My Troubles With Time by Benson Grayson Page B

two nations.”
    Trochu nodded approvingly. “I think that can be arranged,” he said. He turned to one of his staff seated at the table and instructed him to summon a photographer. As the officer left the room, Trochu resumed polite conversation with me.
    I was surprised that he could spend so much time entertaining me till he stood and beckoned me to join him at the map stand.
    “Tell me, Colonel,” he said, “You have flown over the German lines. Can you suggest any way in which I can improve our defenses?”
    It was obvious to me that Trochu’s desire to ask me this question was the reason for my invitation. I wondered about the propriety of Trochu’s request. I was, after all, purportedly a visitor from a neutral nation. Still, I had to admit that the position of the Paris garrison was exceedingly difficult and that had our positions been reversed, I would have sought his assistance.
    “Well, general,” I began searching for something I could suggest, “Have you thought of air power? In the late American civil war, hot air balloons were used for observation and signaling with favorable results. I would recommend that you use balloons stationed over your lines and secured to the ground by ropes as elevated artillery positions. Marksmen in the balloons could then fire on the Germans.”
    As I said this I hoped it would not irritate Trochu. I needed his cooperation to obtain the photograph I required. At the same time, I prayed that my suggestion would not prove practicable for the French to implement. The last thing I need was to return to my own time to find out that my presence in Paris had caused a significant change in the outcome of the Franco-Prussian War.
    Trochu thought for a moment and then smiled. “That’s a brilliant idea.” He said. “I will implement it today.”
    The general suddenly arose from the table. I thought he was about to commence work on the balloons immediately, but I was wrong. He led me out of the room and down the corridor to the door. There he donned his hat, given to him by an orderly, and put on his dress sword.
    I followed Trochu out into the courtyard of his headquarters. Gathered there were some half dozen of his subordinates, all wearing hats and with their dress swords, standing around stools that had been placed in a row. Some yards to their front a photographer crouched behind a large wooden box mounted on a tripod. I realized that this was the 1870 version of a camera.
    The general walked to the stool in the center of the row, sat down, and motioned to me to take the stool on his right. “I regret,” he said, as the other officers seated themselves, “That some of my staff are occupied by urgent matters and cannot join us for the photograph. I hope you will forgive their absence.”
    I nodded sympathetically, and placed my hand over my vacant scabbard, hoping that Trochu had not noticed it. The photographer warned us to be ready and then proceeded to take the photographs. I was astonished at how long we had to sit motionless, as the glass photographic plates were exposed.
    When the last photograph was taken, we stood. I breathed a sigh of relief. The photo showing me with Trochu and his staff, would be the proof I needed that my time machine really worked.
    “General.” I asked, “How long will it take for me to get a copy of the photograph?”
    Trochu turned to the photographer, who was carefully packing the photographic plates, and inquired. After prolonged discussion which I could not follow, Trochu turned to me.
    “The photographer will start work developing the picture as soon as he gets back to his studio,” he said. “However, he is uncertain that he has enough of the developing compounds. The siege, you know.”
    My disappointment over a possible delay in securing the photograph must have shown on my face.
    “Do not worry, Colonel,” he added reassuringly. The photographer understands that you must leave Paris as soon as possible and will do his best