“At 150 yards I pressed my triggers. The tracer bullets cut a streak of living fire into the rear of the Pfalz tail. Raising the nose of my aeroplane slightly the fiery streak lifted itself like a stream of water pouring from a garden hose. Gradually it settled into the pilot’s seat. The swerving of the Pfalz course indicated that its rudder no longer was held by a directing hand. At 2,000 feet above the enemy’s lines I pulled up my headlong dive and watched the enemy machine continuing on its course. Curving slightly to the left the Pfalz circled a little to the south and the next minute crashed onto the ground just at the edge of the woods a mile inside their own lines. I had brought down my first enemy aeroplane and had not been subjected to a single shot!” So capital a beginning had an appropriate sequence of performances and honors to match, among them, as early as May 15th, the Croix de Guerre. That day, too, Lieutenant Jimmy Meissner, the merriest, most reckless member of the squadron, took to his breast the Croix de Guerre, and much ado the two had to keep their elation within the limits of decorum, which stunt flying for the entertainment of the French officials did not diminish. Rickenbacker says: “Suddenly Jimmy Meissner stood by my side, grinning his most winsome grin. ‘Rick,’ said he, ‘I feel that “Hate-the-Hun” feeling creeping over me. What do you say to going up and getting a Boche?’ “‘Right!’ I called back over my shoulder. ‘Come along. We’ll take a real ride.’ “As luck would have it, we had hardly left the ground when we saw a Hun two-seater, probably a Rumpler machine, very high above us. The Rumpler has the highest ceiling of any of the German two-seaters and frequently they sail along above us at an elevation quite impossible for the Nieuport to reach. It is maddening to attain one’s maximum height and see the enemy still sailing imperturbably along, taking his photographs and scorning even to fire an occasional burst at one. We climbed at our fastest to overtake this fellow before he could reach his safety spot. Evidently he got ‘wind up,’ for after a few minutes climbing he sheered off towards Germany and disappeared from our view. We completed our patrol of the lines without finding another enemy in the sky and returned to our field, where we landed with the mutual vow that on the morrow we would begin seriously our palm collecting shows until we might dangle our new Croix de Guerre well down below our knees. “Jimmy looked contemplatively down at my long legs. “‘Have a heart, Rick!’ he said softly, ‘think of the cost of the red tape!’”