ot returned has used up its supply of petrol and that the
fate of a dear friend will remain unknown perhaps for weeks, perhaps for
all time.

CHAPTER V

SOME EPICS OF NIGHT BOMBING

I

In the summer of 1917 the Germans were rushing troops up to the Ypres
front, where the activities of the British threatened them at this point
in their line. This movement of troops was made at night, as usual,
_because_ if made in daylight they would have been plainly visible to
our reconnaissance and artillery observation squadrons. These troops
were detrained at Menin and were transported by motor lorry along the
Menin-Gelevelt road. On a certain evening the first night-bombing
squadron of the Royal Flying Corps, then situated west of Nieppe Forest,
was ordered to delay in every possible way this movement of enemy
troops. The result must have been satisfactory, for the General in
command of the British Army on that front sent us, a few days later, the
glad tidings that no German reinforcements arrived at the critical
moment and all the British objectives had been captured and held.
Whether or not the only night-bombing squadron engaged in that action
was responsible for the tie-up of the Hun transportation system is
problematical, but all the members of the squadron remember that night
and hope that their efforts were of value.

The only thing out of the ordinary that evening in the squadron's
routine was the mounting of double guns in the aeroplanes and an earlier
dinner hour; the dinner, possibly, was gayer than usual. The machines
left the ground in daylight, gained their height over Nieppe Forest and
crossed the lines at dusk, swooped down over Menin Station and dropped
their bombs at an altitude of one thousand to five hundred feet. Then,
nose down, engine "full out," they raced away from Menin and followed,
in the brilliant moonlight, the road to Gelevelt, flying within one
hundred feet of the ground.

A heavy fire at close range at the transports on the road and at the
shadows of the trees cast by the moon, as the case might be, soon
exhausted the drums of ammunition. Each aviator did his level best to
get results, all the time trying to avoid landing on the tree-tops; some
of them did so land; they were shot down by the Huns. As soon as their
ammunition was gone they headed for home and, crossing the lines at a
low altitude, were shot at by anti-aircraft batteries and machine guns
from the ground and "bumped" he