Letters From the Front

Dated:

Fort Worth, Texas

Sunday noon

Thursday I was transferred to the 79th squadron and on Friday morning did my cross-country flying. I flew alone from here to camp Burbrook then to Hicks and home. I landed at both places, getting a slip signed. It was rather an interesting trip for the day was clear and I could see far. My outfit worked well and I had no trouble. I passed over an arm of Fort Worth the water was exceptionally green. Returning I flew around the suburbs of Fort Worth. Met a rancher at the hotel and we had supper together, he was quite interesting. Sunday morning I was sent up in a Puffs, and our artillery airship. It was quite an experience. The air was exceptionally bumpy and the wind changeable. I fell into an air hole and got a shaking but righted her before I had dropped 400 feet and as I was at 1500 I was plenty safe. It was the worst hole I had encountered. I had a cranky machine and it kept me busy, managing it, writing my report of what I saw, and running my wireless. It was my first experience with a wireless line stretched away out behind and it affected my plane and made it harder to control. I was up for two hours and 25 minutes buzzing away. My pencil fell overboard and I finished my report by memory. Finally my T came out, my signal to return. I was glad to get away. I was no sooner headed for home than my engine began to miss. I crawled up and found my gasoline tank about empty. I held my altitude and wiggled back over the hangers. I played it safe and did not nose her down till well into the drome. My landing was fast but safe enough. They asked why I landed so far away from my shed. I said nothing but when they saw the indicator on the gas tank it spoke for itself. A chap two beds from mine, fell over the same station that morning and was hurt, but will recover. I could see them wrecking his machine. I have several more tests, such as camera and bombs. 78 squadron always flies, no matter what weather. They are the advanced pupils, the stunt artists and we are required to tackle things which to me a month ago seemed impossible. In one trip a few days ago I had the hood of my engine come loose which short-circuited my spark plugs on one side. I was leading another plane I signaled I was going down and spiraled over a little village, my comrade following. I chose a field to land in but on coming near it found it rough. I managed to jump the fence and landed in a large cotton field without mishap. I was able to signal my follower what was the matter and for him not to land as ground was unfavorable. I repaired the cover with out stopping my engine and took off through the cotton bushes. It was some takeoff, bumpy, shaky and rocky. I left the ground, glad to be away. Then we went on about our business. We returned to the air drome and landed together.

In our practices we pretend we are enemies and try to outmaneuver each other and so strategy and cunning is developed. It was perhaps a bit dangerous but it would be more so later if we were ignorant of how to act. When in formation, we fly close together within a hundred yards or so, often much closer. The boys are all polishing up for a parade at 2 o'clock, and we'll get a lecture on tricks and then be dismissed. I find that more than two hours flying tires me completely out. It must be an awful strain, though we do not notice it when up. My pay is now 50 cents more a day, which makes it about $1.50 a day. If it were not for clothes and cost of kit it would be more than sufficient to keep me going.

Leslie