10 August 1937

Dear Dad:

Got your last letter and see you are working hard. By the looks of things, Alberta is taking a bad position as far as the crops go this year.

Yesterday morning P.O. Heath (one of our instructors) told Hoare and I to have three Furies run up. He had some friends over in Suffolk who needed shooting up, so at 10:00 a.m. we set off. Hoare and I stuck so tight to him that we nearly cast the same shadow. Heath was all smiles as we did a vertical turn and swept back over the aerodrome.

It was a lovely clear (nearly) bright morning and the Furies thundered along in great style. Over Burty St. Edmunds, Heath left us. Hoare and I went into slow rolls and drew up alongside each other. We then took turns going through our repertoire. Quite interesting watching a Fury slow roll thirty feet from your starboard wing. He got a thousand feet above me and behind, so I pushed the throttle through the gate and did a half roll off the top of a loop and landed right beside him.

Just then I saw a silver R.A.F. machine a couple of thousand feet above and thought it was Heath, so I signalled Hoare to follow and up we went.

Unfortunately, it was a two-seat day bomber, so we shot him up for luck. (He looked rather worried). After nearly giving up the ghost, we hound him, tore back to the aerodrome, and broke up spectacularly. Coming down at terrific speed, then up, up, up, Hoare and I breaking away in stall turns (vertically and Heath continuing on in a loop.)

Yesterday afternoon I got the highest score on air to ground Vickers for both Netheravon and our own fighters by twenty points.

Love Bill