The war is a petrol war. Every thing is done by machinery, and victory
is to the man who has the most petrol. One is much impressed by this.
The aeroplanes have by now rendered ordinary scouts obsolete. They go
ahead of us and find out everything about the Germans. One hears the
hum of their engines daily. It was quite exciting at one place when
three of our planes chased a very fast German one. One of our fellows
put a bullet through his petrol tank, forced him to come down, and made
him prisoner. We make war in a most extraordinary way nowadays. The
other day ---- and I met at headquarters and had a cup of tea together
during an hour I had off. He said he felt mischievous and would love to
have a go at some Uhlan patrols who were only about a dozen miles off.
So he jumped into his car and drove off. A few hours later he returned
to have a first-class dinner at an hotel near headquarters, having
killed a Uhlan and nearly taken two more prisoners: _A Dispatch-Rider_.
“Crackers!”
I expect the Germans thought they had a snip. Their army is very
poorly looked after. You can’t help feeling sorry for some of the poor
beggars--they are almost starved to death, and give themselves up in
scores. This war is nothing but an artillery duel, and the country for
miles is very wooded, which makes it harder for us, because we cannot
see them till we are almost on top of them, and then they have first
plonk at us. The Kaiser’s crack regiment, the Prussian Guards, went
crackers before we were out a fortnight. There was a pretty dust-up. We
caught them coming across an open field. We let them come within 200
yards of us, and then we let go. We almost wiped them clean out. It
was an awful sight when we finished. Those who weren’t killed ran for
their lives. I expect they are in Berlin by now: _Private R. Homewood_.