During the whole journey I was labouring under an inner excitement and disquiet which I could not throw off, and when I arrived in Schwerin one question only burned on my lips, and yet I did not dare put it to my uncle who fetched me from the station. For the new Naval List of autumn promotions and appointments might be issued any day, and I was on the tiptoe of expectation as to whether the wish I had cherished for years was at last to be gratified. My uncle’s question: “Do you know where they’ve put you?” gave me an electric shock. “No.” “Well, then, hearty congratulations—Naval Flying Corps!” I was so overjoyed that I would like to have turned a somersault in the middle of the street, but I refrained from fear of upsetting my fellow-citizens. So I had got my wish after all! The last days of my leave passed in a flash, and I gaily returned to the Naval College in order to complete my course of a year and a half as Inspecting Officer; but I never packed my trunks with greater pleasure than when bound for my new destination. Just a few days before my departure one of my brother officers called out to me: “I say, have you heard the latest news where you’re off to?” “Yes; Flying Corps.” “Good Lord, man! You don’t know your own luck—why, you’re off to Kiao-Chow.” I was speechless, and probably looked as stupid as I felt. “Yes; Kiao-Chow! And in the Flying Corps! You lucky devil—to be the First Naval Flying Officer at Kiao-Chow!” It is hardly surprising that I refused to believe this until I received the official confirmation. But it was true. I had tremendous luck! I had to wait three months longer at Kiel; but at last, on the 1st of January 1914, I found myself in my beloved Berlin. But there was no holding me; I was at Johannisthal on the 2nd of January already, and thought I could start flying on the spot. My experience, however, was that of the majority of flying-pupils. I learnt for the first time the time-honoured principle of flight: “Keep cool; who wants to fly must above all things learn to wait.” Wait, wait, and once more wait. Eighty per cent of the science of flying consists in waiting and holding oneself in readiness. Winter had come and covered the aerodrome with a deep, white carpet, making flying impossible. For weeks every morning I had the hope that the snow would melt at last, and every afternoon I returned home disappointed. In February at last the weather changed. On the 1st of February I sat happily in my Taube, and for the first time rose into the glorious clear winter air. It was beautiful now; and every day our schooling progressed. Flying suited me, and I grasped it quickly. And I was very proud that on the third day I was allowed to fly alone. Two days later, on a beautiful Saturday afternoon, my untiring instructor, Werner Wieting, asked me whether I would not care to create a nice little record by passing my examination as pilot. I enthusiastically agreed.