Here is a true story. There was some night flying at one of our aerodromes the other day, and a machine came over and fired a coloured light asking “Can I come down?” The people on the ground fired one in reply meaning “Yes,” and a completely equipped German biplane landed and a guttural German voice was heard shouting for mechanics. He got them all right, but they were R.F.C. and not German mechanics. The coincidence of the signals was extraordinary. The machine--it was an Aviatik--was in perfect order, and has since been flown and tested by the R.F.C. It was wonderfully kind of them to plank their machine down in that aerodrome, and the surprise on both sides must have been extremely comical to watch when the Hun discovered it was an English ’drome, and the mechanics discovered it was a Hun pilot. I know that this is Sunday, as we have had a lot of work to do. I have just come down from my job. I went up at 12.30 and landed at 3.40. Not a bad flight? I was up and down the lines patrolling most of the time. Our escort lost us soon after leaving the ’drome, but it didn’t matter. I got Archied two or three times, but nothing really annoying. They are very clever with those guns. For instance, when I was a mile and a half or perhaps less on our side of the lines they fired Archie on the French side of me, hoping I would turn away from it and so get within better range. They generally let you cross the lines in peace, so as to entice you over as far as possible, and then let you have it hot and strong all the way back.... I have just been to look at the machine. Apparently one of those Archies got nearer than I thought, for a piece of shrapnel has made a 6-inch hole in the tail plane. The shrapnel must have been spent, because it has only pierced the bottom surface of the tail, and has not penetrated the top. I was rather pleased when I found that, as it is something to say that your machine has been hit by Archie. The ping-pong set has arrived. * * * * * I’ll let you know right enough when I want any more garments. Our linen goes off to be washed at any old time, as there are plenty of laundries near here--an old woman, an old wooden bat, and a smooth worn stone by a dirty stream. The stuff comes back wonderfully clean, however. Don’t you worry about my food while night flying. I get that all right; it was a very ’ceptional case the other day. If we have an early stunt we always get hot cocoa and bread-and-butter. But you see, I was orderly pilot that day, and the Huns weren’t polite enough to ring me up the night before and tell me what time they were coming; and so I had to move rather more quickly when they did come. I can get chocolates and biscuits at the Canteen here. This is what you will call another “restful” letter because I have had no flying yesterday or to-day. We rather like bad weather here when it is sufficiently bad.