France
5 May 1917.

Dear Ones All:-

Just a little line to say howdy and good-bye. No mail has reached me from home for so many weeks that I have no idea how things are going with the various members of the family but I hope that the old adage still holds good- "No news is good news"

I was up on my first real stunt in the way of night flying last night. We didn’t reach our objective I am sorry to say owing to a heavy ground mist that made it impossible to see where we were at and had to return with our bombs on board. I was very peeved about the whole business. It is a bit risky making a night landing with live bombs too and that didn’t make me feel any happier on our way back. However bombs do appear to be fairly safe unless they have a long drop.

(Portion of Letter eliminated by Censor)

However I started out to tell you about our flight last night. It would have been good fun except for the blinkin’ mist. We had to come down to about 800 ft. to see where we were. It was right over the trenches and the busy little Huns below, having nothing else to shoot at in the darkness, gave us a fine peppering with rifles and machine ‘guns. The planes and spars were shot up a bit and one came through the nacelle beside Duncan’s knee but we weren’t touched. They put up two search lights on us then and we had to buzz off half blinded. We felt very much ashamed of the whole performance. The C.O. was on the aerodrome when we returned too, though he didn’t say much. He’s a good fellow. I have nothing to do till to-morrow night and this afternoon we are going to in a touring car to (eliminated by Censor) a long way from here. Some class to us, eh. Gosh, gee!

Good-bye, Dear People. The car is waiting now.

Lovingly,
Eric.