The weekly Alaska citizen., 1918-06-17

4S<A4NSI, udy HI luc CdIly part of the night before the mist set in our night-flying squadrons drop ped five tons of bombs on two hostile aerodromes "-Official Com. munique.
 A most prosaic statement and one from which the average reader would fail to get much thrill. Our night flying squadrons dropped five tons of bombs" A mere commonplace i; an incident in the daily routine So far as color goes it might have read: Our motor transport brought up five tons of biscuits"
 And yet behind that brief an nouncement, shorn of all heroics. and behind every similar announce ment, lies wealth of supreme dar- ing. of dangers, seen and sunseen, of hair-breadth escapes and nerve. racking episodes.
 The correspondent of the Associat. ed Press witnessed the start and the return of the airmen who drop ped five tons of bombs," and the story of this very ordinary night may serve to give the reader some idea of the daily life of the airman who. as 1t were, continually battles on the edge of a precipice while the many hands of war reach out to drag him down.
 We arrived at great British aerodrome just as the evening shades were falling and the mechan- ics were making their final inspec- tion of the huge bombing machines which shortly were to wheel their way across the fighting lines with their freight of explosives. Some day-flyers were returning from their trips, winging their way straight and true towards the aerodrome from all directions like mighty hon. ing pigeons. A few pilots were circling in picturesque curves above the grounds, and occasionally swOop- ing down in lightning charges to- wards stationary targets while their machine-guns spat steady stream of livid fire to the accompaniment of that wicked staccato chatter which spells one of the greatest terrors of the front.
 The night-flyers were to go out as soon as darkness had settled, and we found them all in the mess hall over their early dinners. Twelve machines were to engage in the raid in hand, which meant that. twenty four of these clean-cut boys would soon be risking their lives over the inhospitable zone where the Ger mans watch and wait for the appear ance of enemy aircraft.
 We joined them at ness and listened to their conversation. It gave one a sensation of witnessing a drama which could have no basis in fact, to look into their youthful faces with the realization that with in a short space they might all be called upon to pay the great price in defense of king and country.
 They were not discussing the raid In fact, they seemed to be avoiding it. Their talk was largely made up of inconsequential chaff, and it seemed at moments that there was just suspicion of nerves" in their outbursts of laughter. From time to time some one of them would fall into silence and thoughtfulness, only to be recalled from his reverie by the quip of comrade. They watched one another like brothers, and we wondered if there were not some method in this badiage of jests, but we asked no questions.
 A table just back of the cores pondent was filled with jolly party. A newcomer came in and took his seat, a big, broad-shouldered chap with clear eyes and engaging smile. He was the. pilot of one of the raid ing machines. He was bounced upon immediately.
 Your family is very wealthy. we hear, Yank!"
 "Wealthy; l should say it was," boomed great voice. q don't work because have to. I'm doing this because l like it."
 The speaker was Boston hoy who had been flying with the Brit ish since 1916. A few minutes later he crossed and touched the cor respondent on the shoulder.
 Come over to our table and We will fill you up on local color and champagne" he invited.
 There was local color, and cham pagne, too, for somebody had just received a promotion and was cele- brating very mildly with quart of wine. We chatted for a few min. utes and the Massachusetts man told a little of how he had deserted exhibition flying in America to join tho pritish forcoc