_November 28, 1914._ This morning, our dear Captain had just begun reading the daily orders, when he suddenly exclaimed: "Ah, no, it begins to get on one's nerves! This footbridge is a regular see-saw. We cannot go on being fooled like this!" He threw the paper down on the table and went out of the room. Something was evidently on his nerves. I picked up the paper and read that, contrary to the aviation information received the last few days, there was a footbridge across the Yser, between the milestones 15 and 16, on a level with the petroleum tanks and opposite the "Nacelle." This was the tenth time we had been informed that this bridge existed, and just as many times we had been told that it did not exist. We were first ordered to destroy it with shells and then to stop firing there, as the objective was an imaginary one. This little game had unhinged our Captain, and this morning he was more unhinged than I had ever seen him. When he came back, I saw by his face that it was one of the days of his big decisions. He was extremely reserved, and appeared to have his ideas concentrated on some subject. He did not utter a word and I said to myself, "Either our Captain is going to fulminate a 'note' or he is going to investigate that footbridge himself." I had guessed rightly. He put on his boots and gaiters, placed his Browning behind his hip and his field-glasses in his breast-pocket, took up his cap, and made his exit, without even uttering his famous: "_Au revoir_, my friends."