Henderson was one of my best friends and happily though he was not killed, it had a peculiar significance to me that one hundred per cent of the day’s casualties were “H’s.” It looked like an off-day for the “H’s” without a doubt. There were only three of us left—one was the Ordnance Officer, Hall by name, who was not a flyer; Harwood, who was busy as could be on some assignments; and myself. The only “H” left was to do an artillery adjustment that afternoon. I thought it might be a good idea to put off that adjustment until the next day, but I could not get up the courage to tell Brereton my honest convictions. When we got to the airdrome every one was feeling mighty low, because these were our first casualties, outside of the loss of Angel and Emerson in the Toul Sector. The bunch all felt that though the sun was still shining and it was a good day for flying that there were better days ahead. Even the squadron surgeon sent out the recommendation that the flying be suspended for the day. I felt quite relieved for I could not conceive of any one going against the recommendation of the “Medico.” But this did not appeal to Brereton. In his characteristic manner he loudly and emphatically announced that he was not going to let a little thing like that stop the War; if a squadron went to the Front they must expect some casualties and that flying would go right on. I did not eat any dinner; I did not care for it; for, as usual, I did not agree with Brereton. I honestly felt that flying ought to be suspended in deference to old “Pop” Hinds if for no other reason at all. I really dreaded that flight and even the praise of that Artillery Colonel meant nothing in my life. No one came out to see us off. It was the wrong atmosphere. There was gloom in the sky, gloom on the ground, and gloom within our own beings. In fact, the whole world looked like a dark cloud. The ordinarily jovial mechanics were all acting like a bunch of pall bearers. Brereton gave me a pilot by the name of West, which to my mind seemed particularly pertinent for I sure felt as though I were going in that direction. For protection they sent a plane piloted by Schnurr with whom I had previously had a narrow escape and as his observer they sent Thompson against whom I had no complaint at all, for Thompson on his first flight over the lines with the French, shot down an enemy plane. His presence, of course, was no meager consolation, for while I did not want any drawing cards along, I felt that if the Germans were going to attack it would be a good thing to have some one along who could do the fighting, because my experience in actual fighting up to this time put me in about the same class that the St. Louis Nationals generally have in the Baseball Club standing. I was at the bottom of the list. In fact, Thompson was the only one in the squadron who had so far had a fight and that was while he was with the French.