XXXVII.
To his Father.
No. 1 Wing, R.N.A.S. B.E.F.
28th July, 1915.
Dear Dad,
Have had a ripping journey back. The country down to Folkestone was just too lovely for words, especially round Ashford. Saw Milverton [the house where he was born] on the way. Had a first-rate crossing, and was met by one of the Rolls [Rolls-Royce car] at Boulogne, so your wire arrived all right. Had lunch at the "Folkestone" before starting back, and then a topping run here. Went out to see the lads at F—— in the evening. Sippe is back again and Baillie in great form. He sends his chin chins, and I gave him yours.
A Hun came over at midnight last night and bombed us. His eight bombs fell nearly a mile away, though.
31st July, 1915.
More excitement. I was due for an anti-aircraft patrol this morning, and just as I was ready, a little before 4.0 a.m., a Hun machine came over and bombed us. Three bombs fell within a hundred yards of me. I went up after him at once, but lost sight of him in the air, so continued the usual patrol. When I got back, I found that six other machines had followed the first, arriving about fifteen minutes after. None of their bombs did any damage at all. They seem determined to strafe this place. A regular cloud of machines goes up after them whenever they appear, but we haven't had much luck as yet.
Expect to be stationed at Dover again in about ten days, for a little while anyhow. The Commander seems to think I don't look fit enough to go out to the Dardanelles. Apparently they are being bowled over with dysentery.