On repeating my question, I heard at last: “I say, what has happened? It is quite dark here—something _must_ have happened!” Ah, how glad I was! I shouted with the rest of my strength: “Strehlchen, man, you are still alive—that’s all that matters! What about your bones? Are they whole?” But the poor chap was lying so huddled up that he was only able to gasp: “I don’t know. We’ll see later on.” Again silence supervened. The petrol flowed in a rich stream from the tank, which held its full capacity of 170 litres; but after a time, which seemed an eternity, somebody knocked outside, and a far-away voice floated to where we lay: “Well, anybody still alive?” “Rather,” I called out, “but hurry up, or we shall suffocate in here.” We heard the machine being lifted, then the grating of spades, and at last a current of fresh air blew in on us. “Hold hard!” shouted Strehle. “Try the other way round or you’ll break my arm.” Our helpers followed my instructions, and at last I was lifted clear from my seat, and I lay softly and at ease on an odorous manure heap. Long-legged Strehle promptly clambered out of the debris, and I have rarely shaken hands with more pleasure than with my faithful observer. Dash it all! Things did look bad. The machine had completely toppled over, and was deeply embedded in the soft manure. The fuselage was broken in three places; the planes had turned into a tangled mass of wood, fabric and wire. But we two were safely out of it. Strehle had sprained his back slightly, and I had only broken two ribs. That was all. Never again have I despised a manure heap. May that one and its like flourish for ever. Sadly and limpingly we covered the rest of the return journey by train. After that, however, we enjoyed many days of sunshine and light, full of happy doings and happier memories, which we collected like flowers of rare beauty and bloom. And then duty called, and the real voyage began. CHAPTER II BEAUTIFUL DAYS IN KIAO-CHOW FOR days the train took me farther and farther through the steppes and desert spaces of Russia towards my destination—the Far East. Mukden at last! We soon passed Peking. Then—Osinanfou! The first German sounds again smote upon my ear. And then for ten hours we passed through a beautifully cultivated country full of gardens, fields and flowers; and at last the train slowly steamed into the station of Kiao-Chow. I thus saw it again after six years! Once more I stood on German soil, in a German city of the Far East! My brother officers met me. The Mongolian ponies pranced off and carried me to my new home. At first we went to Iltis Place, which was our race-course, and was at the same time destined to become my aerodrome. It was festively decorated, for all Kiao-Chow had foregathered to watch a big football match between German sailors and their English comrades from the English flagship _Good Hope_. The latter was on a visit at Kiao-Chow, and the game was brilliant and ended in a draw—one all.