XXXVIII.
To his Father.

Dear Dad,

I left Dover yesterday afternoon on B.E. 2 C, and had a convenient engine failure at Westgate. Landed in the aerodrome and had a chat with Maude before proceeding. Arrived here in due course—it is a most desolate spot. Shall be here anything between three days and three weeks. Saw Babington here soon after I arrived.

I don't seem to be able to get away from this damn war. Last night "old man Zepp" came over here—"beaucoup de bombs,"—"pas de success." Two machines went up to spikebozzle him, but, of course, never even saw him. A sub went up from Westgate and came down in standing corn. He turned two somersaults. Have just heard that he has since died. I knew him slightly. We have a terrific big bomb hole in the middle of the aerodrome and numerous smaller ones at the back. Expect to be back in Dunkirk on Sunday next. "Pas de Dardanelles." We are going into khaki though.

Love to all.

XXXIX.
To his Father.

Dear Dad,

Have just arrived here from Eastchurch, having been suddenly recalled, and am now told to be ready to cross to Dunkirk in half an hour—no gear, dirty linen, "pas de leave"—what a life!

Shall try hard to get some leave in a week or so's time. Anyhow I must get my khaki outfit.

Love.