he roar of the wind I heard a
bang behind me, and looking round saw, hanging in the air, a ball of
thick black smoke. Then there was another beneath us and some more at
one side. In all, the Germans followed us with six shells. Johnny
turned round and shouted, asking me how I felt. "Splendid", I said,
for I really did enjoy the novelty of the experience. Many times have
I looked up into the clouds and seen a machine followed by "Archies"
and wondered what it felt like to be up there, and now I knew. One
phrase however, which I had often read in the newspapers kept ringing
in my ears--"Struck the petrol tank and the machine came down in
flames." And the last verse of "Nearer my God to Thee," also ran
through my head, "Or if on joyful wing upwards I fly." We turned now
to the right and flew over Vimy Ridge, and then made two or three
turns round Lievin where, above his battery, I dropped the letter for
my son. It was delivered to him two weeks afterwards in a hospital in
London. We flew out over Lens and crossed the German lines again,
skirting the district which the Germans had flooded and then turned
our faces homewards. Above the Chateau at Villers Chatel, I dropped
the red smoke bomb. We circled round in the air at a great height
while I wrote on a piece of paper, "Canon Scott drops his blessing
from the clouds on 1st Canadian Divisional Headquarters," and put (p. 264)
it in the little pocket of leaded streamers. Alas, it was lost in a
wheat field and so did not do them any more good than the other blessings
I have dropped upon them. We then turned to Berles where I could see
beneath me the old house and the tiny beings in white playing tennis
on the court. We reached the aerodrome at Izel-les-Hameaux and landed
safely after being in the air for fifty-five minutes. It was a most
delightful experience for a non-combatant. The next day the engine of
the machine gave out and Johnny Johnson was compelled to make a forced
landing. Luckily it was behind our lines. I went several times again
to try to have another flight, but from the excuses made I inferred
that joy-rides of this description had been banned. The following year
in London I heard by accident that poor Johnny Johnson had been killed
a few weeks after our trip. He was a splendid young fellow and
absolutely without fear. May his brave soul rest in peace.

Nearly two months had passed since we had been in the line, and the
Germans had made no attack. We wondered