Sunday Morning,
September 30th.

It's only 8.30 but I've been up for some time and went up about an hour ago to test the weather. Everything over the Hun lines was covered as though it were snow and all I could see was an occasional tree top, so I "washed out" the patrol, much to the delight of those "standing by" on the ground.

There is nothing to write about. I am standing by for the weather to clear and then go on patrol. I'm so pleased with my machine; it's a real pleasure flying. It is entirely French, engine and all and a beautiful piece of workmanship.

Yesterday I had a letter from Viv in answer to one I wrote her. There was nothing in it that was of special interest. We go into huts today; I think I told you though.

Well, Dad, this is all for today or rather this morning. I'll write tonight if there is anything interesting.