A very enjoyable read. Full of the enthusiasm and energy of youth. Amazing that he was only 17 when he joined the Flying Corps, was just 18 when he flew patrols over the battle of the Somme, and then a captain commanding a squadron by the end of the war aged 20. Wonderful descriptions of flying those early flying machines, the near death trap of the Morane Parasol that he mastered, the heavy robust SE5, and the nimble but tricky Sopwith Camel. His rather pedestrian philosophical monologues on war and death were somewhat at odds with the light hearted high jinks and scrapes he describes as a flyer, and I skipped over most of them. The last two chapters describe his two years in China as an instructor to the new Chinese airforce. It’s interesting, but doesn’t really sit well with the rest, and I think it would have been better to end the book with the end of the war. But in sum it’s a classic of aviation literature and I’m very glad I read it.