The boys arrive, back from Quetta, and this afternoon I hope to go flying. But Glover insists on going in the back, and remembering my last effort, I am wondering if I shall be able to do a landing in the half hour allotted to me. There is much talk. A new squadron adjutant is arriving; there’s a week’s detachment of four a/c next month to Jallundar; one a/c to go to Calcutta at the end of this month, and I am detailed as one of two planes to carry the G.O.C. from D.I.K. to Wana and back. But as I couldn’t even land on this ‘drome, and God knows if I shall manage it today, how the hell can I land on a postage stamp at D.I.K. and Wana? We have fitted wooden tail wheels, bound with metal, and if you do a heavy landing it breaks the stern post. This flying – Christ!
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