happened to be) I confess that I was nonplussed. In the first place, I was at the time innocent of third-degree methods. Secondly, I remembered that, a week or so since, B., myself and another American in the section had written a letter—which, on the advice of the sous-lieutenant who accompanied Vingt-et-Un as translator, we had addressed to the Under-Secretary of State in French Aviation—asking that inasmuch as the American Government was about to take over the Red Cross (which meant that all the Sanitary Sections would be affiliated with the American, and no longer with the French, Army) we three at any rate might be allowed to continue our association with the French by enlisting in l’Esquadrille Lafayette. One of the “dirty Frenchmen” had written the letter for us in the finest language imaginable, from data supplied by ourselves. 

 “You write a letter, your friend and you, for French aviation?” 

 Here I corrected him: there were three of us; and why didn’t he have the third culprit arrested, might I ask? But he ignored this little digression, and wanted to know: Why not American aviation?—to which I answered: “Ah, but as my friend has so often said to me, the French are after all the finest people in the world.” 

 This double-blow stopped Noyon dead, but only for a second. 

 “Did your friend write this letter?”—“No,” I answered truthfully.—“Who did write it?”—“One of the Frenchmen attached to the section.”—“What is his name?”—“I’m sure I don’t know,” I answered; mentally swearing that, whatever might happen to me the scribe should not suffer. “At my urgent request,” I added. 

 Relapsing into French, Monsieur asked me if I would have any hesitation in dropping bombs on Germans? I said no, I wouldn’t. And why did I suppose I was fitted to become aviator? Because, I told him, I weighed 135 pounds and could drive any kind of auto or motorcycle. (I hoped he would make me prove this assertion, in which case I promised myself that I wouldn’t stop till I got to Munich; but no.) 

 “Do you mean to say that my friend was not only trying to avoid serving in the American Army but was contemplating treason as well?” I asked. 

 “Well, that would be it, would it not?” he answered coolly. Then, leaning forward once more, he fired at me: “Why did you write to an official so high?” 

 At this I laughed outright. “Because the excellent sous-lieutenant who translated when Mr. 

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