The hardest battle of all has been to keep Donovan with the Regiment, but he has made that fight himself, as there is no place else in the world that would tempt him for a minute. He has dodged orders to send him to Staff College (which would inevitably mean a transfer after he was finished), orders to go on special duties, invitations or suggestions to receive promotion by transfer. General Menoher and Colonel MacArthur have been always alert to take up the battle to retain him with us. He and I tramped the muddy road tonight while he disburdened himself of a new worry. The Provost Marshal General wants an assistant who is at once a good lawyer and a keen soldier, with a knowledge of French, and he has demanded that Donovan be sent to him. Colonel Hughes, our new Chief of Staff, has done his best to block it; but he has been informed by General Headquarters that the authorities of the 42nd Division have managed to evade the wishes of military authority in Colonel Donovan’s case six times already and that this order is peremptory. All that General Menoher has been able to do is to hold him until the next battle is over. Donovan is disgusted and sore for the first time in my knowledge of him. Every now and then there is some desultory shelling in the woods, but the only sight of warfare that we get is in the sky. Our balloons must be well placed, because the German flyers have been very persistent in their attempts to bring them down, and their efforts are too often successful. Today, we saw a German aviator perform a feat which was one of the most daring things that any of us has seen during the war. The rapid and sustained discharge of anti-aircraft guns (which have their own unmistakable note) brought everybody to the edge of the woods. Guided by puffs of white or black smoke which dotted the sky above us, we were able to detect a single German plane headed unswervingly towards us, and not flying very high either. Our own planes were swooping towards him, but he came right on, without any change of altitude or direction. He passed over our line of balloons, and then turned abruptly and dived towards the one nearest us, throwing his dart and passing on. The flames did not show at once, and evidently noticing this, he checked his flight and started back to finish the job. Just then the flames burst up, and he wheeled in air to make his escape. Soldiers in combat divisions are the best sports in the world. There must have been twenty thousand of them watching this daring exploit of an enemy, and I feel certain there was not a man amongst them who did not murmur “I hope to God the beggar gets away.” There were a dozen of our planes after him by this time and before he reached his own lines they forced him to earth, landing in safety.