Eddie Rickenbacker told me a story while we were a part of the Army of Occupation which about expresses my idea of this narrative, the fact that I lived through it being what I consider my greatest accomplishment. “Rick” had in his famous 94th Pursuit Squadron, a hair-lipped pilot with whom I was earlier associated in the equally prominent 12th Observation Squadron. This lad was one of the few of our many airmen who realized that the flyer at the front plays ninety per cent in luck and not on good judgment. His flying was daredevilish and reckless, which, while it might be considered good form in pursuit work, was such that it involved entirely too great a risk for the two-place, or observation plane. So, the kid was transferred to Pursuit where he made good right off. It was the day of the Armistice. The boys were talking it all over, reminiscing and the like. Several of the famous pilots of the 94th had given accounts of some particular thrilling fight in which they had finally won, naming it—their greatest accomplishment of the war. So, as that was the topic of conversation, Eddie asked our friend what, after all, he considered his greatest accomplishment. The boys all listened attentively for the kid usually sprang something. The hair-lipped lad puzzled for a moment, then answered with his inimitable impediment, “Well, Captain Rickenbacker, the war is now over, isn’t it?” “Yes,” replied Eddie, hopeful that this was the correct reply. “——which means no one else will get killed, doesn’t it?” he added solemnly, and Rick solemnly attested to this fact. “Well,” the lad went on, “you see me; I’m still here.” “That’s right!” said the great Ace of Aces. “What about it?” “Well, Captain Rickenbacker,” replied the boy with evident surprise at Eddie’s apparent density. “Look me over, Captain, I’m still alive. That is my greatest accomplishment.” And after all, I am sure that all of our fighting men who have done actual service at the front—going through its hazards and dangers for any length of time, will agree that their greatest accomplishment is the fact that they came out of the thing alive; for while the code of military ethics at the front taught that one’s own life should be secondary to the accomplishment of one’s mission, yet there could not help but be a justifiably selfish pride after the mission was accomplished, that the participant was also alive to tell the tale. The 30th of September was a terrible day—there was very little flying, it was foggy and the clouds were low, irregular and uncertain, while the wind was almost a gale. We had no business going out—our over-anxiety, which the French say is the greatest fault of the American soldier, to get our work accomplished was the only justifiable reason for the trip.