In
one encounter he fought in a Bleriot machine carrying a mitrailleuse,
and the enemy dropped, riddled with bullets. So completely have some of
the aeroplanes been perforated, without mishap, says the _Daily
Telegraph's_ war correspondent, that the pilots have found a new game.
Each evening after their flights they count the number of bullet holes
in their machine, marking each with a circle in red chalk, so that none
may be included in the next day's total. The record appears to be
thirty-seven holes in one day, and the pilot in question claims to be
the "record man du monde."
Zeppelins have not maintained their reputation in this war. One sailed
over Sir John French's headquarters and indicated the position to the
enemy, but they are no match for the swift and agile aeroplanes. A
wounded dispatch carrier saw one English and two French machines attack
a Zeppelin and bring it down instantly. A half hour's fight with another
is recorded; among the captured passengers in this, according to a
soldier's letter, was a boy of nine. Private Drury, Coldstream Guards,
saw one huge German aeroplane brought to earth, three of its officers
being killed by rifle fire and one badly injured.
There is something strange, mysterious, and insubstantial about the war
in the air that the soldiers do not yet feel or comprehend.
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