World War, 1914-1918 -- Personal narratives, American
Of course this is just driving in a straight line through good air.
Ascent is dangerous; landing, an art in itself. Every curve has its
corresponding angle of bank, and the angle varies according to the
direction of the wind relative to line of flight. Perfect carburetion is
essential at all altitudes, but that all comes later. An understanding
of air currents and their effects must become instinctive; so, after
all, the statement that it is easy applies only where someone else is
there to do the worrying and look after the important details, any one
of which stands between the here and the hereafter. The pilot said I did
well on my first two sorties.
Monday I went in to paint with the doctor, but he was going to an Allied
musical fête given by the hospital for the reeducation of wounded
soldiers, and so I accompanied him. Like all charity affairs, some of it
was very boresome, but there was some very good music and one singer
from the Opéra Comique of Paris. I shall go another day to paint with
the doctor.
This letter has been written out on the field, and as it has been
continued through three classes I had better mail it. Have not heard
from home for ten days or more. Had a couple of letters from my
_marraine_.
SON.
_September 11, 1917._
DEAR FAMILY:
From the sky the world is just as beautiful as from the ground, but all
in a different way. Fields and farms become checks and plaids in varied
greens and browns. Stream necklaces and jeweled lakes bedeck the
landscape around. Horizon lines jump back ten leagues, and clouds swim
by in droves. The setting sun may rise again for him who mounts to fly.
Man, groping about in great fields assumes his actual size and
importance in the universe; instead of being the egotistical, dominating
element in an unimportant foreground he shrinks to an atom, and the
eternal infinite engulfs him. I can imagine a future life as a soul
speeding through space, existing upon a sensation, a boundless view, and
a breath of air.
The flying is progressing well. The monitor said tonight that he seldom
had seen a pupil so apt, that I was doing well and would take up
landings tomorrow. Twice today he let me take the aeroplane off the
ground. I’ve had an hour and fifteen minutes of flying now and will soon
catch up with the class, as far as ability is concerned. Our monitor is
a wonderful teacher and a splendid flyer.
I’m just as busy as I care to be. Up at five o’clock; work, six to ten;
lecture, ten to eleven; repose to three; lecture, three to four; work
four to nine. I haven’t had time to mail this letter, but I’ll do it
tomorrow.
Well, I’m simply wild about this life. The country is beautiful;
châteaux abound; pretty farms—but I must go to bed.
Good night,
DINSMORE.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account