"The departure had been set for nine o'clock in the morning and, while the pilot has already taken his place in the aeroplane and is trying out his motor, his companion comes out of his tent. The latter wears a wide brown leather coat, a storm cap is drawn deep down over his forehead, a long shawl covers his throat and in order to protect himself against the oil which the motor puffs out during the flight he has covered his eyes with big spectacles. A sergeant with some soldiers carry bombs to the aeroplane and pack them carefully next to the seat of the observer. The latter takes his seat, the motor starts, the propeller turns around quicker and quicker, and at last the pilot waves his arm--the wedges are withdrawn from under the wheels. The plane begins to roll along, lifts itself up from the ground and mounts in elegant spirals higher and higher; smaller and smaller appear men and houses; at last the aerostat shows 3,000 feet; the observer gives a sign and the plane turns in the direction of the enemy. It is comparatively easy to find the way: the railroad tracks which run toward the lines of the enemy serve as a guide; the aeroplane follows them above villages chopped into ruins by gunfire, whose houses look like small toy boxes. Suddenly, dark lines appear which run toward the west: trenches of the enemy which unroll themselves to the observer as if they were on a map. And right away small white clouds arise, the first greetings which the enemy fires toward the aeroplane, but under which the latter rushes by descending quickly.