e petrol union, and expended itself on the chocolate
tin.

Soon our attention was attracted to several French machines that were
passing through a barrage of Archie bursts. The bombardment of an
aeroplane arouses only the sporting instinct of the average soldier. His
interest, though keen, is directed towards the quality of the shooting
and the distance of the shells for their target; his attitude when
watching a pigeon-shoot would be much the same. But an airman has
experience of what the aeroplane crews must be going through, and his
thought is all for them. He knows that dull, loud cough of an Archie
shell, the hiss of a flying fragment, the wicked black puffs that creep
towards their mark and follow it, no matter where the pilot may swerve.
Should a friendly machine tumble to earth after that rare occurrence, a
direct hit, all the sensations of an uncontrolled nose-dive are
suggested to his senses. He hears the shriek of the up-rushing air,
feels the helpless terror. It hurts him to know that he is powerless to
save a friend from certain death. He cannot even withdraw his eyes from
the falling craft. I was glad we had not viewed the disaster while we
were in the air, for nothing is more unnerving than to see another
machine crumbled up by a direct hit when Archie is firing at yourself.

"Me," said a French gunner by my side, "I prefer the artillery." With
which sentiment I have often agreed when dodging Archie, though at every
other time I prefer the Flying Corps work to all other kinds of
fighting.

V. disappeared to phone the Squadron Commander, and I was left with the
crippled bus and the crowd of Frenchmen. The poilus questioned me on
subjects ranging from the customary length of a British officer's
moustache to the possible length of the war. Yes, we had been hit in a
fight with Boche aeroplanes. Yes, there had also been a slight fire on
board. Yes, I had great fear at the time. Yes, I would accept a
cigarette with pleasure. No, it was untrue that England contained four
million civilian _embusques_ of military age. No, the report that
officers of the British Flying Corps received fifty francs a day was
inaccurate, unfortunately. But no, my good-for-nothing opinion was that
we should not finish the Boche within a year; and so on.

"How is it," said one man in faded uniform, "that the British always
manage to keep themselves correct and shaven?"

"La barbe!" interrupted another; "the Tommies don't keep clean