RFC pilots talking in the mess hall. Horace- we had a fair scrap this morning. Hendrick- no doubt, bloody loco scrap, Huns about everywhere. William- thick as flies on a wet paddy! Arnold didn't seems to mind, though. Horace- funny you mention that. Queer chap, that Hoyt (Arnold Hoyt). He never says a word, damn good at blasting Huns and their baggage, cool as a newly appointed Vestal Virgin and never... never makes a claim. William- I saw him flame two balloons after shooting up a rail yard. He doesn't waste ammo! Hendrick- trenchies reported two Albi downed the other day. I know it was Hoyt... had to be. We were to meet up with a Harry Tate but he went off for a bit of aerial R and R. That's what he called it when the CO reprimanded him. Came back to us, though, before we crossed the lines to successfully finish the junket. Giles (eavesdropping)- Hoyt is a cracker! We were to burn a big fat sausage. Hoyt 'targeted' it and sent us on our way. I was his wingie but he sent me off. He yanked his SE off toward an airfield and knocked down some Pfalz while they were trying to land. I know because when I got there two smoking holes were in the runway and I know I saw a fireball falling. I asked him later how many he got and he said he doesn't know how to count! I put in some paperwork for him but he wouldn't sign off on it. Horace- I saw him take on five Green Tails! William- really? Giles- those Green Tails are a tough lot. How'd he go about it? Horace- he dove straight in! Sent one limping home just like that (snaps fingers)! He pulls up in a... a... LOOP... for cripes sakes! Does it again. We four in the flight were pretty amazed and just watched like slack-jawed Cockneys! After a minute or two the Green Tails had enough and flew off. Hoyt didn't have a hole in his machine and had ammo left. Crikey... he can handle his bus! The mess mates sit and stare, shaking their heads...