The balloon jerks at the
end of its rope like a runaway calf, and "the resulting nausea makes
sea-sickness seem like a trip to the Crystal Palace."
So I did not go up in that observation balloon on the field of Ypres.
We got out of the car, and trudged after the balloon as it was carried
to its new position by many soldiers. We stood by as it rose again
above the tree tops, the rope and the telephone wire hanging beneath
it. But what the observers saw that afternoon from their horizontal
bar I do not yet know--trenches, of course. But trenches are
interesting in this war only when their occupants have left them and
started forward. Batteries and ammunition trains, probably, the latter
crawling along the enemy's roads. But both of these can be better and
more easily located by aeroplanes.
The usefulness of the captive balloon in this war is doubtful. It
serves, at the best, to take the place of an elevation of land in this
flat country, is a large and tempting target, and can serve only on
very clear days, when there is no ground mist--a difficult thing to
achieve in Flanders.
We were getting closer to the front all the time. As the automobile
jolted on, drawing out for transports, for ambulances and ammunition
wagons, the two French officers spoke of the heroism of their men.
Pages:
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226