‘2 o’clock. The centre of the works pass. I drop my torpedoes in rapid succession. My friend, who is over me and a little on the left, drops his also. I guess, more than I can exactly see, as I am so very high, that underneath in the works the people suffer from a sort of madness. There are rushes of people soon hidden by clouds of smoke which rise from many points. Nearly at the centre it seems that there is a formidable explosion, followed by intense fire. What a joy to have attained one’s aim! Krupp has been bombed, in full daylight, in spite of its anti-aircraft guns and of its ‘planes. I suppose that now the Boches must be mad with fury, and will try to chase us. Never mind, my mission has been fulfilled. I will fight enemy ‘planes if they come.... Here I am again over Dusseldorf, but not going so fast as in coming. The wind, which has veered, hampers me. A quick verification of my oil and petrol tanks. All is well; I can keep up for another six hours. The clouds get denser and denser. There is at some moments a thick mist, which veils completely the ground. As I am browsing, some explosions thunder louder than the noise of my engine. I turn right round, so that the Boche gunner loses the range. But as I turn I see 1,500 or 2,000 feet under me three Boche ‘planes who are giving chase. Their machines are as fast as mine, but as soon as they try to go up they lose ground. I slacken for a few seconds, and going straight towards the most forward of them, I serve him at about 150 yards with three bursts of my machine-gun. Unnerved, he prefers not to engage a fight and flies towards the left. But the others are attacking me from the back. It is time to go.... Have I wounded my opponent? I don’t think so, as he seems to be flying straight again, but very much lower. Soon the two others are only black spots.... The chase has lasted over thirty minutes, and I have got a real stiff neck, so often did I turn round.... Now I have been up six hours. Time drags dreadfully. My eyes hurt, and I suffer from the cold. Evidently I am over Belgium now. But where? I must know. I come down, engine stopped. How sweet is that silence, after six hours of tempest! Four thousand feet; it is low enough. ‘6.30. I cannot stand it any more, I am coming down, 7,000 feet, 5,000 feet, 1,000 feet. I cannot hear the guns any more. But what are these? Bivouacs. Am I in France? I keep on for another quarter of an hour, going south, and finally alight in an immense field, far from a village. If I am on the territory invaded by the Germans I’ll fly away under their nose. I am at the end of the field, ready to start again in case of need. I have kept my engine turning slowly. After five minutes of waiting, some people come running towards me—peasants. I shout to them at the top of my voice, “Where am I?” “At Champaubert,” they answer me. What a joy is mine! I am in France. Back, after having succeeded in what seemed to men an impossible enterprise.’