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FAREWELL TO BAPAUME 363
who had been in command in Kamerun. The crisp, clear
autumn weather seemed to create the highest of spirits.
Nobody could have imagined that we were almost in contact
with troops engaged in severe fighting, had not the booming
of cannon reminded us of it. Indeed it would have been
difficult to gather an impression of anxiety, nervousness,
hurry or want of officers as one listened to the animated
conversation and contagious laughter of the grey-clad warriors
of Miraumont. One would have thought, on the contrary,
that war was the simplest thing in the world and that the
Germans for the moment at least were not exerting themselves
in the slightest. What they gained, they clearly gained
without difficulty, albeit that for the time being they are
content with merely holding their positions.
Suddenly we got something else to think of, and the familiar
cry, " Deckung ! " rang out across the field. An airman flying
the tricolor was seen to be approaching. The main thing
was to bring the horses as quickly as possible under the shadow
of the willows, but the officers, too, together with their civilian
guest, thought it wisest to withdraw to the nearest avenue of
trees, for had the airman suspected for |a moment that he
could have killed fifty precious birds with one stone, he would
certainly have sacrificed all the bombs in his armoury.
Gradually he came nearer, glided past immediately above us,
but could not have noticed anything, for not a single bomb
burst in our vicinity, and soon the hostile aeroplane dis-
appeared in an east-north-easterly direction. It could almost
be taken for granted that his goal was a certain flying station,
which had recently been favoured with several bombs.
Presently we saw the characteristic little " tufts of wool
"
forming round the airman. They came from nowhere, grew,
and were followed by a flash and a report. They have a
peculiar knack of remaining for a long while at the spot where
they are formed. Hence, as the Frenchman progressed on
his journey and the guns kept firing at him, a little string of
white cloudlets gradually formed in his wake, sharply defined
against the blue background of the sky and pricking out his
track through the air. One of the officers thought that the
firing was almost as dangerous as the bombs, seeing that the
shrapnel bullets must obviously come down sooner or later,
and that when they do, they strike with the velocity and deadly
effect of a rifle bullet.
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