22West of Poperinghe, Friday, 3 May 1918
‘At least he’s got the machine back in one piece,’ the driver said as he pulled a lorry to a halt at the side of the S.E.5a.
His passenger, another airman in the ground crew, leapt from the cab. ‘The archies have had a good go at him though. Cop a gander at the size of those holes.’ He pointed to the tear in the fuselage behind the cockpit. ‘Why the hell isn’t he getting out?’ He grabbed a pair of steps and hurried to the plane, clambered up and peered into the cockpit.
An ambulance pulled up beside the lorry and a sergeant medical orderly rushed out. He ran to the plane as the airman turned and called, ‘Bloody hell. He’s all shot up.’
The sergeant shouted, ‘Out the bloody way then. Let me up there.’
The airman jumped down. ‘He looks like he’s
