"Do you often lose fellows?"
"Off and on — you see, we're a fighting squadron — must take a bit of risk now and then — it's the game, y'know!"
He brought me where stood biplanes and monoplanes of all sizes and designs, and paused beside a two-seater, gunned fore and aft, and with ponderous, wide-flung wings.
"This," he explained, "is an old battleplane, quite a veteran too — jolly old bus in its way, but too slow; it's a 'pusher', you see, and 'tractors' are all the go. We're having some over to-day — tophole machines." Here ensued much technical discussion between him and N. as to the relative merits of traction and propulsion.
"Have you had many air duels?" I enquired at last, as we wandered on through a maze of wheels and wings and propellers.
"Oh, yes, one or two," he admitted, "though nothing very much!" he hastened to add. "Some of our chaps are pretty hot stuff, though. There's B. now; B.'s got nine so far."