ROYAL AIR FORCE
fortnight had been: men awakened at three in the
morning, flying until nightfall, never landing except
for petrol and ammunition.
"You must have been exhausted/
'We were so tired it was all we could do not to
fall asleep in our machines. . „ . Fortunately, our
Vice Air-Marshal came to inspect us. When he saw
three days' growth of beard on most of us he under-
stood without our saying a word and had pilots sent
out from England to relieve those who couldn't
carry on/
"And the others?"
'We've had a little rest and it'll do. Excitement
keeps you going and this is the most exciting sort of
big-game hunting.'
cAnd what are your losses?3
'They don't really amount to much. We've lost
machines, which have been replaced immediately,
but very few pilots. The bombers have suffered
more than we have. As for the Germans. . . .'
On the outskirts of the wood, in the shade of the
young trees, a mechanic, stripped to the waist had
spread out the Squadron's flag. For every aeroplane
brought down he was painting a tiny black swastika.