catch fire, it is
almost impossible to note exactly what has been hit. Even a fire is hard
to locate while one is running away from Archie and perhaps a few
flaming onions.

Fighting machines often accompany the bombing parties as escort. The
fighters guard the bombers until the eggs are dropped, and seize any
chances of a scrap on the way back. It is only thus that I have played a
part in raids, for our squadron does not add bombs to its other
troubles. I will now tell you, my very dear friend, about one such trip.

The morning is clear and filled with sunshine, but a strong westerly
wind is blowing. This will increase our speed on the outward journey,
and so help to make the attack a surprise. Those low-lying banks of
thick white clouds are also favourable to the factor of surprise.

It is just before midday, and we are gathered in a group near the
machines, listening to the flight-commander's final directions.
Punctually at noon the bombers leave the ground, climb to the rendezvous
height, and arrange themselves in formation. The scout machines
constituting the escort proper follow, and rise to a few hundred feet
above the bombers. The whole party circles round the aerodrome until the
signal strips for "Carry on" are laid out on the ground, when it heads
for the lines.

At this point we, the fighting two-seaters, start up and climb to our
allotted height. We are to follow the bombing party and act as a
rearguard until the eggs have fallen. Afterwards, when the others have
finished their little bit and get home to their tea, it will be our
pleasant task to hang about between the lines and the scene of the raid,
and deal with such infuriated Boche pilots as may take the air with some
idea of revenge.

We travel eastwards, keeping well in sight of the bombers. The ridges of
clouds become more numerous, and only through gaps can we see the
trenches and other landmarks. Archie, also, can only see through the
gaps, and, disconcerted by the low clouds, his performance is not so
good as usual. But for a few shells, very wide of the mark, we are not
interrupted, for there are no German craft in sight.

With the powerful wind behind us we are soon over the objective, a large
wood some few miles behind the lines. The wood is reported to be a
favourite bivouac ground, and it is surrounded by Boche aerodromes.

Now the bombers drop below the clouds to a height convenient for their
job. As the wood covers an area of severa