France
19/5/17

Dearest:

I intended writing to you yesterday but just as I was beginning I was sent away to No.12 Sqdn (Neil Van N's old squadron, by the way) to collect one of our machines which had had a forced landing there earlier in the day. I wasted hours over there and finally had to return by road as the machine wasn’t ready and it was getting dark. Then again this morning I tried to write you a line in time for the mail but fell asleep instead- I have been up since 3 a.m. after getting to bed at 11.0 last night and our early morning show lasted three hours this morning. Please forgive me Dear, It wasn’t for want of thinking of you, Molly Bawn, for you are in my mind a hundred times a day.

After lunch, General Trenchard who is in command of the R.F.C. in France came around to inspect us and now at last I have got settled down under an apple tree covered with blossoms and only need you here beside me to make the world seem a very happy place indeed.

It took me a couple of hours to read through all the letters from home that you forwarded to me yesterday. I am not going to send them all back to you to read because many of than are so out of date now and nothing much in them at that. But I am sending you the interesting ones.

An awfully funny thing happened here this morning. A Hun scout machine lost his way in the clouds and came down over our aerodrome thinking he was somewhere over on the German side. He had got down to a few hundred feet when he noticed our machines on the ground and found out his mistake. Twelve of our scouts got into the air in about as many seconds and when the poor Hun saw what he was up against he came down as fast as he could. He landed a few miles from here crashing his machine rather badly unfortunately. He is at this moment being entertained by Jack Scott’s squadron across the aerodrome. They’ll probably fill him up with "Bubbly" and get him to tell all he knows and after that he’ll be sent to England and will live in comfort for the duration of the war.
.   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .
Always your devoted husband,
Eric.