Captain de Beauchamps holds the flight record for bombing raids on German towns, but the longest journey made by an Allied aviator during the war was that of Lieutenant Marchal, who visited Berlin on a previous date. He, however, only dropped pamphlets on the German capital, before making off to the Russian frontier. He came down sixty miles within the German lines, having flown over 800 miles. Captain de Beauchamps was accompanied in his great flight to Essen by Lieut. Daucourt, who made at the time some extremely interesting entries in his logbook: ‘11 a.m. My friend Beauchamps has just gone, and I followed two minutes later. One thousand yards up, 2,000-3,000, we keep on getting higher and higher. The weather is clear with just a few clouds over 9,000 feet. The air is distinctly cold. ‘12 a.m. I am full over the Boche lines. We are seen and the anti-aircraft guns start a curtain fire a little forward but too high. The white puffs of the 77 make a line of smoke which I have got to cross. Soon the shots become more and more numerous; 300 shots at least must have been fired in a few minutes. Time after time I get right into the smoke of the bursting shells, and I can hear pieces of steel whistle near, very near. Oh! the Boche gunner rectifies his range. But he is too low now, so I go higher still, and I pass.... Now there are shots on my left, which burst with black smoke, 105 calibre shells. This is getting more serious. Shots get nearer, I point towards the left slightly, and, all of a sudden, I go ninety degrees to the left and drop straight towards the ground for 300 feet. The game is finished and the gunners done. Out of spite they shoot all over the place, and the shells burst now at the back of me. It looks as if I was going to get out of trouble without much difficulty.... Now where is my friend? I cannot see him. Has he been brought down? Has he changed his line? A little under me I can see a big, fat yellow ‘plane. Black crosses! It’s a Boche. Another one follows very near. The distance between us is about 600 feet, but they are slower than I am. Clac—clac—clac. It is Mr. Boche opening fire. The short bursts of his machine-gun keep crepitating. The brute does not shoot badly. Shall I engage him in a fight? It is really very tempting. But no, Essen is my only target, and I have no right to compromise, by a passing engagement, the success of our raid. I open my engine right out, and soon lose my aggressors.... As I fly over Treves I just distinguished on my left the outline of another ‘plane. It is getting nearer and nearer. The sun prevents me from seeing it clearly, although I seem to recognize the silhouette of my companion’s machine. No doubt it is he. I can now see his blue, white and red cocarde. And all of a sudden I feel very happy....