Journal Entry: 11 June, 1917
Droglandt

The old saw that states, "It's not what you know, but who you know that's important" is in my case absolutely true. I have always hated people who used their connections to get what they want in life and I have pledged in the past to never do that sort of thing. Life is funny in a cruel sort of way because I found myself in a situation where I had to do just that. I was fully prepared to do my best as an advanced instructor but what I wasn't prepared for, was the wanton loss of life. In my time, which was two months, I lost ten student pilots. Each one of those students died in the most useless manner possible and at the end of two months I found that I just could not stomach another bright promising pilot ending his life because he forgot the most basic of instructions. I mean, how many times did we tell them that if you lose your engine at takeoff do not under any circumstances try and turn back to the field, and yet, we lost five pilots doing just that. It would be bearable if we could have taken the time to carefully train these young men, but with the latest losses the brass hats have pressured the instructors to rush the men through sometimes without even the most rudimentary training. After the last needless death I just decided enough was enough and I reached out to my father. My request was simple. I want to be sent back to a Scout unit. It is bad enough losing men, but at least in a fighting unit their loss can serve some purpose. It just so happens that my father went to Eton and is rather close to a certain someone who is highly placed in the Admiralty. I think that my father was actually pleased to help me, sort of gave him a purpose in the war effort, if you will. Anyway, between the machinations of my father's friend and the fact that I am the highest scoring pilot in the RNAS, I was eventually informed that there was an opening in the 10 RNAS scout squadron and I could have that assignment with one stipulation, that I fly no patrols over the enemy lines. That satisfied my situation perfectly and I agreed to the conditions and packed my bags for Droglandt. The 10th is a salty outfit and I already like what I see and hear from the men. As a matter of fact, one of my pilots is Flight Lieutenant Collishaw and I expect great things from him if he should survive. Just this morning, I flew a DOP with Flt. Lts. Collishaw, Harrison, and Gibbs down near Diksmuide. We ran into a flight of the newest model of Albatros and made short work of them. I am firmly convinced that the Huns do not have any machines capable of besting our Tripes. I never thought I would love a plane more than my old Pup, but the Tripehound has certainly won my heart. It is good to be back with men that are flying and fighting with a purpose.