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Lieut. Bensen Pilot, and Lieut. Bates Observer, also got much valuable information regarding the area from which the Boche retreated.

On November 3rd, Capt. Coyle Pilot, and Lieut. Easterbrook, Observer, went up on reconnaissance at 3:00 o'clock in the afternoon, when visibility was very poor, owing to a thick ground haze and approaching darkness; Lieut. Easterbrook's story of the mission follows:

"Before the armistice was signed I was able to call myself an "Ace". This may seem like a joke, but it must be remembered that aerial observers are not supposed to be aces at all. Look at the Quartermaster's allotment books and you will find no entry after "Aces, Observers."

By November 3rd the Americans fighting in the Argonne had crumpled the Kriemhilde line, after a month and a week of persistent plugging, during which they seemed to be getting no where. They were reaping the fruits of that "battle month" and were advancing, not by yards, but by kilometers; and ahead of them, busier than ever before, were our planes, trying to find out jsut what this half-routed enemy was trying to do.

"It was on such a mission that Captain Arthur Coyle and myself were sent. We picked up our troops, entrenched in shell holes with patrols advancing into the woods. Then going northeast I saw about 30 Boche retreating into a town. I fired about 50 rounds at them and they ran in all directions. As we flew over the town there was a company of Germans in the main street and I fired about eighty rounds at them and they also ran for cover, but several never went further into Germany. We saw several convoys and also artillery retreating, which we shot up, killing men and horses, and turning over wagons and guns.

About this time four Fokkers that were covering German retreat, dropped down on us; we had had our fun and now it was their turn. Four against one is nothing to be overjoyed about, especially when it is at fifty meters altitude and some twenty kilometers in Germany. I began firing at them, and the pilot headed towards home, at the same time gaining altitude; but it was useless, as the Huns had position on us and we were cut off in no time. The only thing left for Lieut. Coyle was to maneuver his ship so as to make it hard for the Huns, and at the same time give up good shooting position.

On giving one of the Fokkers a burst of ten, my left gun jammed and my right gun had but four shots left in it, as I had been using it freely on the retreating artillery. (I forgot to mention that Capt. Coyle's gun jammed while diving on a retreating battery just before the Fokkers jumped us.) so there was nothing for me to do but take what was coming to us and try and fix my guns, knowing this was our only chance.

The Fokker quartet noticed that I had stopped shooting and so they closed in, one coming so close that I expected every second for him to crash into us and both planes go down together. Tracer bullets were going by me like sparks from a dirty chimney but I was busy fixing my guns. One bullet grazed my cheek, drawing blood another shot off my ear tube about three inches from my head, another hit my wireless key, and goodness knows how many more were as close. But once the jam was cleared and new drums of ammunition were on, the guns were able to talk again. They spoke directly to one of the Fokkers just as he banked to keep from crashing into us, he pitched down and crashed in a condition scarcely fit to be turned over to the Allies.

For a few seconds I had an opportunity to breathe, and it's a good thing I did for I could smell gasoline very strongly. Looking at the gas tank I saw that it had been badly hit and in spite of several G.O.'s to the contrary, it was coming streams and giving precious essence away to the whole countryside. It had four sizeable bullet holes in it.