I can tell you little of the technical branch of this new science, which
has influenced so largely the changing war of the past two years, and
which will play an even greater part in the decisive war of the next
two. All I know is that hundreds of photos are taken every day over
enemy country, that ninety per cent of them are successful, and that the
trained mechanics sometimes produce finished prints twenty minutes
after we have given them our plates.

Moreover, I am not anxious to discuss the subject further, for it is 10
P.M., and at 5 A.M., unless my good angel sends bad weather, I shall be
starting for an offensive patrol over Mossy-Face. Also you don't deserve
even this much, as I have received no correspondence, books, or
pork-pies from you for over a week. In ten minutes' time I shall be
employed on the nightly slaughter of the spiders, earwigs, and moths
that plague my tent.

Good night.

FRANCE, _September_, 1916

V.

THE ARCHIBALD FAMILY.

... You remark on the familiarity with which I speak of Archie, and you
ask for detailed information about his character and habits. Why should
I not treat him with familiarity? If a man calls on you nearly every day
you are entitled to use his Christian name. And if the intimacy be such
that at each visit he tries to punch your head, he becomes more a
brother than a friend.

How, you continue, did a creature so strenuous as the anti-aircraft gun
come by the flippant name of Archie? Well, once upon a time the Boche
A.-A. guns were very young and had all the impetuous inaccuracy incident
to youth. British airmen scarcely knew they were fired at until they saw
the pretty, white puffs in the distance.

One day a pilot noticed some far-away bursts, presumably meant for him.
He was young enough to remember the good old days (you would doubtless
call them the bad old days) when the music-halls produced hearty, if
vulgar, humour, and he murmured "Archibald, certainly not!" The name
clung, and as Archibald the A.-A. gun will go down to posterity. You can
take it or leave it; any way, I cannot think of a better explanation for
the moment.

Archie has since grown up and become sober, calculating, accurate,
relentless, cunning, and deadly mathematical. John or Ernest would now
fit him better, as being more serious, or Wilhelm, as being more
frightful. For Archie is a true apostle of frightfulness. There is no
greater adept at the gentle art of "putting the win