One of our flying men attacked and silenced four machine-gun teams in a strong emplacement. Others cleared trenches of German soldiers, who scuttled like rabbits into their dug-outs. They fired everything they carried at anything which would kill the enemy or destroy his material. Having used up all his Lewis-gun ammunition upon marching troops, one lad fired his Very-lights, his signal-rockets, at the next group of men he saw. They flew at field-gunners and put them to flight, at heavy guns crawling along the roads on caterpillar wheels, at transport wagons, motor-lorries, and one motor-car, whose passengers, if they live, will never forget that sudden rush of wings four feet overhead, with a spasm of bullets about them. The aeroplane was so low that the pilot thought he would crash into the motor-car, but he just planed clear of it as the driver steered it sharply into a ditch, where it overturned with its five occupants. The airman went on his journey, scattered 500 infantry and returned home after a long flight never higher than 500 feet above the ground.
Meanwhile during the progress of the battle our air squadrons appointed for artillery observation work were all over the enemy's batteries, signalling to our gunners and sending back "O.K." flashes when our counter-battery work was effective. There were an amazing number of "O.K.'s." One air squadron alone helped a group of heavies to silence seventy-two batteries. Everywhere over the battle-ground our air scouts were out and about, watching the progress of infantry, speaking to them by signals, picking up their answers, flying back to headquarters with certain information; so that the direction of the battle was helped enormously by this quick intelligence. It was a day of triumph for the Royal Flying Corps, and for all those boys with wings on their breasts, who, after their day's flight, come down to the French estaminets to rattle ragtime on untuned pianos, and give glad eyes to any pretty girl about, and fling themselves into the joy of life which they risk so lightly.
In this battle of Messines there was not any body of our men who did not spend all their strength and take all risks with a kind of passionate exultation of spirit. The Manchester men dug a six-foot deep trench-line to our new front on the ridge, beating all records. Flinging off tunics and shirts so that they were naked to the waist, New-Zealanders who took Messines dug as inspired diggers, fast and furiously, and before next day had dawned had two long, deep trenches as secure defences against German counter-attacks.