I was determined to get to the Front and with that as my paramount ideal, I would take the first opportunity that would lead to its realization. The chance came one morning early in September, 1917, when one of my friends, Lieut. Armin Herold, caught me going out of the mess hall late (as usual) for breakfast and excitedly told me that the Division Adjutant had just tacked a little notice on the door at Headquarters, in response to an urgent request from General Pershing, that ten officers who ranked as First or Second Lieutenants would be detailed at once for training as airplane observers, and would be sent to France immediately upon completion of their training. Volunteers were requested. That part about “training as airplane observers” was Greek to me—I did not know that such things existed—but at the word “France” I pricked up my ears like a fire horse at the sound of a bell. My decision was formed then and there. I was going to be an aërial observer, whatever that was, and nothing was going to keep me from taking that chance, my first opportunity, to go to France. I almost lost my breakfast at the thought of having to ride in an airplane, but that promise to send me to France at once was an anesthetic to my better judgment, and I right away made my first flight, au pied, covering that ten acres of plowed ground over to the Division Headquarters in ten flat. I rushed in and made application. The Divisional Signal Officer was a Major who felt that aërial observation was an extremely technical branch. He did not know a terrible lot about it, and told me that he had placed the bulletin on the board only a few minutes before and was surprised that I had responded so quickly. He asked me a lot of trick questions as to my technical training, and now, since I have made a fair record as an aërial observer, I don’t mind making the confession that I, along with other conspirators desiring early action, made several “for the period of the emergency” statements. The Major wanted to know if I knew anything about civil engineering. I told him I did, but, as a matter of fact, I hardly knew the difference between a compass and a level. He asked me if I got sick in an airplane. I flinched a little, but told him “No,” the presumption of innocence being in my favor. He then asked me if I had ever ridden in one. I laughed so heartily at this joke that he was convinced that I had. The truth of the matter was that previous to that time if anyone had ever got me in an airplane they would certainly have had to hog-tie me and drag me to the ordeal. He then wanted to know what experience I had with mechanical engines. I told him that my experience was quite varied and that I considered myself an expert on mechanical engines, having had a course in mechanical engineering. This was all true, yet I do not, to this day, know the principles surrounding the operations of an engine, and if anything ever should go wrong, the