on the bivouacs of the troops in the field, on transport lines, on transport and columns of troops on roads, on all villages within our lines and on other places likely to be used by us as Headquarters, or as assembly-places for troops. The nights were dark, but the airmen were unusually bold and flew very low, while the use of parachute lights of extraordinary brilliance and of considerable duration annulled, in great measure, the disadvantage (from the airman's point of view) of the dark night.
Any member of the Division whose duties took him on to the main roads around La Baraque, Bellenglise, and Magny-la-Fosse during this and the succeeding nights, will vividly recall the disagreeable sensations which passed up and down his spine as he sat in his car, or on the driver's seat of his transport-wagon, or stood in the road in one of the many blocks of traffic. The steady double throb of the “Boche” twin-engined planes was sufficient advertisement of the presence of enemy aircraft in the immediate neighbourhood without the ear-splitting blasts of the warning whistles, barking out their three long blasts from every direction. These latter made many a man whose nerves were not in the best condition long to seize the whistler and screw his neck until he swore never to put lips to whistle again. Suddenly, in one direction or another, a parachute-light would flare out, illuminating the whole countryside, while every man gazed towards the spot where the light was floating slowly downwards, or, if the parachute was overhead, sat still in a state of expectancy, wondering where the fateful bomb was going to drop. There is something very devastating to the nerves about a bomb. It seems so inevitable. There are many men whose nerves are proof against shell fire of any description, though few like it or go out of their way to meet it.
