“But, old man,” he said, “I was only thinking for your own good. Hell, if you want to be a damn fool and go on over the lines, knowing as little as you do, it’s not my worry. Go ahead!” I thanked him and told him that I had to start some time and I would be all ready to go over at my first opportunity. Fully decided to make myself at home I went out to the hangars and to my surprise, I saw the same kind of old airplanes we had used in the observation school in France. They were an obsolete type of French service plane, known as “A.R.’s”—Avion Renault—which in English meant “Renault Airplane.” The accepted meaning to the Americans, however, was “Antique Rattletrap.” The only good feature about the A.R. was the dependable motor, but they were very slow and did not fly well. They might in those days pass for a second class training plane, but to have them on the line, functioning as service planes, was a great surprise to me. The life of the airman depends very largely on the bus he drives. We all wanted Spads, Salmsons or Breguets, and, of course, any prospect of an American plane in those days was a myth, so there was noticeably keen disappointment when we found that we must fly over the front in those old, discarded and obsolete A.R.’s. However, they were all we had and so far as I was concerned, I knew that my stay in the squadron was largely by sufferance and I could not afford to kick lest I be also kicked out, so I immediately decided to think a lot, but say nothing. Those first few missions over the lines were tame enough. Happily enough I got in as substitute on the first mission of the squadron over the lines. The only diversion was the anti-aircraft artillery fire, or the “Archies,” and there was nothing tame about that. However, there was more activity in sight for in a few days Brereton announced that he wanted his squadron to be a specialized one and that he desired the names of a few observers who would volunteer to specialize in “Infantry contact patrol.” “Infantry contact patrol” to my mind meant nothing, so from force of habit I volunteered. The only other observers who volunteered were Lieutenant Emerson, a fine, young fellow who was killed a couple of days later, and Captain “Deacon” Saunders, our Chief Observer.