. But once assigned
to duty over the firing line he receives the treatment accorded an
officer, no matter what his grade. Save when he is flying or on guard,
his time is his own. There are no roll calls or other military
frills, and in place of the bunk he slept upon as an eleve, he finds a
regular bed in a room to himself, and the services of an orderly. Even
men of higher rank who although connected with his escadrille are not