bomb raid. For weeks we had been standing by for this
raid in particular, the object of which was to bomb Douai aerodrome.
This was a particularly warm spot to fly over, for in these days it
was regarded as the home of "Archies" and the latest hostile aircraft.
It is, therefore, not surprising that the general feeling of the
squadron was that the sooner it was over the better for all concerned.
Arrived at the sheds I was relieved to find that I was in good time,
at all events. The machines (two-seater artillery machines, then
commonly known as "Quirks") were lined up on the aerodrome with bomb
racks loaded, their noses to the wind, awaiting the signal to ascend.
I saluted the C.O., waved to a friend or two and climbed into the
pilot's seat of my waiting machine. Then, adjusting the levers, I
signified to the waiting mechanics that I was ready for them to "suck
in" (an operation necessary prior to the starting of the engine).
Having made sure that everything was O.K. and waited for the others to
ascend, I took off and, after climbing steadily for some time, took up
my specified position in the formation. For some time we circled about
over a pre-arranged rendezvous, until joined by an escort of fighting
machines and another squadron of bombers, and then settled down to
business. Flying straight into the sun we soon arrived at and passed
over the irregular spidery lines of trenches (those on Vimy Ridge
showing up particularly clearly), and continued forging ahead, past
many familiar landmarks, always in the direction of Douai. I for one
never dreamt of being taken prisoner and had every intention of making
a record breakfast on my return. My engine was going rather badly, but
the odds were that it would see me through. Only too soon the
anti-aircraft started their harassing fire, throwing up a startling
number of nerve-racking, high explosive shells, each one a curling
black sausage of hate and steel splinters. When we were some way over
my machine lagged behind the rest. The engine spluttered
intermittently and could not be induced to go at all well. As my
machine became more isolated I cast anxious glances about and was soon
rewarded by seeing two wicked little enemy scouts waiting for an easy
prey (at that time they did not usually attack a formation, but waited
behind for the likes o' me). While one scout attracted my attention on
the left and I was engaged in keeping him off by firing occasional
bursts, a machine gun