Our camp looked like a little tented city; there were seven enormous canvas hangars, and grouped about these six other tents, each serving a particular purpose: captain’s office, wireless plant, telephone central, repair-shop, photographic division, and kitchen. At one end of the field were the living-quarters of the captain and the observers, while at the other were parked the thirty automobiles of our two escadrilles. On the opposite sides of the field were the quarters of the pilots of the two escadrilles. The mechanics slept in the hangars with their machines. Considering everything, we were fairly comfortable. The pilots of each escadrille shared two large tents, and in addition each group had a large mess-tent. Inside each sleeping-tent each one of us had a little alcove. Our cots were raised on wooden platforms. At one end we fitted up a shower-bath, for which purpose a gasolene tank punctured with holes proved ideal. Of course, every time you wanted a bath some one had to empty pails of water into the "tank" above you. Our mess—"popotte" they call it in the French army—was very good. We had a regular daily allowance from the government, but this was not always enough to buy all the supplies we needed. We therefore instituted a system of fines, and our treasurer provided our table with a small tin box in lieu of a centrepiece. Bad language or talking "shop" before coffee involved a ten-centime fine, which had to be dropped into the bank at once. This regulation proved a godsend to the mess—and to our conversation. As I was not "disponible," I was sent on several trips with the staff automobile. Its most frequent runs were to the artillery headquarters to deliver photographs of the enemy’s positions. These were situated in a near-by village, within sight of the German trenches. All the roads approaching this place were masked, and the town itself was in ruins. Everywhere sand-bags reinforced the stone walls. The telephone central was a veritable fortress, and continually within the zone of the German artillery "strafes." The life of the officers of the Etat-Major was certainly not an enviable or an easy one. *CO-OPERATING WITH THE ARTILLERY*