the same touches of snow on the heights. At last, in the cold sunset
light, we draw up at our destination. The wide aerodrome stretches
before us--great hangars coloured so as to escape the notice of a Boche
overhead--with machines of all sizes, rising and landing--coming out of
the hangars, or returning to them for the night. Two of the officers in
charge meet us, and I walk round with them, looking at the various
types--some for fighting, some for observation; and understanding--what
I can! But the spirit of the men--that one can understand. "We are
accumulating, concentrating now, for the summer offensive. Of course the
Germans have been working hard too. They have lots of new and improved
machines. But when the test comes we are confident that we shall down
them again, as we did on the Somme. For us, the all-important thing is
the fighting behind the enemy lines. Our object is to prevent the German
machines from rising at all, to keep them down, while our airmen are
reconnoitering along the fighting line. Awfully dangerous work! Lots
don't come back. But what then? They will have done their job!"

The words were spoken so carelessly that for a few seconds I did not
realise their meaning. But there was that in the expression of the man
who spoke them which showed there was no lack of realisation there. How
often I have recalled them, with a sore heart, in these recent weeks of
heavy losses in the air-service--losses due, I have no doubt, to the
special claims upon it of the German retreat.

The conversation dropped a little, till one of my companions, with a
smile, pointed overhead. Three splendid biplanes were sailing above us,
at a great height, bound south-wards. "Back from the line!" said the
officer beside me, and we watched them till they dipped and disappeared
in the sunset clouds. Then tea and pleasant talk. The young men insist
that D. shall make tea. This visit of two ladies is a unique event. For