The following letter from a German military aviator to his parents is printed in a recent issue of the Brandenburger Zeitung:

“Last Saturday night, while our company still lay in garrison, I received orders to start on a flight into the enemy’s country at daybreak the following morning. The assignment was as follows: From the garrison over a French fortress into France, thence westward to Maas to spy out land for French lines of communication and to fly back the entire distance of 300 kilometers (about 186 miles).

“By way of preparation maps of the whole region were minutely studied till midnight. Next morning at cock-crow our Gotha-Taube rolled across the city square, then rose and headed westerly. In half an hour we had reached an altitude of 1,200 meters (3,937 feet) above the town. Then we headed for the French border, and immediately my observer, First Lieut. A., called my attention to little black puffs of smoke, and I knew at once we were being fired at by hostile artillery, so climbed to 2,000 meters (7,874 feet).

“Next we noticed that three of the enemy’s aeroplanes were pursuing us, but we soon outdistanced and lost sight of them. Later we heard that two of the enemy’s aeroplanes had been brought down by our artillery. Both hands of one of the pilots were said to have been blown away by a shot.

“With a threefold ‘Hurrah!’ we now flew over the border toward a battlefield of the war of 1870-71, which we reached without any further untoward incidents. Here we noticed long columns of troops marching from the south toward the northeast. We circled around the place and then started toward Maas.

“We were now continuously fired upon. I saw, among other things, how a battalion of infantry stopped in the street and aimed at us. Silently and quietly we sat in our Taube and wondered what would happen next. Suddenly I noticed a faint quivering throughout the whole aeroplane; that was all. As I saw later, one of the planes had four holes made by rifle bullets, but without changing our course on we flew.”