Just now I bid fair to outdo H.’s record of unpleasant stunts, as I nearly had a third within twenty-four hours. The first one was just to whet my appetite, so to speak, but although I only went a few miles over the lines I was Archied the whole blessed time. The Huns must have spent fortunes on Archie in the last week. I hit something with one of my bombs that made a colossal burst--probably some Hun ammunition. Yesterday they started on me just before I got to the lines, and, I think, went on until I was a good ten miles the other side. Then the Archies started from the place I was going to bomb, and clattered away for ages, but they were not nearly so good as those near the lines, as they haven’t got so much practice. There were some wonderfully near shots, and the machine was badly shaken by one which made a most appalling crash just behind the tail. I was horribly scared, of course. I looked round, saw the tail still there, said “Remarkable!” and went on. The Hun aerodrome was a very nice-looking place. It had two landing T’s out--great white strips of sheet, and there was a machine on the ground. I dropped several bombs there, one landing on the road beside the ’drome and one by the landing T. I don’t know if I hit any of the sheds or not, as it was rather cloudy, and I could not see the effect of all my bombs. When I had finished I came back with the wind, nose down, at _some_ pace, and hardly got an Archie at all. I was jolly pleased when it was over, and pleased too (in a way) that I had been, as it really was interesting to be so many miles behind the lines and see their aerodromes, etc. * * * * * [Sidenote: Night Bombing.]