For the first few days he is allowed to wander round at his own sweet will, in order to get the hang of things. To him the matter of greatest importance are the machines, for very often he has never even seen an aeroplane at close quarters, and should he be foolish enough to ask absurd questions, he will always find some one ready with a fitting answer. He will be told wondrous stories of the time the machines will remain in the air, the breakneck speed at which they will travel, and of the enormous height to which they will climb. The next most important thing to the actual flying is a thorough knowledge of wireless telegraphy, for without a wireless instrument on board an aeroplane is little better than useless to the army in the field; and, having got the wireless set on board, the pilot or the observer--whosesoever duty it is--must be able to send messages, clearly and distinctly, on the Morse key. A good tip to the youngster thinking of taking up flying for a profession is to buy a copy of the Morse code, and learn it off by heart. Then to get a “buzzer” or a Morse key (both of which can be obtained for the sum of 5_s._ 6_d._), and to teach himself to read by sound. In Service circles the dot and the dash of the Morse code are known as “iddy” and “umpty,” respectively. It is a simple matter to learn to send and to receive wireless signals; but to know how to erect and dismantle a wireless set, and to have a sound knowledge of the theory and the working of the thing, and to be able to take to pieces or to repair at a moment’s notice, any portion of the instrument that may get out of order, is a more difficult matter. That requires several months to acquire, but the “Quirk” will be given a useful, though somewhat “short,” course under an expert wireless operator before he is expected to know these things. At last the great day arrives when he goes for his first trip up aloft. After donning a leather coat, and trousers to match, a skull cap and goggles, he is ready for the fray, and sits himself gingerly beside what at the first seems to him to be a particularly violent and a particularly ill-disposed individual with a simple wonderful flow of language, an instructor in a “box-kite.” Then the engine is set going. The instructor bawls some remark into his ear, which, for the life of him, he cannot catch. A long and rapid journey across the bumpy ground, a weird sensation of rising into space and he is up in the air at last. Then the machine gets into the “bumps”; she dips, and drops, and sways, first to one side and then to the other, until the poor unfortunate individual begins to wonder if he will ever get safely to the ground again. There is a pandemonium of noise. The wind rushes by his face at an alarming rate. He feels himself perspiring all over, and particularly in the palms of his hands. He grips the nearest available object, as a drowning man would clutch at a straw. With every fresh plunge and dip he increases that grip.