I landed alongside; in starting in again one
wheel was broken in the plowed frozen earth. In taking away the
"taxi" the park people completely demolished it for me. It was
rushed to Paris for repairs.
25.--I watch the others fly, and fume.
26.--Bucquet loaned me his "taxi." No view-finder; only a
wretchedly bad (oh, how bad!) sight-line.
At 12 o'clock.--Saw a Boche at 3800; took the lift.--Arrived at the
sun.--In turning, was caught in an eddy-wind, rotten tail
spin.--While coming down again I saw the Boche aiming at me 200
meters away; sent him ten shots: gun jammed; but the Boche seemed
excited and dived with his motor in full blast straight south. Off
we go! But I took care not to get too near so that he would not see
that my gun was out of action. The altimeter tumbled: 1600
Estrees-Saint-Denis came in sight. I maneuvered my Boche as well as
I could. Suddenly he righted himself and departed in the direction
of Rheims, banging away at me.
I tried bluffing; I rose 500 meters and let myself fall on him like
a pebble.
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