I took up some chocolate the other day when I was on patrol, and gave some to the observer in the air, and we munched away for some time. He was a sergeant, one of the ancient observers, and he did not know that when I waggled the joy-stick--thus shaking the ’bus from side to side--I wanted him to turn round. I waggled away for about five minutes, and he sat there quite contentedly, thinking to himself (as he afterwards told me) that it was rather a bumpy day. Then I started switch-backing and he endured that, though on what theory I don’t know. Finally I nearly had to loop him to persuade him to turn round, and when he did so he had a grin on his face and a sort of “Think-you-can-frighten-me-with-your-stunts-you-giddy-kipper” look as well. The newspaper stories of the firing in France being heard in Ireland, the north of Scotland, and Timbuctoo amuse me greatly. Those people must have “some” ears. * * * * * I was most frightfully sorry that you hadn’t received up to Sunday my letter about the postponement of my leave. It must have been a rotten disappointment, and I raged round the camp until I finally simmered down again. Never mind, it won’t be long.... Six people have just invaded my 8 feet by 6 feet hut. That is one of the ways superfine Virginias depart this life quickly. Rescued the inkbottle from an untimely death as a billiard ball, the cue a rolled-up map; violent cussin’, almost worthy of Mother Guttersnipe caused E. to vamoose and the others buzzed off. My dear old ’bus (or aeroplane as the authorities insist on its being called)[11] has gone under at last. One new pilot too many was called upon to fly it, and I may be bringing home a new walking-stick! I have not been flying it for a week now, as I have a nice new--er--machine to fly. But E. and I did all our “hot-air stuff” on the other ’bus, and I looped it. * * * * * The splendid news has come through that my pal B. is “safe and well though a prisoner.” W., who is on leave, wired us. I shan’t write to-morrow, as if all goes well it will be a race between this card and myself to get home first. The very best of love to you. * * * * * III STORM AFTER CALM [Sidenote: Back to Duty.] Back to work and my old friend Archie quickly. I was on bombing yesterday, not very far over the lines though, and there were about ---- of us. It was a wonderfully pretty sight to see the bombs going down in a string, dwindling, and finally disappearing below. Bags of Archie were flying around, but my “machine” was not hit at all. I was first up to-day and we had a non-stop flight of nearly three hours, ranging some batteries. The weather was pretty dud, but W. and I managed all right. S. is missing, as perhaps you have heard. He was on a long bombing stunt. He is reported unhurt and prisoner of war. * * * * *