At present things are hopelessly slow on account of bad weather, so I have a good deal of time to write and naught to write of. I still am waiting for my baptism of active service which is assigned for each day and held up on account of fog, low clouds or rain. In the afternoon it usually lifts a little, not enough to fly over the lines, but sufficient to permit a little _vol d’entrainement_, a practice flight around the field. I’ve been taking every chance to learn to fly, practicing reversements, vertically banked turns, 90° nose dives, etc. Two day ago, we had a very interesting mimic combat in the air. The Boche machine, which has been captured, and a Spad, both driven by very clever pilots, manoeuvred for position during fifteen or twenty minutes at 1,000 feet or less, back and forth over the field, doing almost every possible thing in the air--changing direction with incredible rapidity, diving, climbing, wing slipping, upside down dives--everything under the sun. Two of them were at it again today in two Spads, just manoeuvring. What a lot there is to learn! When I got through acrobacy at Pau, I had the impression that that kind of stuff was relatively easy--now I know different. For the present I’m working on the system of try one thing at a time--get that fairly well and then commence another. And small doses--ten or fifteen minutes for an acrobatic flight, not more, because one can easily get dangerously sick in a very short time. Not that there is any particular peril in getting ill in the air, only it’s beastly uncomfortable! XVIII AT THE FRONT--SOMEWHERE IN FRANCE. November 30, 1917. The rumor at the Lafayette Escadrille this evening is that they have been at last transferred. Of course they had similar rumors many times before. For myself I am becoming rather indifferent, very well satisfied here except for weather, and getting what I came over here for. Father mentioned something about a monitor’s job (after I had had experience at the front). My present inclination is decidedly against the idea. There is no job in the world I like less to think of and there are plenty of people who want to get comfortably settled in the rear, so let them, say I, and may they enjoy it. It is not a very pleasant job. As a retirement after a period of service at the front it is another matter. Of all people I can think of I have the smallest right to an _embusqué_ job at present--so here I hope to stay. Whether I fly with an American or French uniform I don’t care very much at the present moment. I had rather get a Boche than any commission in the army, but one cannot always tell about the future; perhaps after a few good scares I’ll be ready to jump at a monitor’s job. XIX AT THE FRONT, December 1, 1917.