lake of cloud that only allows the
sky to be seen through rare gaps, and a sixty-mile wind that will fight
us on the outward journey. Under these circumstances we shall probably
find no friendly craft east of the trenches, and, as a consequence,
whatever Hun machines are in the air will be free to deal with our
party. However, since six machines are detailed for the job, I console
myself with the old tag about safety in numbers.

We rise to a height of 3000 feet, and rendezvous there. From the
flight-commander's bus I look back to see how the formation is shaping,
and discover that we number but five, one machine having failed to start
by reason of a dud engine. We circle the aerodrome, waiting for a sixth
bus, but nobody is sent to join us. The "Carry on" signal shows up from
the ground, and we head eastward.

After climbing another fifteen hundred feet, we enter the clouds. It is
now impossible to see more than a yard or two through the intangible
wisps of grey-white vapour that seem to float around us, so that our
formation loses its symmetry, and we become scattered. Arrived in the
clear atmosphere above the clouds my pilot throttles down until the rear
machines have appeared and re-formed. We then continue in the direction
of the trenches, with deep blue infinity above and the unwieldy
cloud-banks below. Familiar landmarks show up from time to time through
holes in the white screen.

Against the violent wind, far stronger than we found it near the ground,
we make laboured progress. Evidently, two of the formation are in
difficulties, for they drop farther and farther behind. Soon one gives
in and turns back, the pilot being unable to maintain pressure for his
petrol supply. I shout the news through the speaking-tube, and hear, in
reply from the flight-commander, a muffled comment, which might be
"Well!" but it is more likely to be something else. Three minutes later
the second bus in trouble turns tail. Its engine has been missing on one
cylinder since the start, and is not in a fit state for a trip over
enemy country. Again I call to the leader, and again hear a word ending
in "ell." The two remaining machines close up, and we continue. Very
suddenly one of them drops out, with a rocker-arm gone. Its nose goes
down, and it glides into the clouds. Yet again I call the
flight-commander's attention to our dwindling numbers, and this time I
cannot mistake the single-syllabled reply. It is a full-throated "Hell!"