Down go the noses of our craft, and we lose height as the leader, with an uneven, tree-bordered road as guide, makes for Doulens. From this town our aerodrome shows up plainly towards the south-west. Soon we shall be in the mess marquee, behind us a completed job, before us a hot breakfast. Life is good. Arrived on land we are met by mechanics, each of whom asks anxiously if his particular bus or engine has behaved well. The observers write their reports, which I take to the Brass Hats at headquarters. This done, I enter the orchard, splash about in a canvas bath, and so to a contented breakfast. Next you will find most of the squadron officers at the aerodrome, seated in deck-chairs and warmed by an early autumn sun. It is the most important moment of the day--the post has just arrived. All letters except the one from His Majesty's impatient Surveyor of Taxes, who threatens to take proceedings "in the district in which you reside," are read and re-read, from "My dearest Bill" to "Yours as ever." Every scrap of news from home has tremendous value. Winkle, the dinky Persian with a penchant for night life, has presented the family with five kittens. Splendid! Lady X., who is, you know, the bosom friend of a certain Minister's wife, says the war will be over by next summer at the _latest_. Splendid again! Life is better than good, it is amusing. Yesterday's London papers have been delivered with the letters. These also are devoured, from light leaders on electoral reform to the serious legends underneath photographs of the Lady Helen Toutechose, Mrs. Alexander Innit, and Miss Margot Rheingold as part-time nurses, canteeners, munitioners, flag-sellers, charity matinee programme sellers, tableaux vivants, and patronesses of the undying arts. Before turning to the latest number of the 'Aeroplane,' our own particular weekly, one wonders idly how the Lady Helen Toutechose and her emulators, amid their strenuous quick-change war-work, find time to be photographed so constantly, assiduously, and distractingly. We pocket our correspondence and tackle the morning's work. Each pilot makes sure that his machine is overhauled, and if necessary, he runs the engine or puts a re-rigged bus through its paces. I am told off to instruct half a dozen officers newly arrived from the trenches on how to become a reliable reconnaissance observer in one week. Several of us perform mysteriously in the workshops, for we are a squadron of many inventors.