12 
LAIN LI & WATtiK 
JL>ecember ifs, it^iy 
don't ihink in ternT^ of men bilt .of targets, especially struc- 
tural targets. 
Thus meditating I took out my cigarette-ca.se. 
" Put it back, please," said the pilot hastily. " This 
isn't a smoking compartment." And he pointed overhead. 
There was nothing to see overhead except the delicate fabric 
of the balloon. .\nd then I suddenly remembered that gaS: 
1 had no desire to go up "to heaven — or down to earth^in a 
cliariot of tire like the prophet. So I put it back. 
"We haven't got any parachutes, you see," he ex- 
])lained apologetically. He spoke as though it were the most 
natural thing in the world to take a leap out of a balloon with 
a closed umbrella tliat might never open. " If anything 
went wrong we should be done." 
This interlude provoked liim to a most unfeeling strain 
of reminiscence : " When I was learning flying nt the W 
aerodrome — before I got my transfer to the Balloon Wing — 
there was a Russian cliap, a learner. He went ' solo ' and 
had a smasii. They took up seven basketfuls. The difficulty 
was to bury him." 
" \\'hy not a sack ? " I said. It sounds a callous conversa- 
tion, but after all there's only one way of looking at it if you 
want to keep j-our nerve. You must laugh at it. 
" Oh ! I don't mean that. 1 mean the Burial Service, 
Rites of Holy Church and all that kind of thing. You sec a 
K'ussian can't be properly buried without incense and no end of 
ritual. Well, they discovered a Russian priest in the uniform 
of a Canadian padre. At least he said he was. Perhaps he 
was an.xioUs to oblige." 
■ But what about the incense ? " 
" I'm coming to that. Some bright youth said he'd look 
after that— which relieved the CO. mightily as he was anxious 
to do the correct thing and impress the feilow-country-men of 
the deceased. Very important to keep on good terms with 
Russia just then, you know ! . . . There was a great 
turn-out. The padre chanted away like a gramophone — and 
a N.C.O. duly lighted the sacred lire. Everybody sniffed. 
' There's something verj' famiUar about that smell,' whispered 
the CO. to me. ' Ver>- familiar.' And he sniffed like a fox- 
terrier. 'I have it. sir,' I said, ' it's tobacco.' And so it 
was. The X.C.O. had also contributed some packets of 
woodbines — like the widow's mite — which was rather decent 
of him when j,-ou come to think of it. And before the padre, 
iiad finished I heard the sergeant say in a stentorian voice — 
' Collect the empties.' " 
"It sounds -a bit blasphemous," I remarked. 
" Well, anyhow it was a good brand," said the pilot piously-. 
" It was John Cotton. " 
The air seemed fresher. I looked at the aneroid ; we had 
risen to 3,000 feet. The little red bubble in the statoscope, 
looking like a drop of coagulated blood or what the bacteriolo- 
gists call a " smear," which alternately solidified and liquified, 
was crawling to the right— a sure sign that we were still 
ascending. Periodically one of the learners shook out the 
rontents of a sandbag which descended like pepper. We had 
a steady S.E. wind behind us, and we made out our course by 
observation of the roads and railways, checking them off on 
our map with the aid of a compass. The mist had cleared 
and 1 saw that we had left the city far behind us. We passed 
over woods and forests, their tops looking like a bed of 
asparagus ; we sailed over growing crops of cereals, still 
green (it was early August), resembhng, after the heavy 
storms, nothing so much as a cushion of green plush all rubbed 
the wrong way. " Barley," said the pilot. " And that's 
corn " ; he pointed to a beaten field ; I seemed to be looking 
ilown at a rough plaster-cast in yellow clay. From far 
l)elow us came a continuous hum and a large beetle appeared 
to be racing along the road at a tremendous speed. 
" A motor-cyclist," said the pilot. Again I felt that 
lethal instinct. To aim a bomb at a rapidly moving target — 
" short ! " " over 1 " " hit ! " Undeniably there was a sport- 
ing element in it. 
'■ We're beating him." said the pilot. Yet our motion 
was imperceptible. We seemed to hang in the ether like 
a lonely planet. . 
We picked oiit one feature after another with the aid of our 
map. It was like doing a puzzle. Aerial observation has a 
fascination of its own. Introduce an element of " camou- 
flage " into it.-^uch as a screened battery, and you're back 
at the old nursery game of " Puzzle. Find the Woodman." 
There is much to be said for an aerial life. It's clean, which 
is more than you can say of the trenches, and invigorating. 
And if you get " knocked out " — well, it's all over in no time. 
" It's about tea-time." said the pilot, and he pulled a rope. 
I wondered if it was to summon the waiter. Then he let go. 
'ibere was a loud clap. 
" The valve," he explained. It may have been, but more 
of that later on. A shower of tiny '-halk-like crystals descended 
on us from the interior of the balloon, as though some chemical 
change was going on up there. Sometimes the valve-rope 
catches. Tiien yon climb up inside the ring. At least you 
do if you can tfiink of nothing better. Personal!}', I would 
rather not. 
He pulled again at.intervals, and one of the others paid out 
some 300 feet of drag-rope. As we descended, the rope 
touched the ground, and I watched tlie deep furrow it made 
in the grass — the aftermath of a liayfield. There was some- 
thing uncanny about that rope. As we crossed a park of 
' elms, having thrown out ballast to clear it, the rope rose from 
the ground, jumped the park fence, climbed the trees and 
followed us across their fan-like tops like an animated thing. 
An enormous serpent seemed to be following us with diabolical 
persistency, hissing as it brushed the trees. We passed a 
gabled manor-house with tall chimneys and having cleared 
the park threw out the grapnel. By this time the smootli full 
cheek of the balloon was beginning to crinkle and pucker like 
a rubicund countenance that has suddenly been stricken with 
senile decay. The pilot pulled the " rip " rope, opening a 
panel to the top of the balloon, and we came down with a 
bump. 
We bounced, bumped, and bounced yet again. I found my 
head and shoulders caught in a snare of collapsing tackle with 
the balloon heaving Hke a wounded bird above us. 
" \^'ill you take tea or coffee, sir ? " 
I looked up, like a mouse caught in a trap, and I found 
myself staring into the face of a housemaid in cap and ribbons 
who was peering o\'cr the car in a state of wide-eyed excitfe- 
ment. 
" I think we'll get out first," I said, struggling hke Samson 
with seven green withes. I was not yet feeling quite terres- 
trial and I had a vague idea that the waiter had answered the 
bell. 
" Her ladyship saw you commg over the park," said the 
housemaid, by way of explanation. " And she sent me out 
and said, she said, " If they're not Germans, ask them if they'll 
have tea or coffee ? But if they're Germans, send for the 
police at once.' " . 
" Be they Germans or bain't they ? " I heard a masculine 
voice behind the housemaid. " Because if they be " 
" Put that gun dowif. you silly old ass," shouted the pilot, 
with his head in a noose. " What the hell do vou damned 
well mean by " 
Tliey be ?:nghsh all riglit, .Jarge," said another voice 
reassunngly. " Cassn't thee tell by the way they talk ? 
That's good edicatcd English." 
" Aye, 'tis Jacob, depend on it, 'tis. No German Hun 
could talk such beautiful Enghsh. I'll take my gospel oath 
on it. The gentleman hcv' a very proper gift of speaking." 
A number of heads seemed suddenly to appear from 
nowhere in a circle around us. An aged man, holding a gun, 
looked over the side of the basket as though he were inspecting 
pigs in a netted cart. 
" Beg your pardon, gentlemen," he said, in a tone in which 
he strove manfully to conceal his disappointment. 
" Don't mention it," said our pilot, jxilitely, as we ex- 
tricated ourselves and clambered out of the basket. " Got a 
horse and cart anywhere ? Good. You men, there, you can 
help us flatten her out. Xo, no, hke this. Start at each 
end and roll her up." 
They all set to, kneading the collapsed balloon as they 
squeezed the gas out of her billowy folds. 
" It do just seem hke holding down a pig at kimng-time," 
said one of them pensively. "What a girt chitterling it 
It s the way mother makes dough," whispered one child to 
another, as she stood round looking at us with a finger in her 
mouth. The men rolled the fabric over and over, crushing 
the pink clover and sulphur-coloured toad-flax beneath it. 
In a few minutes our ballon was packed up in a green canvas 
iiold-all little bigger than a kit-bag. to the no small astonish- 
ment of those who had witnessed her descent. Canvas bag 
and basket were hoisted into the cart with directions to drive 
,, ~~; ^^^ nearest railway station, some six miles away. 
Ihank you, madam, we 11 take tea," said our pilot as we 
entered the house. 
" I'm afraid it's a little strong." she said, graciously. " It's 
been waiting some time for you." 
I remembered that" the pilot had pulled a mysterious rope 
about tea-time. - ^ 
I'm not in theR.F.C But I hear that their methods of 
aerial communication are very wonderful. 
Copies of "The British Firing Line Portfolio'- 
containing a series of Engravings in Colour by Captain 
Handley-Read and forming a wonderful record of the 
Battle-area, may be obtained, price 5 guineas each, 
from the Leicester Galleries, Leicester Square, W. 
