sed to the thunderous accompaniment of the guns, warmed myself with
a cup of hot cocoa, donned flying kit, and hurried to the aerodrome.
There we gathered around C., the patrol leader, who gave us final
instructions about the method of attack. We tested our guns and climbed
into the machines.

By now the east had turned to a light grey with pink smudges from the
forefinger of sunrise. Punctually at five o'clock the order, "Start up!"
passed down the long line of machines. The flight-commander's engine
began a loud metallic roar, then softened as it was throttled down. The
pilot waved his hand, the chocks were pulled from under the wheels, and
the machine moved forward. The throttle was again opened full out as the
bus raced into the wind until flying speed had been attained, when it
skimmed gently from the ground. We followed, and carried out the
rendezvous at 3000 feet.

The morning light increased every minute, and the grey of the sky was
merging into blue. The faint, hovering ground-mist was not sufficient to
screen our landmarks. The country below was a shadowy patchwork of
coloured pieces. The woods, fantastic shapes of dark green, stood out
strongly from the mosaic of brown and green fields. The pattern was
divided and subdivided by the straight, poplar-bordered roads peculiar
to France.

We passed on to the dirty strip of wilderness which is the actual front.
The battered villages and disorderly ruins looked like hieroglyphics
traced on wet sand. A sea of smoke rolled over the ground for miles. It
was a by-product of one of the most terrific bombardments in the history
of trench warfare. Through it hundreds of gun-flashes twinkled, like the
lights of a Chinese garden.

Having reached a height of 12,000 feet, we crossed the trenches south of
Bapaume. As the danger that stray bullets might fall on friends no
longer existed, pilots and observers fired a few rounds into space to
make sure their guns were behaving properly.

Archie began his frightfulness early. He concentrated on the leader's
machine, but the still-dim light spoiled his aim, and many of the bursts
were dotted between the craft behind. I heard the customary _wouff!_
_wouff!_ _wouff!_ followed in one case by the _hs-s-s-s-s_ of passing
fragments. We swerved and dodged to disconcert the gunners. After five
minutes of hide-and-seek, we shook off this group of Archie batteries.

The flight-commander headed for Mossy-Face Wood, scene of many air
bat