Another plane was caught in the beam. The anti-aircraft now
had their target, and they lost no time. There came two or three of the
sharp barks so characteristic of anti-aircraft guns, and coincident with
the sound the bursting shells bloomed into great white roses perilously
near the leading plane. It rocked, noticeably, and shifted its course.
Then, seemingly, all the Archies in the countryside, within range and
out of range, began filling that section of the sky with magically
appearing roses that in their blooming sent steel balls and flying
fragments searching the sky.

The upper air was quickly converted into an inferno of bursting shells
and whining missiles of jagged steel. The enemy bombers, due to the
delay caused by McGee's unexpected attack upon the plane whose mission
it had been to drop the ground flares, had now worked themselves into a
rather awkward formation and were faced with the responsibility of
making instant decision whether they should now release their bombs in a
somewhat hit or miss fashion or run for it and individually select some
other spot for depositing their T.N.T. hate as they made their way
homeward.

The embarrassment of their position was but little greater than that of
McGee's. The burning plane offered sufficient light for landing, but it
was also lighting up the hangars and the field, and he momentarily
expected the enemy to let go with their bombs. It would not be pleasant
down there when those whistling messengers began to arrive. His present
position was equally unhealthy, even though he had considerably reduced
his altitude. Any minute--yes, any second--some searchlight crew might
pick him up, and there is never any telling what an excited
anti-aircraft battery crew might do.

McGee made the decision which is always reached by an airman who finds
himself in unhealthy surroundings: he would simply high-tail it away
from there until "the shouting and the tumult" subsided. He swung into
the dark sky to the north and then dived down until he felt that any
less altitude would be extremely likely to bring him afoul of some
church steeple or factory smokestack.

One of the German pilots decided to take a chance and release his bombs.
Their reverberating detonations were terrifying enough, but aside from
the ugly holes they made in the open field, some five hundred yards away
from the 'drome, they accomplished nothing in the balance of warfare.
The other planes, finding the welcom