There were present between twenty or thirty officers. Some, just back from a desperate errand across the enemy's lines, were still wearing their yellow-leather flying-coats, and, while watching the struggle between two of their chums, were warming their benumbed hands at the stove. Others, about to fly, were similarly attired. Others, off duty for a very limited space of time, were rigged out in a medley of garments culminating in British warms and much-soiled trench-coats. All were smoking cigarettes of a brand known throughout the British army and Royal Air Force as "gaspers", and, judging from the buzz of conversation, their thoughts were far away from the war, despite the fact that the forefront of the much-advertised Hun offensive was now but a few miles off and was still advancing.
"Blow in!" was Derek's newly-found friend's invitation. "Blow in, and make yourself at home. Sling your gear over there,"—indicating a small mountain of thrown-off coats—"sorry there's no clothes-rack. Last time Jerry came over here dropping eggs our mess-room got it. We haven't replaced camp equipment yet. Hallo! No dinner ready yet? What's up with the messman this evening?"
Just then an orderly stepped briskly into the room, and, saluting, delivered a sealed envelope to a small, undersized youngster whose badges of rank proclaimed him to be a major. Although barely twenty-four this officer was a senior major, and wore across his right breast a double row of ribbons belonging to much-prized distinctions. In addition he had "put up" three wound-stripes.
Almost languidly the Major opened the envelope. It was about the fiftieth he had received that day. Then, dismissing the orderly, he strode across the room and pinned the contents to the notice-board.
"Urgent, you fellows!"
Bedlam ceased. The combatants broke away, and arm in arm joined in the throng around the board.
It was an order from the General Officer Commanding, briefly stating that the enemy was still advancing in force and the squadron was to attack by low-flying machine-gunnery. "It cannot be expected," concluded the order, "that this work can be performed without considerable loss."
Brief and to the point. The officers read it carefully. There was silence in the room. Everyone knew what the work entailed. Some, perhaps many of them now present, would go and not return. The already heavy casualty list of the R.A.F. would be greatly augmented.
"Some stunt this!" remarked a voice. "But I say; what's wrong with dinner? Ring the bell for that messman, somebody."