I am here at last. Where that is, however, I can’t tell you.... We had a good journey, but while I was snoozing the carriage door--which must have been carelessly shut by one of our men--opened, and one of my field boots departed. I had taken them off so as to sleep better. I told a police corporal at the next station, and he is trying to get it. I had to put on puttees and boots, and pack the odd field boot.... You would hardly believe we were on Active Service here, although we are, of course, within hearing of the big guns. There is a stream near by where we can bathe. We have sleeping-huts fitted with electric light, nice beds, a good mess, and a passable aerodrome. The fellows all seem nice, too. I have met three of our squadron before. * * * * * I have been up several times, but have not had a job yet. I have been learning the district, and how to land and rise on cinder paths ten feet wide. The ground here is rather rough, and it speaks well for our under-carriages that they stand up to it so well. A good landing is a bounce of about twenty feet into the air, and a diminuendo of bounces, like a grasshopper--until you pull up. A fairly bad landing is a bounce of fifty feet and diminuendo. Every one here is cheerful, and thinks flying is a gentleman’s game, and infinitely better than the trenches; when your work is over for the day, there is no more anxiety until your next turn comes round, for you can read and sleep out of range of the enemy’s guns. What a pity the whole war could not be conducted like that, both sides out of range of each other’s guns all the time! One of our more cheerful optimists feels sure the war will end in the next four or five years. My field boot has turned up, much to my surprise. It was forwarded on to me by our local Railway Transport Officer. We are having quite a good time in our squadron and are rejoicing in bad weather. Our messing bill is reasonable, and cigarettes and tobacco are very cheap; so are matches. * * * * * I have just been over to get some practice with the Lewis gun. They are rather amusing toys, for you get rid of 100 shots in ten seconds, as you are probably aware.... I took up a mechanic who is a good gunner, to act as an escort to one of our men who was going photographing. The corporal was awfully amusing. He was always getting up and turning round, or kneeling on his seat looking at me and signalling to me. I thought several times he was going to get out and walk along the planes. The flight was quite uneventful. Next time I write I hope to be able to tell you what the trenches are like; at present, owing to low clouds and bad weather, I haven’t been able to look at them. * * * * * [Sidenote: Map study.]