War’s unmistakable calling card had arrived.
The smell of cordite and burning petrol was overwhelming.
When Jake stepped onto the field after his long trek down the country lane he found the field in a shambles. Two of the three large canvas hangars, including the several machines which had been in each building, were nothing but charred and smoldering remains. Smoke still lifted out of the blackened remnants as he walked around the gaping holes of raw earth. Craters gouged out of the field from some gigantic Boche cannon. The aromas of freshly dug earth, mixed with the smells of turpentine, burnt hair, and canvas hung in the air. Worse yet, both brand new B.E.2c"s he had delivered this morning had been hit by the barrage and were nothing but thousands of fragmented shards of wood, canva
