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To think of calling this sinister adjunct of warfare a
dove, which among modern peoples has always symbolized peace, seemed a
most terrible bit of sarcasm. As an exquisite essence of irony I saw
but one thing during our week-end in Louvain to match it, and that was a
big van requisitioned from a Cologne florist's shop to use in a baggage
train. It bore on its sides advertisements of potted plants and floral
pieces--and it was loaded to its top with spare ammunition.
Yet, on second thought, I do not believe the Prussians call their war
monoplane a dove by way of satire. The Prussians are a serious-minded
race and never more serious than when they make war, as all the world
now knows.
Three monoplanes buzzed over us, making sawmill sounds, during the next
hour or two. Thereafter, whenever we saw German troops on the march
through a country new to them we looked aloft for the thing with the
droopy wings and the black cross on its yellow abdomen. Sooner or later
it appeared, coming always out of nowhere and vanishing always into
space.


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