‘To-day, a German plane did come across our lines, where I was wandering about some old dug-outs and trenches, watching our batteries plug away in a leisurely style, and wondering at the relative quietude of an _off day_ of battle. But that hostile bird was scared back by some of our hawks, and they followed him well into his own country of the sky, with their usual audacity. There is no humbug about all this. On this part of the battle-front we maintain the mastery of the air and blind the enemy’s point of view. It makes all the difference to our artillery, and it is extraordinary to go through the recent history of the Royal Flying Corps and to note how many German batteries have been put under heavy gunfire by aerial registration. It is not easy to knock out a battery by a direct hit. A gun is a small target, and shells may crump it all round and leave it unscathed; but on the laws of luck we have certainly scored many direct hits during the last week or two. Many ammunition dumps and pits have been blown up after aerial reports, as I have seen myself several times, watching the high enduring volumes of black curly smoke.’ Thus we see that the claim of England and her gallant Allies to the supremacy of the air is an established fact. Later, we shall see more closely still how this has been brought about, and that more than can be estimated is due to the individual courage of our heroic aviators. CHAPTER XVII FLIGHT-COMMANDER ALBERT BALL, D.S.O., M.C. Few airmen have a finer record than the young British officer, Flight-Commander Albert Ball, who for a while held a commission in the Notts and Derby Regiment, and later was attached to the Royal Flying Corps with the rank of Flight-Commander. He is a native of Nottingham, and joined the Sherwood Foresters as a private at the outbreak of the war. He has brought down no fewer than twenty-nine German aeroplanes and a Drachen observation balloon. He is only twenty years of age at the time of writing (October, 1916), and is probably one of the smallest flying officers in the service—a small man with great courage. He has black hair, the eyes of a hawk, and a jaw that spells two words—determination and fearlessness. During a brief period of leave in England he had with him two noteworthy mascots—the propeller of the aeroplane in which he brought down fourteen hostile machines, and a mascot in the form of a large red nose-cap of steel. The Germans know this mascot well. Whilst on his visit to England he said that his most ‘sporting fight’ was one in which he and his opponent went at each other for over half an hour. Then, when the ammunition had all gone, the two flew side by side and grinned at one another in mutual admiration. ‘We flew together,’ Lieut. Ball said, ‘in that way for quite a long distance, exchanging air greetings.’