he gramophone will be shrilling
"Chalk Farm to Camberwell Green."

FRANCE, _July_, 1916

II.

"ONE OF OUR MACHINES IS MISSING."

--_Official Report._

... Much may be read into the ambiguous word "missing." Applied to a
wife or an actress's jewellery it can mean anything. Applied to a man on
active service it can mean one of three things. He may be dead, he may
be a prisoner, he may be wounded and a prisoner. If he be dead he enters
Valhalla. If he be a prisoner and a wise man he enters a small cheque
for the German Red Cross, as being the quickest way of letting his
bankers and relations know he is alive.

A missing aeroplane no longer exists, in nine cases out of ten. Either
it is lying in pieces on enemy ground, smashed by an uncontrolled fall,
or it was burned by its former tenants when they landed, after finding
it impossible to reach safety. Quite recently my pilot and I nearly had
to do this, but were just able to glide across a small salient. I am
thus qualified to describe a typical series of incidents preceding the
announcement, "one of our machines is missing," and I do so in the hope
that this may interest you, madam, as you flit from town to country,
country to town, and so to bed.

A group of British machines are carrying out a long reconnaissance. So
far nothing has happened to divert the observers from their notes and
sketches, and a pilot congratulates himself that he is on a joy-ride.
Next instant his sixth sense tells him there is something in the air
quite foreign to a joy-ride. And there is. A thousand yards ahead some
eight to twelve machines have appeared. The reconnaissance birds keep to
their course, but all eyes are strained towards the newcomers. Within
ten seconds it is established that they are foes. The observers put
aside note-books and pencils, and finger their machine-guns expectantly.

On come the Germans to dispute the right of way. On go the British, not
seeking a fight, but fully prepared to force a way through. Their job is
to complete the reconnaissance, and not to indulge in superfluous air
duels, but it will take a very great deal to turn them from their path.

Now the aggressors are within 300 yards, and firing opens. When the
fight gets to uncomfortably close quarters the Boches move aside and
follow the reconnaissance party, waiting for an opportunity to surround
stragglers. Finally, some lucky shots by a British observer cause one of
them to land in a dam