d lady of Toul, who eventually arrived at our aerodrome in a
donkey cart with the astounding information that one of our planes "had
run out" of petrol and was stalled directly above her house.

CHAPTER III

THE BEDOUINS AT OCHEY AERODROME

If you had visited the Bedouin Squadron at about eleven o'clock in the
morning you would have received quite a shock when entering the
officers' mess. In the first place, you would have found the mess
deserted except for several dogs of unknown species and innumerable
cats,--some proudly nourishing recent offspring, others in various
stages of anticipation of a similar pleasure. Secondly, you would have
been surprised at the comfortable, if not artistic, interior of our
exteriorly unattractive hut. In the centre of the "ward-room" or
sitting-room was an open fireplace of ingenious design. On a stone and
earth base, covered with sheet iron, rested a large cast-iron box with
many peculiarly shaped apertures resembling as far as possible the
incomprehensible design of a lady's lace mouchoir. The fire-box was
supported by four cast-iron "whirly-gigs," the artistic effort of a
mechanic detailed to construct legs for the support of the aforesaid
fire-box. Above this box a large hollow pyramid, the apex of which
connected with a pipe, which in turn after divers wanderings led through
a hole in the roof, offered an exit for the smoke. Needless to say, this
offer was frequently ignored. Around this fireplace was a foot-railing
constructed from the main spar of a crashed Handley-Page. The rest of
the furniture fortunately was not homemade. Large easy-chairs and
lounges, the gift of a friendly merchant of Nancy, often made progress
from one end of the room to the other,--a feat requiring considerable
skill in navigation. A piano was wedged into one corner of the room;
"Sin-fin," a mad Irishman, appeared with this piano one day together
with an exhilarated French officer driving a lorry. No one ever found
out how the piano had been secured, but since a sweet little
"demoiselle" now rides "Sin-fin's" Irish hunters, we may believe, if we
wish, that a rickety piano formed the basis of an international romance.

[Illustration: ENTRANCE TO OFFICERS' MESS]

The walls of the room were draped with rich damask; as the officers'
steward who produced this incongruous luxury was an ex-convict, no
inquiries were made concerning it.

In the same hut with the ward-room and adjoining it was the me