furiously on at full speed. To the onlookers below the German made no effort to escape his peril. The two small fighting-machines crashed together, and telescoped into one compact mass of wreckage, dropping swiftly to earth within the French lines.

Terline had brought down his fourth plane, but would never gain his fifth.

What the name Orville Wright is to America, such is the reputation in France of the celebrated aviator Roland Garros. At present Garros is a prisoner in a Ger

man camp.

Before the war broke out, Garros undoubtedly occupied the most conspicuous position in French aviation among pilots and inventors. Every air contest of importance in Europe found him entered and usually a victor. He was first to fly over the Mediterranean Sea. With Beaumont or Pégoud or Brindejonc de Moulinais, he shared the prizes of the great European circuit, the race from Paris to Rome, from Paris to Madrid, and in 1911 he won the Grand Prix d'Anjou.

At the mobilization of the air forces of France in August, 1914, Roland Garros was in Germany. Scenting the possibility of danger, he did not wait to collect his belongings, but, evading his acquaintances, took the first train to Switzerland and hastened on to Paris.

Upon his arrival he reported for service in the air service, and was attached forthwith to the famous Escadrille N. 23, which then contained besides himself several other celebrated airmen, Eugène Gilbert, Marc Pourpe, Raoul Lufbery, Maxime Lenoire, and Captain de Beauchamp.

During this early phase of war aviation crude methods of air tactics were in vogue. Aircraft were found to be in little danger from gun-fire below, for the percentage of hits was ludicrously low, and they could not mount machine-guns because of the danger of breaking their own propellers with their own bullets.

In February, 1915, after many weeks of patient experimenting, Garros petrified his aëroplane enemies by suddenly appearing among them with his new invention.

He synchronized his machine-gun with his propeller, so that the bullets would issue forth only when the blade of his propeller was out of the way. His success was instant and immense. France immediately set about duplicating his invention upon all her fast fighting machines. It was a decided point of superiority over the GerIn eighteen days Garros brought down five enemy aëroplanes and permanently established a new reputation as the first ace of the world. But, alas! by a strange fatality Roland Garros himself, in June, 1915, fell a prisoner into German hands, and his new device was captured and imitated by the Huns.

mans.

His capture was due primarily to his daring and precise methods in bomb-dropping. He invariably returned from these expeditions crowned with success. Depots, bridges, factories, and supply stations he set on fire and destroyed always by the same exact methods.

Approaching his object at a height of ten or twelve thousand feet, Garros would cut off his motor and descend in circles through the defending shells until his machine was only a hundred feet or so above his target. Pulling back his lever, he released his bombs so near the roof of the building, that a miss was almost impossible. Then switching on his motor, he braved the shots from below and made his perilous way back to camp.

On June 14, 1915, Garros descended upon a convoy of supplies entering Courtrai. He dropped his bombs upon the train with his customary precision from a height of a hundred feet. After watching for a moment the effect of the explosions, he turned on his spark. But the engine did not start. The cylinders were too cold, or perhaps his spark-plug was imperfect. Frantically he worked his throttle and nursed along his machine, endeavoring to put some life into his motor; but it was hopeless. His aëroplane dropped heavily to earth in the very midst of his enemies, and he was made a prisoner before he could even set fire to his machine.

He is still alive, but is carefully guarded

far within the interior of the enemy country. One of his comrades, Pinsard, subsequently suffered the same fate, and occupied the same prison with him; but Pinsard, perhaps less carefully guarded, was later able to make his escape.

Captain Ercole, a young aviator from Naples, Italy, is the hero of one of the saddest stories recounted by the intrepid air pilots of the Italian service. Early one morning in the spring of 1916, Ercole left his side of the Adriatic with a squadron of bomb-dropping Caproni machines to at

Enemy aeroplanes were about, and each pilot waited only to see the effect of his attack before heading for home.

Ercole's machine was the last in line as the returning Italian squadron winged its way swiftly westward. Captain Corbelli, who sat guarding the rear with his machine-gun as they flew homeward, soon notified his companions of the approach of a Fokker fighting-plane from below. Brigadier Mocellin, inexperienced in shooting from aëroplane, signaled Ercole to take the forward gun, and he himself

Ercole looked about him. The Fokker had vanished. Perhaps it, too, had been destroyed. At any rate, it was gone. His own squadron had likewise disappeared in the distance. But why did not Captain Corbelli jump to the controls? Ercole miserably dragged himself back along the floor to investigate. There, to his horror, he found Corbelli lying face up in his seat, a bullet through his heart. The unguided machine was diving to certain destruction.

diers appeared, running toward him. Torn between duty and the horror of the necessary sacrifice, but determined despite his physical suffering to prevent the enemy from securing his aeroplane, Ercole prayed to his slaughtered comrades for a last forgiveness, set fire to the machine, and painfully crawled away to the shelter of some bushes. The Albanian soldiers arrived and surrounded the blazing funeral pyre. They pointed out to one another the two dead men within. When the last flame died away, they shook their heads regretfully and retraced their steps. Ercole's presence was not even suspected.

Ercole crawled back to the pilot's seat and feeble grasped the controls. Almost fainting with pain, he succeeded in straightening out the course of the aeroplane a few hundred feet above the sea. Ahead of him appeared land. It was the only chance. Without knowing where he was headed, he cut off his motor and with one supreme effort negotiated the rough hillside successfully and came to a quiet stop.

Unable to move, Ercole sat patiently in his seat, waiting for help. His two dead

After a week's wandering, with wounds. uncared for, and almost without having tasted food and drink, Captain Ercole appeared one night before an Italian sentry at the border. He was delirious with fever and in a critical condition, but after medical treatment, he was able to tell his remarkable story and describe to his com

rades the mournful end of the two officers, Brigadier Mocellin and Captain Corbelli.

During the first months of the war a Belgian biplane containing pilot and observer experienced motor trouble while behind the German lines and was compelled to come down. Pointing her nose toward home, the two officers hoped against hope that they might glide without power back to their own territory. But it was soon discovered to be useless, for the wind was dead against them.

Leaning over the edges of their cockpits, the Belgians saw the earth rising nearer and nearer, while the speed of their craft continued distressingly slow. Everybody seemed firing at them.

The German trenches appeared, and they crossed them less than thirty feet above the enthusiastic riflemen below. Their own trenches were two hundred yards distant. The machine struck midway in no-man's-land and stopped. Ducking through the hail of bullets, both men succeeded in escaping to their trenches, thanks to their comrades' fire, without a scratch. Unhappily, though, they had had no time to set fire to their machine.

Two days later Captain Jaumotte, the pilot of the stranded aeroplane, learned

that his machine was still there. For two nights the Belgian soldiers had so carefully guarded it that the enemy had been unable to reach or destroy it. Jaumotte determined upon a rescue.

Securing an armored motor-car, Jaumotte took along his two mechanics and two gunners and suddenly appeared in front of the abandoned aëroplane. While the gunners worked their machine-guns, Jaumotte and the two mechanics, protected by the armored car, busied themselves with the disabled engine.

The German soldiers, stupefied by this incredible audacity, could only watch it through their periscopes. Every time a head appeared, the motor - car gunners raked the trench with their machine-guns.

In fifteen minutes the work was completed. Climbing into his seat, Captain Jaumotte signaled the mechanic to turn over the propeller. The engine roared, and with one wave of his hand, the audacious pilot swept away over his own cheering trenches, while the mechanics clambered back into the motor-car with their tools and returned home to their aerodrome.

For this feat Jaumotte received a citation from the Belgian Army.