The next morning I started out soon after sunrise to walk out to the aviation-field. Everywhere, above the streets of Toul, there were posters which read "Cave Voutée," and with the number of persons, varying from fifteen to sixty, who could be accommodated. These cellars were protected with sand-bags and were located at convenient intervals, so that the people might find shelter quickly whenever the German aeroplanes made their appearance. Only a few days previous to my arrival there had been a raid, yet everything seemed normal and the housewives went about their marketing and shopping as if they had nothing else to think about. An hour’s walk brought me to my escadrille, F-44. I was barely in time. Orders had just been received transferring it to the Verdun sector and preparations to move camp were already under way. Every one went to work with a will, laughing and jumping around in a sort of war-dance. No wonder they were happy. They—we, I should say, for I was now one of them—were about to become participants in the world’s greatest defensive battle. [Illustration: A German aeroplane brought down by a French aeroplane. The smoke is from the German machine, which the aviator has set fire to upon being brought down. The French machine can be seen to the right, its wing broken by a bad landing. The small dots in the center are French soldiers. The white lines are the French third-line trenches. The French pilot with his German prisoner (insert).] The aeroplanes started for Bar-le-Duc "by air" shortly after noon. One pilot and myself, however, had to make the journey by rail. My own machine had not yet arrived, and his had been smashed up the day before. When the German raiders came over Toul he had gone up with the defending aeroplanes, and had brought down an aviatik which he had engaged. It is customary for a pilot, when driven down in the enemy’s territory to set fire to his machine to prevent it from falling into the hands of his adversaries. This the German proceeded to do the moment he touched ground. My friend was frantic to prevent this and tried to make a quick landing in order to get to him in time. He was too excited, however, and smashed one of the wings of his own machine during the landing. This occurred just behind the French third-line trenches. The soldiers rushed out and made the German pilot a prisoner, but not until after he had applied the match to his gasolene-tank. *IN THE VERDUN SECTOR* At Bar-le-Duc I felt again the suppressed excitement of the near-front. Everywhere were "Cave Voutée" signs, troops were in motion on all sides, sentries were posted at every street-corner, every one seemed to be in a hurry to get somewhere.