I nearly fell on my observer’s neck, so happy did I feel. The dear old chap had no inkling of the danger in which we had been, and was very surprised when I told him about it. Even now, when I know what flying means, I go cold when I think of this first flight. I soon found out what had happened. The lower part of the carburettor was damaged, and the petrol leaked through the fracture with each throb of the engine. This also explained the rapid sinking of the petrol and the irregular working of the engine. To this day I cannot understand why there was no fire. After spending three days with dear friends in Bremen the new carburettor arrived in Hamburg. Now, we wanted to move on to our next destination—Schwerin in Mecklenburg. On a rainy, stormy afternoon we settled ourselves in our fully equipped aeroplane. I started the engine and took on full throttle. To-day I would only fly in such weather if I absolutely could not help it. But at that time I was still imbued with all the _naïveté_ and enthusiasm of a young pilot. But we had not long to wait for new developments. The machine, which was too heavily freighted, could not rise—gusts of wind threw it from side to side like a ball—and I would have turned back with pleasure. But at that height it was impossible. And now came the first houses of Hamburg—it was impossible to rise above them. I was flying at 60 metres when I saw a small field. Throttling my engine, I got ready to land, but at the same moment I was caught in a squall and felt the aeroplane slide away under me. The thought went through my mind, “Careful, you are falling!” and I opened up my engine momentarily in order to weaken the shock. But at the same moment I felt a sharp jerk, and the machine stood on its head as if some one were tilting it downwards. What followed only took seconds. I pulled at my lever, shut off the petrol, and at the same time received a sharp, heavy blow. I clutched convulsively at my steering-wheel, and flew into the air, hitting my head against some part of the machine. A deathly silence reigned around me. Deep darkness; from which I was only roused by feeling a stream of pungent liquid pouring over my face. I lay motionless, my head pressed forward, my body huddled together, feet sticking out. But suddenly I realized my position with a start, and, obsessed by the fear of the machine catching fire at any moment, I tried to free myself from my cramped position, until I succeeded in switching off the ignition. At last I gradually regained complete consciousness of my surroundings, and my first thought was for my poor observer. I felt sure that as he sat in front he must have borne the brunt of the first shock and was probably crushed to a pulp, as the fuselage had splintered under the impact. As no sound broke the silence, I gasped at last—for I was so squeezed in that I could hardly breathe: “Strehlchen, are you alive?” A dreadful pause; no answer.