others off when two more swooped down upon him. Such a fight is a
matter of seconds, and one cannot clearly see what passes. Lufbery and
Prince, whom Chapman had defended so gallantly, regained the French
lines. They told us of the combat, and we waited on the field for
Chapman's return. He was always the last in, so we were not much
worried. Then a pilot from another fighting escadrille telephoned us
that he had seen a Nieuport falling. A little later the observer of a
reconnaissance airplane called up and told us how he had witnessed
Chapman's fall. The wings of the plane had buckled, and it had dropped
like a stone he said.

We talked in lowered voices after that; we could read the pain in one
another's eyes. If only it could have been some one else, was what we
all thought, I suppose. To lose Victor was not an irreparable loss to
us merely, but to France, and to the world as well. I kept thinking of
him lying over there, and of the oranges he was taking to Balsley. As
I left the field I caught sight of Victor's mechanician leaning
against the end of our hangar. He was looking northward into the sky
where his _patron_ had vanished, and his face was very sad.


PROMOTIONS AND DECORATIONS

By this time Prince and Hall had been made adjutants, and we corporals
transformed into sergeants. I frankly confess to a feeling of marked
satisfaction at receiving that grade in the world's finest army. I was
a far more important person, in my own estimation, than I had been as
a second lieutenant in the militia at home. The next impressive event
was the awarding of decorations. We had assisted at that ceremony for
Cowdin at Luxeuil, but this time three of our messmates were to be