Jack Cairns' first day back...

I was back a day early, but as Phillip was out of leave it made sense to travel together. He was a lot breezier now that he’d put Catie more or less behind him. And it was simply good to be home, such as home was. The Vicarage was still the cosiest Nissen hut in the RFC, and Phillip had brought back a recording of Le Temps des Cerises for the gramophone, so we had good memories to share.

Nathaniel Heaton, our new hut-mate, was packing when we arrived back. He’d been transferred out along with young Dutton, both headed for 29 Squadron. Poor sods, No 29 still had Nieuports but they were due for SEs. In Heaton’s place, and already moved into the spare bed, was a Canadian with the unfortunate name of Stanley Asa Puffer. Puffer was a keen sort, a former infantryman. His home town was some desolate spot on the prairies. His father was a provincial politician. I well understood why he’d gone to war.

Most significantly, we had a new CO. Major Powell was now confirmed as a prisoner of war, and in his place we’d got Major Bowman, who bore the nickname “Beery” due to his ruddy complexion. Major Bowman was just in from 56 and was a genuine Hun-getter, with more than two dozen kills to his credit. He was in the process of interviewing each pilot here, and my turn was due after lunch.

But first there was business to attend to. I read the orders with some trepidation. I had the early job on 7 February – a two-plane jaunt into deepest, darkest Hunland to drop bombs on the aerodrome at Douai. God, how I hated Douai! It was Heaton and my job. His going-away present and my welcome-back. A Flight was to provide cover. Diving into Douai with just the two of us was idiotic.

I was up by four to supervise the fitting of the bombs and check over and grease the ammunition. I told Heaton we’d go in at 3000 feet, no lower, loose our bombs and get straight out. The weather was poor, driving snow down low, with clouds at 4000 towering up to 10000 feet. We lost A Flight somewhere near Arras, and had to navigate by dead reckoning as we could not see the ground. I spiralled down 15 minutes after seeing Arras under the left wing and immediately spotted Douai. Our target was only a few miles to the north-northwest. As we approached we made out eight or nine two-seaters circling about to land. I flew through them, dropped my bombs, and pulled away. Tracers criss-crossed from every direction and hundreds of shells were expended on Heaton and me. I spotted three single-seaters, probably Albatri, off to the north. They left us alone and we headed for home at full throttle.

My interview with the CO went well, I thought. He was a friendly sort, but no-nonsense and determined to make us a crack show. He told us he had no plans to fly a desk and he wanted to judge every man in the air personally. I looked forward to flying with him.


Geoffrey Hilton "Beery" Bowman