Not wanting to be surprised by enemy aircraft while concentrating on the flying, I do my best to keep a good look-out.
But the skies are clear of other aircraft.
Round we go again, as our artillery shells another target, amidst the mud and dirt.
Another few long minutes drag by and our time is up at last.
I bank around for our side of the Lines, hardly believing that despite the many noisy impacts, we and our Aviatik appear unscathed.
The flak isn't done with us yet, though.
I put the nose down for the last stretch over to friendly territory.
Up ahead, our local observation balloon comes into sight again, and just beyond that, our airfield. Nearly home!
I reduce the throttle and let the aircraft sink slowly.
We coast gently past our friends in the balloon's little basket. It looks like a precarious enough perch, but still, I'll bet they prefer their job to ours!
I steer to the right of Ghistelles...
...and having descended below 300 metres, turn in for my approach. Home sweet home!
The debriefing records that I failed to take any notes for battery ranging! I've heard of dropping bagged messages with visual reconnaisance reports at friendly HQs, but how taking notes was supposed to range artillery fire, I'm not clear. By the time I discovered I had no radio transmitter available, it was a bit late to make enquiries as to how to proceed otherwise.
However, this time, I'll happily settle for getting us home in one piece and an interesting, engaging and at times scary flight, which certainly invoked the feeling of flying the aeroplanes which actually did the work.