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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75637 ***
+
+
+
+
+
+WINGED WARFARE
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: Major W. A. Bishop, V.C., D.S.O., M.C.]
+
+
+
+
+                             WINGED WARFARE
+
+                      HUNTING THE HUNS IN THE AIR
+
+                                   BY
+                    MAJOR BISHOP, V.C., D.S.O., M.C.
+
+
+                          HODDER AND STOUGHTON
+                     LONDON    NEW YORK    TORONTO
+                                  1918
+
+
+       _Printed in Great Britain by Hazell, Watson & Viney, Ld.,
+                         London and Aylesbury._
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+
+It was the mud, I think, that made me take to flying. I had fully
+expected that going into battle would mean for me the saddle of a
+galloping charger, instead of the snug little cock-pit of a modern
+aeroplane. The mud, on a certain day in July 1915, changed my whole
+career in the war.
+
+We were in England. I had gone over as an officer of the Missisauga
+Horse, of Toronto, a cavalry detachment of the Second Canadian
+Division. It had rained for days in torrents, and there was still a
+drizzle coming down as I set out for a tour of the horse-lines.
+
+Ordinary mud is bad enough, when you have to make your home in it, but
+the particular brand of mud that infests a cavalry camp has a meanness
+all its own. Everything was dank, and slimy, and boggy. I had succeeded
+in getting myself mired to the knees when suddenly, from somewhere out
+of the storm, appeared a trim little aeroplane.
+
+It landed hesitatingly in a near-by field as if scorning to brush its
+wings against so sordid a landscape; then away again up into the clean
+grey mists.
+
+How long I stood there gazing into the distance I do not know, but when
+I turned to slog my way back through the mud my mind was made up. I
+knew there was only one place to be on such a day--up above the clouds
+and in the summer sunshine. I was going into the battle that way. I was
+going to meet the enemy in the air.
+
+I had never given much thought to being a soldier, even after my
+parents had sent me to the Royal Military College at Kingston, when I
+was seventeen years of age. I will say for my parents that they had
+not thought much of me as a professional soldier either. But they did
+think, for some reason or other, that a little military discipline at
+the Royal Military College would do me a lot of good--and I suppose it
+did.
+
+In any event, those three years at the R.M.C. stood me in good stead
+when the rush came in Canada, when everywhere, everybody was doing his
+best to get taken on in some capacity in order to get to the front
+quickly.
+
+We Canadians will never forget the thrill of those first days of the
+war, and then the terrible waiting before most of us could get to the
+other side. Our great fear was that the fighting would all be over
+before we could give a hand in it. How little we knew then of the glory
+that was to be Canada’s in the story of the Western Front, of the
+sacrifices that were to reach to nearly every fireside in the Dominion!
+
+For many months my bit seemed to consist of training, more training,
+delays and more delays. But at last we got over. We crossed in an
+old-time cattle-boat. Oh, what a trip! Fifteen days to reach England!
+We had 700 horses on board, and 700 seasick horses are not the most
+congenial steamer company.
+
+We were very proud to be in England. We felt we were really in the
+war-zone, and soon would be in the fighting. But it is a great mistake
+to think that when you sail from America you are going to burst right
+up to the front and go over the top at day-break in the morning. The
+way to the war is long. There was more work and more training for us in
+England. At first we were sent to a very sandy camp on the coast, and
+from there to a very muddy camp somewhere else in the British Isles.
+
+It was to this camp that the aeroplane came that stormy day in July. A
+week later my plans were in motion. I met a friend in the Royal Flying
+Corps and confided in him my ambition to fly. He assured me it would
+be easy to arrange a transfer, and instructed me as to what I should
+do. If I wanted to get to the front quickly I would have to go as an
+observer, meaning that when I flew over the German lines I would be
+the “passenger” in a two-seated plane and would do just what my title
+indicated--observe.
+
+If one has a stomach for flying, it doesn’t take long to become a
+fairly competent observer. There are observer schools where they teach
+you just what to observe and what not to observe. This is not a joke.
+If an observer lets his gaze wander to too many non-essentials he
+cannot do the real observing that is expected of him.
+
+A few more days of cavalry mud and I was convinced that to be an
+observer in the air was better far than commanding a division on the
+ground. So I applied for my transfer, got it, and went to an observing
+school. I loved those first few flights in an old training “bus.” I
+don’t think she could make more than fifty miles an hour; and as for
+climbing, she struggled and shook and gasped like a freight train going
+up a mountain grade. But it was thrilling enough for me in those days,
+despite the fact that I soon began to envy the pilot who had all the
+fun of running the machine and could make it do a few lame and decrepit
+stunts.
+
+After a few months I was graduated as an observer and was awarded my
+first insignia of the Flying Corps---an O, with one outstretched wing
+attached to it, to be worn on the left breast of the tunic. I was
+rather proud of that one wing, but more determined than ever to win the
+double wings of a full-fledged pilot, and some day have a machine of
+my own.
+
+In a very short time I was in France and ready for my first trip over
+the enemy lines. As I look back upon it now my life as an observer
+seems very tame. The work of the reconnaissance and artillery machines,
+as well as the photography and bombing planes, is very important. It
+goes on day and night, in good weather and bad, but all the times I was
+observing I wanted to be fighting. Whenever I saw one of the small,
+swift, single-seater machines, which were just coming into vogue then
+for fighting purposes, my resolves to become a fighting pilot would
+grow stronger and stronger.
+
+But far be it from me to detract one iota from the work of the
+observers. They take enormous risks and seldom get any of the glory.
+The men in the Corps recognize and appreciate the quality of their
+work, but the public at large rarely hears of them. The feats of the
+fighting planes form the spectacular and fascinating side of flying,
+but in a sense the daily drudgery of the bombers, the photographers,
+and the observers is of even greater value to the fighting men of the
+ground.
+
+It is no child’s play to circle above a German battery observing for
+half an hour or more, with your machine tossing about in air, tortured
+by exploding shells and black shrapnel puffballs coming nearer and
+nearer to you like the ever-extending finger-tips of some giant hand
+of death. But it is just a part of the never-ceasing war. In the air
+service this work is never done. Everywhere along the line the big guns
+wait daily for the wireless touch of aeroplanes to set them booming
+at targets carefully selected from a previous day of observation. Big
+shells cannot be wasted. The human effort involved in creating them
+and placing them beside the well-screened guns at the front is far too
+great for that.
+
+Every shell must be watched. It is a startling thing, but true. When
+we possess the high ground and the ridges, it is not always necessary
+for the aeroplanes or the balloons to do the observing; the artillery
+observing officers can go forward on the ground and from a convenient
+tree-top, a bit of trench, or a sheltering shell-hole see exactly what
+his guns are doing.
+
+Every day there are hundreds of photographs to be taken, so that the
+British map-makers can trace each detail of the German trench positions
+and can check any changes in the enemy zone. Information is to be
+gained at all times by all manner of reconnaissances--some of them
+carrying you fifty to sixty miles in the enemy country. Then, there is
+the fighting patrol work which goes on all hours. The patrol is not on
+our side of the line. It is far over the German lines to keep the enemy
+machines from coming too close even to their own front trenches. Of
+course they do slip over occasionally, but more than often have to pay
+for their temerity.
+
+The British infantryman--Mr. Tommy Atkins--takes it as a personal
+insult to have a Hun machine flying over him. It shouldn’t be done, he
+says, and he grouses about it for weeks. How different with the German
+infantryman! Our planes are on top of them most of the time. The Huns
+used to write wrathful letters home about it. Sometimes our infantry
+has captured these letters before they were posted, and they used to
+amuse us when we got them in the daily army reports. I remember one
+particularly peevish old Boche who wrote last May:
+
+“The air activity where we are is very great. The English will soon be
+taking the very caps off our heads.”
+
+It is great fun to fly very low along the German trenches and give
+them a burst of machine-gun bullets as a greeting in the morning, or a
+good-night salute in the evening. They don’t like it a bit. But we love
+it; we love to see the Kaiser’s proud Prussians running for cover like
+so many rats.
+
+Whatever your mission, whether it is to direct artillery fire, to
+photograph, to bomb an ammunition-dump or supply-train, or just to
+look old Fritz over and see in a general way what he is up to, your
+first journey into Hunland is a memorable event in your life. I may
+say here, in passing, that in the Flying Corps a German is seldom
+anything but a Hun, and the territory back of his lines is seldom
+anything but Hunland. Our general orders tell us to designate a Hun
+plane as an “enemy aircraft” in our reports, or “E. A.” for short, but,
+nevertheless, we always think of both the machine and the pilot as a
+Hun, and they will ever be.
+
+If it is artillery work you are on, you have learned to send down
+signals to your battery by means of a wireless buzzer, and you are
+equipped with intricate zone maps that enable you to pick out all
+manner of fixed objects in the enemy’s domain. You can locate his
+dugouts, his dumps, his lines of communication, his battery positions,
+his shelters behind the trees, and, in a general way, keep tab on his
+“ways that are dark, and tricks that are vain.”
+
+The day for your trip over happens to be one of wondrous sunshine and
+the clearest possible visibility. At every aerodrome behind the long
+British war-line the aeroplanes are out of their hangars, and are being
+tested with such a babel of noisy explosions that in moving about with
+a companion you have fairly to shout to make yourself heard. With your
+pilot you climb into the waiting two-seater. It has been groomed for
+the day and fussed over with as much care as a mother might bestow upon
+her only offspring starting for Sunday school.
+
+“Contact, sir?” questions a mechanic standing at the propeller.
+
+“Contact,” repeats the pilot.
+
+There is a click of the electric ignition switch, the propeller is
+given a sharp swing over, and the engine starts with a roar. Once or
+twice there is a cough, but pretty soon she is “hitting” just right
+on every one of her multiple cylinders. It is all the mechanics can
+do to hold her back. Then the pilot throttles down to a very quiet
+little purr and signals to the attendants to draw away the chocks from
+under the wheels. Slowly you move forward under your own “steam” and
+“taxi” across the field rather bumpily, to head her into the wind.
+This accomplished, the throttle is opened wide, you rush forward with
+increasing speed, you feel the tail of the machine leave the ground,
+and then you go leaping into space.
+
+You climb in great wide circles above the aerodrome, rig up the
+wireless, send a few test signals, get back the correct responses, and
+arrange your maps, while the pilot, with one eye on his instruments
+and the other on familiar landmarks, sets sail for the German lines,
+gaining height all the while. On the way to the lines you pass over
+your battery and send wireless word that you are ready to “carry on.”
+It is to be a day of “counter-battery” work, which means that some
+of our batteries are going to “do in” some of the Hun batteries. The
+modern guns of war are very temperamental and restless. They get tired
+of firing at infantry trenches and roads and things, and more often go
+to shooting at each other. In this you help them all you can.
+
+And now you come to make the acquaintance of “Archie,” who will
+pursue you through all your flying-days at the front. “Archie” is a
+presumptuous person and takes the liberty of speaking first.
+
+“Woof! Woof!” he barks out. Then--“Hiss-s-s. Bang! Bang!” Two flashes
+of crimson fire, and two swirling patches of black smoke jump out of
+the air a hundred yards or so in front of you.
+
+The experienced pilot swerves a little neatly and avoids the next
+volley, which breaks far to your right. “Archie” keeps barking at you
+for quite a while and you seem to be leaving a perfect trail of the
+diffusing black smoke-balls in your wake. The pilot looks back at you
+and grins; he wonders if you have the “wind up”--army talk for being
+scared to death. It isn’t any disgrace to get the “wind up” at the
+war, and there are few of us who can truthfully say we haven’t had a
+queerish sort of feeling every now and then.
+
+“Archie,” of course, is an anti-aircraft cannon. How the airmen first
+happened to name him “Archibald” I do not know; it was when we got to
+know him better, and fear him less, that we began to call him “Archie.”
+With “Archie” it is the old story of familiarity breeding contempt, but
+of late the German “Archie” family has multiplied to such an extent as
+almost to make it dangerous to go visiting across the Hun lines. The
+German shrapnel shells are nearly always mixed with high-explosive.
+They are very noisy, but most of the time your engine is making
+such clatter the explosive efforts to wing you in flight go entirely
+unnoticed.
+
+Leaving the border-guarding “Archies” far behind, you fly on until you
+pick up the four mounds that indicate the German battery position.
+You fly rather low to get a good look at it. The Huns generally know
+what your coming means and they prepare to take cover. You return a
+little way toward your own lines and signal to your battery to fire.
+In a moment you see the flash of a big gun. Then nothing seems to
+happen for an eternity. As a matter of fact twenty to thirty seconds
+elapse and then fifty yards beyond the German battery you see a spurt
+of grey-black earth spring from the ground. You signal a correction of
+the range. The next shot goes fifty yards short. In artillery language
+you have “bracketed” your target. You again signal a correction, giving
+a range just in between the first two shots. The next shell that goes
+over explodes in a gunpit.
+
+“Good shooting,” you signal to the battery, “carry on”--particular
+battery is silenced for good and all. “Archie” tries for you again as
+you return across the lines, but his range-finding is very bad to-day.
+You salute your battery as you sail over, then land a few minutes later
+at the aerodrome well satisfied with your three hours’ work.
+
+You have been to Hunland, and you feel your career in the air has
+really begun.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+
+Altogether I spent four months in France as an observer. How I longed
+during all that time for a fight in the air! But no real chances came,
+and, finally, I quitted my seat as a passenger without having fired a
+single combat shot from the tidy little machine-gun that was always
+near me and seemed to yearn as much as I did to have a go at the enemy.
+
+I injured my knee after an observing trip one day, when the pilot
+crashed the machine in landing; and while I did not have to go to
+hospital with it, it gradually grew worse until May 1916, when I had to
+lay up several months for repairs.
+
+My sick-leave over, I reported for duty again and got a real
+surprise--I was told I could learn to fly! This made me happier than
+I can express. I pictured myself in one of the swift little fighting
+planes I had seen in France, and I felt in my heart of hearts that
+I would make good. I already knew what it felt like to fly; I knew
+the language of the air, the esprit of the Corps, and some of the
+heart-palpitating peculiarities of our best-balanced engines. But all
+this time I had been a sort of innocent bystander. Now, at last, I was
+going into the air “on my own.”
+
+The first step was to go to a school of instruction--a ground
+school--where the theory of flying and the mechanical side of aviation
+are expounded to you. I went through these courses, and by special
+permission was allowed to take my examination three weeks earlier than
+would have been the case in the ordinary course of events. I worked
+like a Trojan, and passed without much difficulty. Then was to come the
+real part of it all, the part for which I had waited for over a year.
+
+On November 1st, 1916, I was sent to another school for elementary
+training in the air. This consisted, first of all, in going up in
+another old machine--a steady type called the Maurice Farman, and
+fitted with a dual set of controls, so that the instructor could
+manage one while I tried to manage the other. Never will I forget those
+days of dual control. I tried very hard, but seemed to me I just could
+not get the proper “feel” of the machine. First the instructor would
+tell me I was “ham-handed”--that I gripped the controls too tightly
+with every muscle tense. After that I would get what you might call
+timid-handed, and not hold the controls tightly enough. My instructor
+and I both suffered tortures. So when suddenly one day he told me I
+could go up alone, I had my doubts as to whether it was confidence or
+desperation that dictated his decision. I didn’t worry long as to which
+it was; I was willing to take the chance.
+
+Then followed my first solo! This is, I think, the greatest day in a
+flying man’s life. Certainly I did not stop talking about it for the
+next three weeks at least. I felt a great and tender pity for all the
+millions of people in the world who never have a chance to do a solo!
+
+An ambulance stood in the aerodrome, and it seemed to me, as it has
+to many another student-pilot, that all the other business of flying
+had suddenly ceased so that everybody could look at me. I noticed with
+a shiver that the ambulance had its engine running. Were the doctors
+at the hospital expectantly fondling their knives? Everybody looked
+cold-blooded and heartless. But I had to do it: so into the machine I
+crawled, trying to look cheerful, but feeling awful lonesome. How I got
+off the ground I do not know, but once in the air it was not nearly
+so bad--not much worse than the first time you started downhill on an
+old-fashioned bicycle.
+
+I wasn’t taking any liberties. I flew as straight ahead as I could,
+climbing steadily all the time. But at last I felt I had to turn, and I
+tried a very slow, gradual one, not wanting to bank either too steeply
+or too little. They told me afterwards I did some remarkable skidding
+on that turn, but I was blissfully ignorant of a little detail like
+that and went gaily on my way. I banked a little more on my next turn
+and didn’t skid so much.
+
+For a time I felt very much pleased with myself circling above the
+aerodrome, but suddenly an awful thought came to me. Somehow or other I
+had to get that machine down to the earth again. How blissful it would
+be if I could just keep on flying! At last, however, I screwed up all
+my courage, reached for the throttle, pushed it back, and the engine
+almost stopped. I knew the next thing to do was to put her nose down.
+So down it went at a steep angle. I felt it was too steep, so I pulled
+her nose up a bit, then put it down again, and in a series of steps I
+had been told carefully to carry out, descended toward the ground.
+
+About forty feet from the ground, however, I did everything I had
+been told to do when two feet from the ground. So I made a perfect
+landing--only forty feet too high. Eventually I realised this slight
+error, and down went her nose again. We rapidly got nearer the ground,
+and then I repeated my perfect landing--about eight feet up. This
+time I just sat and suffered, while the now thoroughly exasperated
+old machine, taking matters into its own hands, dropped with a
+“plonk” the intervening distance. There was no damage, because the
+training-machines are built for such work, and can stand all sorts of
+hard knocks.
+
+After doing my first solo, I progressed rather rapidly, and in a few
+days was passed on to a higher instruction squadron and began to fly
+more warlike machines. I found that to qualify as a pilot I had to pass
+certain tests in night flying. This awed me to a certain extent, but it
+also appealed to me, for just two months before the first Zeppelins had
+been brought down at night on English soil by our airmen. I was very
+anxious to get taken on for this work, and eventually succeeded.
+
+Night-flying is a fearsome thing--but tremendously interesting. Anyone
+who has ever been swimming at night will appreciate what I mean. All
+the familiar objects and landmarks, that seem so friendly by day,
+become weird and repellent monsters at night. It is simple enough to
+go up in the dark, and simple enough to sail away. But it is quite
+something else to come down again without taking off a chimney-pot or
+“strafing” a big oak tree. The landing tests are done with the help of
+flares on the ground. My first flight at night had most of the thrills
+of my first solo. I “taxied” out to what I thought a good place to
+takeoff from. The instructor shouted a few last words to me above the
+noise of the motor. I turned the machine to face down the long line of
+lights, opened out the engine, raced along the ground, then plunged up
+into utter blackness.
+
+I held the controls very carefully and kept my eyes glued on the
+instruments that gleamed brightly under little electric bulbs inside
+the machine. I could not see a thing around me; only the stars
+overhead. Underneath there was a great black void. After flying
+straightway for several minutes I summoned up courage enough to make a
+turn. I carefully and gradually rounded the corner, and then away off
+to one side I could see the flares on the ground. I completed a big
+circuit and shut off the engine preparatory to landing. Suddenly, in
+the midst of my descent, I realized I had misjudged it very badly, so
+quickly put the engine on again and proceeded to fly around a second
+time. Then I came down, and, to my intense surprise, made quite a good
+landing. This was only the beginning. I had to repeat the trick several
+times.
+
+On the final test I had to do a given height. I left the ground as
+before, and just as I did so could see the reflection of the flares
+on the tin roofs of our huts. It made a great impression upon me, as
+I climbed away into the darkness. Then my thoughts went to my engine
+and I realized it was as important as my own heart. I listened to its
+steady beat with an anxious ear. Once or twice there was a slight kick
+or hitch in its smooth rhythm. No matter how many cylinders you have
+whirring in front of you, the instant one misses your heart hears it
+even before your ears do. Several times my heart seemed to stop. The
+tension became very great as I toiled and struggled up through the
+night. The lack of anything upon which I could put my eyes outside the
+machine gave me a very queer feeling.
+
+One other machine was up at the same time, doing its test, and somehow,
+although the space in the air is very wide, I had a great fear that
+we might collide, so I gazed anxiously out into the darkness trying to
+see the little navigation lights we carried on our wings. It is hard
+to look into jet blackness, and the strain hurt my eyes, but I was
+afraid not to look for all I was worth. I continued to fly as much as
+I could in a dead straight line. Whenever I had to make a turn I made
+a very gradual one, hardly daring to bank, or tilt, my machine at all.
+It is funny, this feeling at night that you must not bank, and a most
+dangerous instinct to follow. The feeling that you are off an even keel
+upsets you, as you have no horizon or apparent ground below you to take
+your bearings by, and you have to go by the instruments, or tell from
+the “feel” of the machine itself, whether you are level or not.
+
+However, at the stage of learning I had reached I knew nothing of the
+real feel of a machine and was entirely dependent upon the instruments.
+This is not a very reassuring state of mind, so when the instruments
+at last indicated I had attained the required height, it was with a
+happy heart that I throttled back my engine to come down. I was afraid
+to shut it completely off for fear that it would get too cold to pick
+up when I put it on again. When you come down with your engine running
+it takes a much longer time to reach the ground. Every thousand feet
+or so, as I lost height, I would carefully try out the engine, and do
+a complete circuit. Underneath me I could see the little twinkling
+flares, and kept them in sight as much as possible on the downward
+journey to make certain of not losing myself. Finally, I reached the
+ground and made a careful landing.
+
+When I stepped out of the machine I had at last qualified as a pilot.
+I was sent to a home-defence squadron near the mouth of the Thames. I
+spent hours practising in the air both by day and by night. Several
+times we had flight manœuvres at night, and that was ticklish work. We
+would go up to patrol a certain area with lights showing on all the
+aerodromes in that section of the country, so that you could steer
+by them. I don’t know of many greater tests of a pilot’s skill than
+this flying in the dark, with a lot of machines about you in the air,
+their little navigation lights looking for all the world like so many
+moving stars. The cold of the higher altitudes at night is agonizingly
+intense. After half an hour or so in the frigid zone you get sort of
+numb and then for a long while the cold doesn’t seem to affect you any
+more. The real nasty part is when you have landed and begin to thaw
+out. It is really worse than the original freezing.
+
+In spite of the discomforts and the dangers of night-flying you could
+not fail to admire the great beauty of the scene below you when the
+lights were on and sparkling. These lights would mean nothing to a
+stranger, but to us in the air they were friendly beacons of safety
+and gave us a feeling of absolute security. On such nights the skies
+would seem full to overflowing with myriad stars. We finally became so
+accustomed to flying in the dark that nothing troubled us except ground
+mists or light fogs that would occasionally slip in from the sea,
+obliterate the lights, and make landing a difficult and perilous task.
+
+My luck as a Zeppelin hunter was very poor. I used to dream
+occasionally about stalking the great monsters in the high thin air,
+pouring a drum of blazing bullets into them and gloating as they
+flared into flame. But no real Zeppelins ever came my way. The cold
+nights that we stood by on duty waiting for them were very long, but
+not without their compensations. There would be two of us at a given
+station. We would play cards, strum on some sort of instrument, read
+for an hour or so, play cards again, and all the while hoping for an
+alarm that would send us aloft in pursuit of a marauding gasbag from
+over the sea.
+
+Christmas Day we cooked our own turkey and the rest of the meal. Then,
+in a burst of Yuletide hospitality, we telephoned to a local hotel and
+told the manager to send anybody he wanted to out to the aerodrome
+for dinner. Alas for our ten-pound turkey! The guests from the hotel
+kept coming until there were actually twenty of them. However, in some
+miraculous way, we managed to feed the hungry score. Having partaken of
+our food, they did not tarry long. Night shut in early and once more
+we took up our wintry vigil.
+
+Toward the end of February word came through from the War Office one
+night that I was to go to France. I had become convinced that the
+winter would not offer much opportunity at Zeppelin hunting, and had
+applied several times for duty at the fighting front. Before I went,
+however, there was another course at a special school, where I learned
+to fly the smallest of our single-seater machines. Now, I felt, I had
+reached the height of my ambition at last; actually to fly one of these
+tiny, wasp-like fighting machines seemed to me the most wonderful thing
+in the world. A few days later, when I reported for my orders to cross
+the Channel it was with a gay heart, and a determination to reflect as
+much honour as I could upon the double wings on my left breast.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+
+With a dozen other flying men I landed at Boulogne on March 7th, 1917,
+for my second go at the war. At the Boulogne quay we separated, and
+I wish I could say that “some flew east and some flew west,” but as
+a matter of fact we didn’t fly at all. Instead, we meandered along
+over the slow French railroads for nearly two days before reaching our
+destinations.
+
+One other pilot and myself had been ordered to join a flying squadron
+on the southern sector of the British line. The squadron to which we
+were assigned had a great reputation, one of the best in all France,
+and we were very proud to become members of it. Captain Albert Ball,
+who was resting in England at the time, but who came back to France in
+the late spring and was killed within a few weeks, had brought down
+twenty-nine Hun machines as a member of “our” squadron. That was an
+inspiration in itself.
+
+The first day of my stay with the squadron there was no flying, and so
+I wandered about the field hangars looking at the machines. They were
+all of a type I had never seen before at close range--Nieuport Scouts,
+very small and, of course, with but a single seat. Being a French
+model, the Nieuport Scout is a beautiful creature. The distinctly
+British machines--and some of our newer ones are indeed marvels of the
+air--are built strictly for business, with no particular attention paid
+to the beauty of lines. The French, however, never overlook such things.
+
+The modern fighting scout--and to my mind the single-seater is the
+only real aeroplane for offensive work--may have the power of 200
+horses throbbing in its wonderful engine. Some of the machines are
+very slender of waist and almost transparent of wing. Aeroplanes do
+not thrust their warlike nature upon the casual observer. One has to
+look twice before definitely locating the gun or guns attached so
+unobtrusively to the frame-work, and synchronized, where necessary, to
+shoot through the whirring propeller in front. Such guns are connected
+to the engine itself by means of cams, and are so arranged that they
+can fire only when the propeller reaches a given position, thus
+allowing the bullets to pass safely between the blades. It seems like a
+very delicate bit of timing, but the devices are extremely simple.
+
+The nacelle, or cock-pit, of the modern machine, I have heard people
+say, suggests to them the pilot-house of a palatial private yacht in
+miniature. They generally are finished in hard wood and there are
+polished nickel instruments all about you. They indicate height,
+speed, angle, revolutions, and almost everything an airman ought
+to know. There are ingenious sights for the guns and range-finders
+for bomb-dropping. When he is tucked away in the nacelle, a little
+well-like compartment, about as big around as an ordinary barrel, only
+the pilot’s head is visible above the freeboard of the body of the
+machine--the body being technically known as the fuselage. Directly in
+front of the pilot is a little glass wind-screen, a sort of half-moon
+effect.
+
+We newcomers at the squadron--the other pilot and myself--had to stand
+by the next day and watch the patrols leaving to do their work over the
+lines. It was thrilling even to us, accustomed as we were to ordinary
+flying, to see the trim little fighters take the air, one after the
+other, circle above the aerodrome, and then, dropping into a fixed
+formation, set their courses to the east. That night we listened with
+eager ears to the discussion of a fight in which a whole patrol had
+been engaged. We stay-at-homes had spent the day practice-flying in
+the new machines. There were three days more of this for me, and then,
+having passed some standard tests to show my familiarity with the
+Nieuport type, I was told the next morning I was to cross the lines for
+the first time as the master of my own machine.
+
+The squadron commander had been killed the day before I arrived from
+England, and the new one arrived the day after. It rather pleased and
+in a sense comforted me to know that the new commander was also going
+over in a single-seater for the first time when I did. He had been
+flying up to this time a two-seater machine which calls for entirely
+different tactics during a fight. Two-seater machines, as a rule,
+have guns that can be turned about in different positions. On the
+fighting scouts they generally are rigidly fixed. This means that it is
+necessary to aim the machine at anything you wish to fire at.
+
+The night before I was to “go over” I received my orders. I was to
+bring up the rear of a flight of six machines, and I assure you it was
+_some_ task bringing up the rear of that formation. I had my hands full
+from the very start. It seemed to me my machine was slower than the
+rest, and as I wasn’t any too well acquainted with it, I had a great
+time trying to keep my proper place, and to keep the others from losing
+me. I was so busy at the task of keeping up that my impressions of
+outside things were rather vague. Every time the formation turned or
+did anything unexpected, it took me two or three minutes to get back in
+my proper place. But I got back every time as fast as I could. I felt
+safe when I was in the formation and scared when I was out of it, for I
+had been warned many times that it is a fatal mistake to get detached
+and become a straggler. And I had heard of the German “head-hunters,”
+too. They are German machines that fly very high and avoid combat with
+anything like an equal number, but are quick to pounce down upon a
+straggler, or an Allied machine that has been damaged and is bravely
+struggling to get home. Fine sportsmanship, that!
+
+The way I clung to my companions that day reminded me of some little
+child hanging to its mother’s skirts while crossing a crowded street. I
+remember I also felt like a child does when it is going up a dark pair
+of stairs, and is sure something is going to reach out of somewhere and
+grab it. I was so intent on the clinging part that I paid very little
+attention to anything else.
+
+We climbed to a height of more than two miles on our side of the lines,
+then crossed them. There were other formations of machines in the
+air, patrolling at various places. I could see them in the distance,
+but for the life of me I could not tell whether they were friendly
+or hostile. On the chance that they might be the latter, I clung
+closer than ever to my comrades. Then, a long way off, I was conscious
+that a fight was going on between a patrol of our machines and a Hun
+formation. I could make little of it all until finally I saw what
+seemed like a dark ball of smoke falling, and learned afterwards it was
+one of our own machines going down in flames, having been shot and set
+on fire by the enemy airmen.
+
+A few minutes after this my attention was attracted elsewhere. Our old
+friends the “Archies” were after us. It is no snug billet, this being
+in the rear of a formation when the “Archies” are giving a show. They
+always seem to aim at the leading machine, but come closer to hitting
+the one at the end of the procession. The first shot I heard fired
+was a terrific “bang” close to my ears. I felt the tail of my machine
+suddenly shoot up into the air, and I fell about 300 feet before I
+managed completely to recover control. That shot, strange to relate,
+was the closest I have ever had from anti-aircraft fire. The smoke
+from the exploding shell enveloped me. But close as it was, only one
+piece of the flying steel fragments hit my machine. Even that did no
+damage at all.
+
+After recovering control I looked about hastily for the rest of my
+formation, and discovered that by now they were at least half a mile
+away, and somewhat higher than I was. Terrified at being left alone, I
+put my engine on full and, by taking a short cut, managed to catch up
+with them. Much relieved, I fell in under the formation, feeling safe
+again, and not so alone in the world.
+
+We continued to patrol our beat, and I was keeping my place so well
+I began to look about a bit. After one of these gazing spells, I was
+startled to discover that the three leading machines of our formation
+were missing. Apparently they had disappeared into nothingness. I
+looked around hastily, and then discovered them underneath me, diving
+rapidly. I didn’t know just what they were diving at, but I dived,
+too. Long before I got down to them, however, they had been in a short
+engagement half a mile below me, and had succeeded in frightening off
+an enemy artillery machine which had been doing wireless observation
+work. It was a large white German two-seater, and I learned after we
+landed that it was a well-known machine and was commonly called “the
+flying pig.” Our patrol leader had to put up with a lot of teasing that
+night because he had attacked the “pig.” It seems that it worked every
+day on this part of the front, was very old, had a very bad pilot, and
+a very poor observer to protect him.
+
+It was a sort of point of honour in the squadron that the decrepit old
+“pig” should not actually be shot down. It was considered fair sport,
+however, to frighten it. Whenever our machines approached, the “pig”
+would begin a series of clumsy turns and ludicrous manœuvres, and would
+open a frightened fire from ridiculously long ranges. The observer was
+a very bad shot and never succeeded in hitting any of our machines, so
+attacking this particular German was always regarded more as a joke
+than a serious part of warfare. The idea was only to frighten the
+“pig,” but our patrol leader had made such a determined dash at him the
+first day we went over, that he never appeared again. For months the
+patrol leader was chided for playing such a nasty trick upon a harmless
+old man.
+
+During my dive after the three forward machines, I managed to lose them
+and the enemy machine as well. So I turned and went up again, where I
+found two of my companions. We flew around looking for the others, but
+could not find them, so continued the patrol until our time was up and
+then returned to the aerodrome. The missing ones arrived about the same
+time and reported they had had a great many fights, but no decisive
+ones.
+
+About this time the Germans were beginning in earnest their famous
+retreat from the country of the Somme. There had been days upon days
+of heavy fogs and flying had been impossible. A few machines went up
+from time to time, but could see nothing. The wily old Hun had counted
+upon these thick days to shield his well-laid plans, and made the most
+of them. Finally, there came a strong breeze from the south-west
+that swept the fog away and cleared the ground of all mist and haze.
+This was on that wonderfully clear March day just before the Germans
+evacuated Bapaume and left it a mass of ruins. We were early in the
+air, and had no sooner reached our proper height to cross the lines
+than we could see something extraordinary was happening behind the
+German trenches. From 15,000 feet we could see for miles and miles
+around. The ground was a beautiful green and brown, and slightly to the
+south we could see the shell-pitted battlefields of the Somme, each
+shell-hole with glistening water in it.
+
+A few miles to the east there were long streaks of white smoke. Soon
+we realized that the Germans had set fire to scores of villages behind
+their front. From where we flew we could see between fifty and sixty
+of them ablaze. The long smoke-plumes blowing away to the north-east
+made one of the most beautiful ground-pictures I have ever seen from
+an aeroplane, but at the same time I was enraged beyond words. It had
+affected every pilot in the patrol the same way. We flew up and down
+over this burning country for two hours hunting, and wishing for German
+machines to come up and fight, but none appeared. We returned at last
+to the aerodrome and told what we had seen during our patrol, but news
+of the fires had long since been reported by the airmen whose duty
+it is to look out for such things, and our General Staff at once had
+surmised the full import of what was happening.
+
+The next week was full of exciting adventures. For days the clouds hung
+at very low altitudes, seldom being higher than 4,000 feet, and of
+course it was necessary for us to fly underneath them. At times during
+the famous retreat it was hard to tell just where the Germans were
+and where they were not. It was comparatively easy for the soldiers
+on the ground to keep in touch with the German rearguard by outpost
+fighting, but it was for us to keep tabs on the main bodies of troops.
+We would fly over a sector of country from east to west and mark down
+on our maps the points from which we were fired at. It was easy to know
+the Germans were at those particular points. This was very tense and
+exciting work, flying along very low and waiting each second to hear
+the rattle of machine guns or the crack of a shell. We were flaunting
+ourselves as much as possible over the German lines in order to draw
+their fire.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+
+On March 25th came my first real fight in the air, and, as luck would
+have it, my first victory. The German retreat was continuing. Four
+of us were detailed to invade the enemy country, to fly low over the
+trenches, and in general to see what the Boche troops were doing and
+where they were located.
+
+Those were very queer days. For a time it seemed that both
+armies--German and British alike--had simply dissolved. Skirmishes were
+the order of the day on the ground and in the air. The grim, fixed
+lines of battle had vanished for the time being, and the Germans were
+falling back to their famous Hindenburg positions.
+
+The clouds had been hanging low as usual, but after we had gotten well
+in advance of our old lines and into what had been so recently Hunland,
+the weather suddenly cleared. So we began to climb to more comfortable
+altitudes and finally reached about 9,000 feet. We flew about for a
+long while without seeing anything, and then from the corner of my
+eye I spied what I believed to be three enemy machines. They were
+some distance to the east of us, and evidently were on patrol duty to
+prevent any of our pilots or observers getting too near the rapidly
+changing German positions. The three strange machines approached us,
+but our leader continued to fly straight ahead without altering his
+course in the slightest degree. Soon there was no longer any doubt as
+to the identity of the three aircraft--they were Huns, with the big,
+distinguishing black iron crosses on their planes. They evidently were
+trying to surprise us, and we allowed them to approach, trying all the
+time to appear as if we had not seen them.
+
+Like nearly all other pilots who come face to face with a Hun in the
+air for the first time, I could hardly realize that these were real,
+live, hostile machines. I was fascinated by them and wanted to circle
+about and have a good look at them. The German Albatross machines are
+perfect beauties to look upon. Their swept-back planes give them more
+of a birdlike appearance than any other machines flying on the western
+front. Their splendid, graceful lines lend to them an effect of power
+and flying ability far beyond what they really possess. After your
+first few experiences with enemy machines at fairly close quarters you
+have very little trouble distinguishing them in the future. You learn
+to sense their presence, and to know their nationality long before you
+can make out the crosses on the planes.
+
+Finally, the three enemy machines got behind us, and we slowed down so
+that they would overtake us all the sooner. When they had approached
+to about 400 yards, we opened out our engines and turned. One of the
+other pilots, as well as myself, had never been in a fight before,
+and we were naturally slower to act than the other two. My first real
+impression of the engagement was that one of the enemy machines dived
+down, then suddenly came up again and began to shoot at one of our
+people from the rear.
+
+I had a quick impulse and followed it. I flew straight at the attacking
+machine from a position where he could not see me and opened fire. My
+“tracer” bullets--bullets that show a spark and a thin little trail of
+smoke as they speed through the air--began at once to hit the enemy
+machine. A moment later the Hun turned over on his back and seemed to
+fall out of control. This was just at the time that the Germans were
+doing some of their famous falling stunts. Their machines seemed to be
+built to stand extraordinary strains in that respect. They would go
+spinning down from great heights, and just when you thought they were
+sure to crash, they would suddenly come under control, flatten out into
+correct flying position, and streak for the rear of their lines with
+every ounce of horse-power imprisoned in their engines.
+
+When my man fell from his upside-down position into a spinning
+nose-dive, I dived after him. Down he went for a full thousand feet
+and then regained control. I had forgotten caution and everything else
+in my wild and overwhelming desire to destroy this thing that for the
+time being represented all of Germany to me. I could not have been
+more than forty yards behind the Hun when he flattened out, and again
+I opened fire. It made my heart leap to see my smoking bullets hitting
+the machine just where the closely hooded pilot was sitting. Again the
+Hun went into a dive and shot away from me vertically toward the earth.
+
+Suspecting another ruse, and still unmindful of what might be happening
+to my companions in their set-to with the other Huns, I went into a
+wild dive after my particular opponent with my engine full on. With a
+machine capable of doing 110 to 120 miles an hour on the level, I must
+have attained 180 to 200 miles in that wrathful plunge. Meteor-like
+as was my descent, however, the Hun seemed to be falling faster still
+and got farther and farther away from me. When I was still about 1,500
+feet up, he crashed into the ground below me. For a long time I had
+heard pilots speaking of “crashing” enemy machines, but I never fully
+appreciated the full significance of “crashed” until now. There is no
+other word for it.
+
+I have not to this day fully analysed my feelings in those moments of
+my first victory. I don’t think I fully realized what it all meant.
+When I pulled my machine out of its own somewhat dangerous dive, I
+suddenly became conscious of the fact that I had not the slightest
+idea in the world where I was. I had lost all sense of direction and
+distance; nothing had mattered to me except the shooting down of that
+enemy scout with the big black crosses that I shall never forget. Now
+I began to fear that I was well within the enemy country and that it
+was up to me to find some way of getting home. Then, to my dismay,
+I discovered that during our long dive my engine had filled up with
+lubricating oil and had stopped dead still. I tried every little trick
+I knew to coax a fresh start, but it was no use. I had no choice.
+I must land in the country directly beneath me, be it hostile or
+friendly. I turned in what seemed to me by instinct to be the way
+toward our own lines, and glided as far as I could without any help
+from the engine.
+
+I saw beneath me a destroyed village, and my heart sank. I must be
+behind the German lines. Was my real flying career, just begun, to be
+ended so soon? Was I to suffer the fate the flying man most abhors--the
+helpless descent in Hunland and the meek submission to being taken
+prisoner? A hundred thoughts were racing through my head, but in a
+moment they were dispersed. It was that always ghastly rattle of a
+machine gun, firing at me from the ground. This left no doubt but
+that I was over enemy territory. I continued to glide, listlessly,
+toward the ground, not caring much now what the machine gun might do.
+My plight couldn’t be much worse. I was convinced, in fact, that it
+couldn’t possibly be worse. Mechanically, little realizing just what
+I was doing, but all the time following that first great instinct of
+self-preservation, I remember carefully picking out a clear path in the
+rough terrain beneath me, and making a last turn, I glided into it and
+landed.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+                                            Canadian Official Photograph
+
+Pilot’s Seat of Nieuport Scout.]
+
+Some hostile spirit within me made me seize the rocket pistol we used
+to fire signals with in the air--“Very” lights, they are called.
+What I expected to do with such an impotent weapon of offence or
+defence, I don’t know, but it gave me a sort of armed feeling as I
+jumped out of the machine. I ran to a near-by ditch, following the
+irresistible battlefield impulse to “take cover.” I lay for some time
+in the ditch waiting--waiting for my fate, whatever it was to be. Then
+I saw some people crawling toward me. They were anxious moments, and I
+had to rub my eyes two or three times before finally convincing myself
+that the oncoming uniforms were of muddy-brown and homely, if you will,
+but to me that day, khaki was the most wonderful, the most inspiring,
+the most soul-satisfying colour scheme ever beheld by the eyes of man.
+In an instant my whole life-outlook changed; literally it seemed to me
+that by some miracle I had come back from the land of the “missing.”
+
+The British “Tommies” had seen me land and had bravely crawled out
+to help me. They told me I had just barely crossed over into our own
+country; the last 150 yards of my glide had landed me clear of the
+Germans. The soldiers also said we had better try to move the machine,
+as the Germans could see it from the hill opposite and would be sure to
+shell it in a very little while.
+
+With the help of several other men from a field artillery battery we
+hauled the machine into a little valley just before the German shells
+began to arrive. One dropped with a noisy bang some 200 yards away from
+us, and I fell flat on my stomach. I hadn’t seen much land fighting up
+to this time, but I had been told that that was the proper thing to do.
+The Tommies, however, looked at me with amazement. The idea of anybody
+dropping for a shell 200 yards away! They told me there was nothing
+to worry about for the moment, and added, cheerfully, that in a few
+minutes the Huns would be doing a little better shooting.
+
+But I had my own back with the Tommies sooner than I could ever have
+hoped for. This time a shell landed about twenty yards from us, and
+down went everybody but me. I stood up--out of sheer ignorance! I
+didn’t know by the sound of the shell how close it was going to land,
+but the others did and acted accordingly. The joke of the whole thing
+was that the shell was a “dud.” It didn’t explode, and I had the laugh
+on the wise artillerymen.
+
+Eventually we got the machine behind a clump of trees where the Germans
+couldn’t see it, and they decided to waste no more ammunition hunting
+us out. Although it was already 6 o’clock in the evening, I started
+to work on the engine, but after an hour and a half had not succeeded
+in getting a single cough out of any one of the many cylinders. So I
+decided to let matters rest and accept a very cordial invitation to
+spend the night with a battery near by.
+
+It would have been a very interesting night indeed if I could have had
+some real place to sleep, or if I had not been wearing loose, heavy
+flying-clothes, with fleece-lined boots up to my hips, or if it had not
+commenced to rain about 9 o’clock, or if in the middle of the night a
+heavy artillery battle had not started. But in spite of the discomfort
+and the drizzle it was all very interesting and exciting, and seemed to
+me a sort of fitting sequel to my wonderful first day of combat in the
+air.
+
+The next day it continued to rain, and as I received no word from my
+squadron in answer to several telegrams, I borrowed some tools from
+the gunners and again got to work on my choked-up engines. Within a
+few hours she was running beautifully. Now the problem was to find a
+place from which to fly off. The ground was rough and very muddy, but
+I decided to try to “taxi” over it. We had not bumped very far alone,
+however, the machine and I, when a big piece of mud flew up and split
+the propeller. That ended it. There was nothing to do but wait for
+help to come from the squadron. It came the next afternoon, after I
+had spent a terrible night trying to get to the squadron, and rescue
+parties from the squadron had spent an equally terrible night trying
+to get to me. I had landed at a point which had been well behind
+the German lines a few days ago, where the roads had been mined and
+blocked in all manner of ways, and where the German spirit of wanton
+destruction had held high carnival. I had even tried to get through in
+a Ford, but it was no use.
+
+It was about 3 o’clock the second afternoon after I landed that one
+of the rescue parties arrived. They had travelled about 90 miles to
+get to me, although the aerodrome was only 15 miles away. By the third
+afternoon we had succeeded in taking my machine to pieces, and having
+safely loaded it into a motor lorry, began our return journey about
+7 o’clock in the evening. We arrived at the aerodrome at 6.30 the
+next morning. I slept part of the way, but never was so worn out and
+tired in all my life, for many times during the night it was necessary
+to get out and help our car out of the mud. Finally, when about six
+miles from the aerodrome, we went into a mud-hole and stuck. It was
+absolutely impossible to move in any direction, so with one of the men
+I set out afoot to an aerodrome about three miles away. There I pulled
+some sleepy mechanics out of bed and got them to drive me to my own
+aerodrome a little farther along.
+
+Now for the first time I learned exactly what had happened in the fight
+on the 25th. The patrol leader had also destroyed one of the enemy
+machines, while the third Hun had escaped. All of us were perfectly
+safe and none of our machines damaged except my own, which showed a few
+tears from shell fragments.
+
+It seemed to me it had been ages since the fight. But at last I was
+back among my companions--and I had the large total of one machine to
+my credit. There were fellows in the squadron who did not have any,
+however, and I was very proud--so proud and excited over the whole
+episode that, despite my intense weariness, I couldn’t go to sleep
+until late in the afternoon.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+
+The fates had been so kind to me in my first fight in the air, that
+the next time I crossed the lines my squadron commander had designated
+me as patrol leader. I knew this was a difficult job, but it was not
+until after we started out that I knew _how_ difficult. First of all,
+I seemed to be leading too fast; then the pace would become too slow.
+Some of the machines seemed too close to me, and some too far away.
+I wondered why it was that everyone should be flying so badly to-day
+except myself. As a matter of fact, if I had been leading properly, the
+other machines would have found it quite easy to keep in their assigned
+places.
+
+However, one learns by experience, so at the end of two hours I was
+leading much better, and had progressed another step in the school of
+war-flying. The clouds were very thick this day and rolled under us
+at times in great cumulus masses. We caught only occasional glimpses
+of the ground through rifts in the clouds a mile or more apart. It was
+necessary to watch very closely through these holes and to recognize
+familiar places on the ground, otherwise we were likely to get lost and
+never see home again. When our two hours’ tour of duty aloft was ended,
+though, we landed safely at the aerodrome without having seen any enemy
+machines.
+
+Two days later my patrol engaged in one of the bitterest fights I have
+ever known. I knew that night the full meaning of that last line so
+often seen in the British official communiqué: “One of our machines did
+not return.” A second machine barely reached our lines, with the pilot
+so badly wounded he lived but a little while.
+
+The patrol consisted of a flight of six machines. I led my companions
+up to 12,000 feet before heading across the trenches just south of
+Arras. Once over the lines, we turned to the north, not penetrating
+very far into Hunland because of the strong wind that was blowing about
+fifty miles an hour from the west. These westerly gales were one of
+the worst things we had to contend with at the front. They made it very
+easy for us to dash into enemy territory, but it was a very different
+story when we started for home and had to combat the tempest. If an
+airman ever wishes for a favouring wind, it is when he is streaking for
+home.
+
+Seeing the modern war-aeroplanes riding through howling storms reminds
+one that it was not so long ago that a ten-mile breeze would upset
+all flying-plans for a day at any aerodrome or exhibition field. Now
+nothing short of a hurricane can keep the machines on the ground. As
+far as the ability to make good weather of it is concerned, the airman
+of to-day can laugh at a gale and fairly take a nap sitting on a
+forty-mile wind.
+
+We had been over the lines twenty minutes, and were tossing about a bit
+in the storm, when I sighted an enemy machine flying about half a mile
+below me. He was scudding gracefully along just over the top of a layer
+of filmy white clouds. I signalled to the remainder of my patrol that I
+had sighted an enemy, and in another instant I was diving after him.
+As I sped downward I could see the remainder of the patrol coming after
+me. I must have been plunging fully 150 miles an hour at the German
+with the black crosses on his wings, when suddenly out of the clouds,
+and seemingly right under my nose, a second enemy machine appeared. I
+realized now that we were in for serious fighting, that we had run into
+an ambuscade, for it was a great trick of the Germans at this time to
+lurk behind patches of clouds to obtain the advantage of a surprise
+attack. We soon taught them, however, that this was a game at which two
+could play.
+
+When the second machine loomed so suddenly from his hiding-place, I
+naturally transferred my attention to him. I closed to within 150
+yards and then opened fire from directly behind. Nothing happened,
+however, for all my bullets seemed to be going far wide of their mark.
+I was frankly surprised at this and wondered what had happened to
+the marksmanship which had stood me in such good stead in my first
+fight. As a result of these thoughts I neglected to look behind me to
+see if the other machines of the patrol were following, and my first
+intimation that anything was wrong was the sound of machine guns firing
+from somewhere in the rear. I was about to turn my head to see if it
+was one of the patrol firing, when some flaming German bullets shot
+past between my left-hand planes. Then I realized that a third enemy
+machine had gotten on my tail and had a dead shot at me. There was but
+one way to get out of this, and I tried it. I pulled my machine right
+up into the air and turned over backward in a partial loop. As I did so
+the enemy machine flashed by underneath.
+
+It was a narrow escape, but it gave me a breathing-spell in which to
+look around for the remainder of my patrol. They were nowhere to be
+seen. Later I learned that when they were coming down to me, more enemy
+machines had popped out of the clouds, and there had been a sort of
+general mêlée. The machine which got on my tail seemed to have dropped
+out of the clear sky above. In all, it turned out, there were about ten
+of the enemy to six of us.
+
+It was my luck to be mixed up single-handed with three of the Huns.
+Under the circumstances, wisdom seemed to me the better part of valour,
+and I climbed as speedily as I could, eventually managing to get clear
+of their range. Then, looking around, I saw a fight going on about
+a mile farther east. It was a matter of thirty seconds to fly into
+this, and there I found two of my machines in a go at four or five of
+the enemy. We fought for fifteen minutes or more without either side
+gaining an advantage. During all this time, however, we were steadily
+being driven by the gale farther and farther into German territory, and
+were rapidly losing height as well. We figured at this time we must be
+fully fifteen miles behind the Hun lines.
+
+We had circled and dived and fought our way down to about 4,000 feet
+when suddenly about half a mile away I saw one of our patrol fighting
+for his life with two of the enemy. I broke off the futile engagement
+we were in and flew to the lone pilot’s assistance. The other two of my
+pilots also broke away from the Germans and followed me as I headed
+over to help him. At the same moment he succeeded in escaping from
+the two attacking Huns, and we joined up again in a formation of four
+machines. At this time we were as low as 2,500 feet, but by careful
+flying and using the clouds to hide in, we managed to evade all the
+enemy flyers who came swirling after us.
+
+The moment we headed for home, however, all the “Archies” in the
+neighbourhood opened fire on us. We were flying straight into the teeth
+of the fifty-mile gale and were making very little headway against it.
+This slow pace made us an easy mark for the guns, and meant that we had
+to do a lot of dodging. We darted from one cloud to another, using them
+as much as possible for protection. It was again the old instinct of
+“taking cover” or “digging in.”
+
+Reaching the aerodrome, we were very much crestfallen. The battle had
+not been a success, and two of our patrol, two of our most intimate
+friends, had not returned. Later that night, about 11 o’clock, we
+had word that one of the missing machines had landed on our side of
+the lines with the pilot badly wounded. Next morning we heard the
+particulars of a wonderful piece of work done by this gallant boy. He
+was only eighteen, and had been in France but three weeks. The British
+Flying Corps is filled with boys of that age--with spirits of daring
+beyond all compare, and courage so self-effacing as to be a continual
+inspiration to their older brothers in the service.
+
+In the early part of the fight this boy had been hit by an explosive
+bullet, which, entering him from behind, had pierced his stomach and
+exploded there. His machine had been pretty badly shot about, the
+engine damaged, and, therefore, a great resulting loss in efficiency.
+Mortally wounded as he was, however, he fought for ten or fifteen
+minutes with his opponents and then succeeded in escaping. Dazed from
+pain and loss of blood, he flew vaguely in a westerly direction. He had
+no idea where he was, but when the anti-aircraft guns ceased to fire,
+he glided down and landed in a field. Stepping out of his machine, he
+attempted to walk, but had moved scarcely forty steps when he fell in
+a faint. He was hurried to hospital and given the tenderest of care,
+but next morning he died, leaving behind a brave record for his brief
+career in the flying service.
+
+The pilot who did not return was reported missing for about two
+months, and then we heard he had been killed outright, shot dead in
+the air. Upon looking back on this fight now, in the light of my
+later experience, I wonder that any of us got out of it alive. Every
+circumstance was against us, and the formation we ran into was made up
+of the best Hun pilots then in the air. They fought under as favourable
+conditions as they could have wished, and one can only wonder how they
+missed completely wiping us out.
+
+Next day there were only four of us left in my patrol, but we were
+assigned to escort and protect six other machines that were going over
+to get photographs of some German positions about ten miles behind the
+front-line trenches. I had my patrol flying about a thousand feet above
+the photography machines when I saw six enemy single-seater scouts
+climbing to swoop down upon our photography machines. At the same time
+there were two other enemy machines coming from above to engage us.
+
+Diving toward the photography machines, I managed to frighten off
+two of the Boches; then, looking back, I saw one of my pilots being
+attacked by one of the two higher Germans who had made for us. This
+boy, who is now a prisoner of war, had been a school-mate of mine
+before the war. Forgetting everything else, I turned back to his
+assistance. The Hun who was after him did not see me coming. I did not
+fire until I had approached within 100 yards. Then I let go. The Hun
+was evidently surprised. He turned and saw me, but it was too late now.
+I was on his tail--just above and a little behind him--and at fifty
+yards I fired a second burst of twenty rounds. This time I saw the
+bullets going home. As was the case with the first machine I brought
+down, this one also flopped over on its back, then got into a spin, and
+went headlong to the earth, where it crashed a hopeless wreck.
+
+I rejoined the photography machines, which unfortunately in the
+meantime had lost one of their number. We brought the five home safely,
+and the photographs were a huge success.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+
+It was a German boast at this time that their retreat from the Somme
+had upset the offensive plans of the British and French for months to
+come. How untrue this was they were soon to know. We Canadians knew
+that the first big “push” of the spring was to come at Vimy Ridge,
+where the Canadian Corps had been holding the line grimly the entire
+winter through. It had been a trying ordeal for our men, who were
+almost at the foot of the ridge with the Germans everywhere above them.
+
+During all the long cold months of winter the old Boche had been
+looking down on us, pelting the infantry in the trenches with all
+manner of bombs and trench-mortar shells, and making life generally
+uncomfortable. During all this time, however, and in spite of the fact
+that the Germans had direct observation both of our lines and the
+country behind them, we had succeeded in massing a hitherto unheard-of
+number of guns and great forces of reserves for the initial attack of
+the new fighting season.
+
+About April 1st we heard the first rumours of the approaching storm.
+The British artillery was tuning up all along the line, the greatest
+fire being concentrated in the neighbourhood of Arras and the Vimy
+Ridge, running north from that quaint old cathedral city. It was the
+beginning of that great tumult of artillery which eventually was to
+practically blow the top off the ridge--and the Germans with it. Our
+machines had been operating with the guns, ranging them on the German
+lines and the villages where the enemy troops were quartered in the
+rear. There had been much careful “registering” also of the German
+battery positions, so that when the time came for our troops to “go
+over,” the British and Canadian artillery could pour such a torrent
+of shells on the German guns as to keep them safely silent during the
+infantry attack.
+
+At last came the orders for our part in another phase of the “show.”
+It was up to us to “clear the air” during the last days of battle
+preparation. We did not want any more prying eyes looking down upon
+us from the clouds--it was bad enough to have to submit to the
+ground-observation from the German-held ridges. We were already
+accustomed to fighting the enemy aeroplanes over their own ground and
+thus keeping them as far as possible from our lines, but now we were
+assigned to a new job. It was attacking the enemy observation balloons.
+They flew in the same places almost every day--well back of the enemy
+lines; but the observers in them, equipped with splendid telescopes,
+could leisurely look far into our lines and note everything that was
+going on. We proposed to put out these enemy eyes.
+
+We called the big, elongated gasbags “sausages” and the French did
+likewise--“saucisses.” They floated in the air at anywhere from 800 to
+3,000 feet above the ground, and were held captive by cables. These
+cables were attached to some special kind of windlasses which could
+pull the balloons down in an incredibly short space of time. Sometimes
+they would disappear as if by witchcraft. Wherever the sausages
+flew they were protected from aeroplane attack by heavy batteries
+of anti-aircraft guns, and also by what we came to know as “flaming
+onions.” These “flaming onions” appear to consist of about ten balls
+of fire, and are shot from some kind of rocket gun. You can see them
+coming all the way from the ground, and they travel just too fast to
+make it possible to dodge them. I have never had an “onion” nearer than
+200 feet of me, but the effect of these balls of fire reaching for you
+is most terrifying, especially the first time you have the pleasure of
+making their acquaintance.
+
+Our instructions were not only to drive the enemy balloons down, but to
+set fire to and destroy them. This is done by diving on them from above
+and firing some incendiary missile at them--not by dropping bombs on
+them, as one so often hears in London.
+
+The British attack at Arras and Vimy was set for April 9th--Easter
+Monday. On April 5th we started after the sausages. The weather at
+this time was very changeable, chilling snow-squalls being intermingled
+with flashes of brilliant warm sunshine. It was cloudy and misty the
+day our balloon attacks began, and the sausages were not visible
+from our side of the lines. I was assigned to “do in” a particularly
+annoying sausage that used to fly persistently in the same place day
+after day. It was one of the sausages with a queer-shaped head, looking
+for all the world like a real flying pig--sans feet. Any new sort of
+hunting always appealed to me strongly, and I was eager for the chase
+when I crossed into enemy territory in search of my particular game. I
+flew expectantly in the direction where the balloon usually inhabited
+the air, but it was nowhere to be seen. I circled down close to the
+ground to be sure it was not on duty, and immediately found myself in
+the midst of a terrific fire from all manner of guns. Something told
+me to hurry away from there, and I did. The quickest shelter available
+was a rather dark and forbidding cloud, but I made for it with all my
+might, climbing as fast as my little single-seater would take me. What
+a relief it was to be lost in that friendly mist. Continuing to climb,
+I rose at last into the sunshine and then headed for home. My balloon
+had not been up, but my first experience as a sausage hunter had not
+been the pleasantest form of amusement, and I was inclined not to like
+it very much. Later on I met with some success against the balloons;
+but the sport, while exciting, was not to be compared with another
+aeroplane.
+
+The weather cleared late in the afternoon of the 5th, and for the first
+time in my flying career I had the privilege of going out alone in
+search of a fight. There was not an enemy machine in the air, however,
+and I returned with nothing to report.
+
+Next morning, bright and early, I was again out “on my own” in
+search of adventure. I had been flying over the lines for over half
+an hour when suddenly I spied an enemy machine about a mile over in
+Hunland, and some distance above me. In these days I no longer had any
+misgivings as to whether a machine was friend or foe--I had learned
+to sense the enemy. Our greatest difficulty at the time was drawing
+the Huns into a close combat. I set out to see what sort of fighting
+material this particular pilot of the Iron Crosses was made of. Keeping
+him always within view, I climbed to nearly 15,000 feet, and from that
+point of vantage dived upon him. I waited until my plunge had carried
+me to within 150 yards of him before opening fire. I had gotten in a
+burst of probably twenty rounds, when my gun jammed. The Hun saw me
+and dived away as fast as he could go. I dived after him, tinkering
+with the gun all the time, and, finally getting it clear, fired another
+burst at 100 yards. This drove him into a still deeper dive, but he
+flattened out again, and this time I gave him a burst at 50 yards. His
+machine evidently was damaged by my fire, for he now dived vertically
+toward the ground, keeping control, however, and landing safely in a
+field.
+
+This fight gave me a new resolve--to devote more time to target
+practice. I should have destroyed this Hun, but poor shooting had
+enabled him to escape. Going home, I spent an hour that day practising
+at a square target on the ground. Thereafter I gave as much time as
+possible to shooting practice, and to the accuracy I acquired in this
+way I feel I owe most of my successes. Aeroplane target practice is not
+without its dangers. The target on the ground is just about the size
+of the vital spots you aim at in fighting. You have to dive steeply at
+this, and there is very little margin of safety when plunging at full
+speed to within a few feet of the earth.
+
+April 6th and 7th were memorable days in the Flying Corps. The
+public, knowing nothing of the approaching attack which was to go
+down in history as the Battle of Arras, was distinctly shocked when
+the British communiqués for these two days frankly admitted the loss
+of twenty-eight of our machines. We considered this a small price to
+pay for the amount of work accomplished and the number of machines
+engaged, coupled with the fact that all of our work was done within
+the German lines. In the two days that we lost twenty-eight machines,
+we had accounted for fifteen Germans, who were actually seen to
+crash, and thirty-one driven down damaged, many of which must have
+met a similar fate. The British do not officially announce a hostile
+machine destroyed without strict verification. When you are fighting
+a formation of twenty or more Huns in a general mêlée, and one begins
+a downward spin, there is seldom time to disengage yourself and watch
+the machine complete its fatal plunge. You may be morally certain
+the Hun was entirely out of control and nothing could save him, but
+unless someone saw the crash, credit is given only for a machine driven
+down. The Royal Air Force is absolutely unperturbed when its losses on
+any one day exceed those of the enemy, for we philosophically regard
+this as the penalty necessarily entailed by our acting always on the
+offensive in the air.
+
+Technically, the Germans seldom gave a machine “missing,” for the
+fighting is practically always over their territory, and every one of
+their machines driven down can be accounted for, even if it is totally
+destroyed. Many of our losses are due wholly to the fact that we have
+to “carry on” over German territory. Any slight accident or injury
+that compels a descent in Hunland naturally means the total loss of
+the British machine. But such a loss does not involve a German victory
+in combat; it is merely a misfortune for us. If the machine could only
+have reached our side of the lines it might have been repaired in half
+an hour. The public often forgets these things when reading of British
+machines that fail to return.
+
+Every class of our machines was now engaged in the preparations for the
+big offensive. The bombing squadrons were out by day and by night. They
+would fly over the lines with only the stars to guide them and drop
+tons of high-explosive wherever it was considered that the resulting
+damage would have a crippling effect upon the defensive power of the
+German machine. Our photographers were busy during every hour of
+sunlight, and our artillery observing machines were keeping long hours
+in company with the guns, carrying on the preliminary bombardments.
+
+My own experiences on April 7th brought me my first decoration--the
+Military Cross. The thrills were all condensed into a period of two
+minutes for me. In that time I was fortunate enough to shoot down an
+enemy machine and destroy the “sausage” I had started for two days
+before. This should have been excitement enough, but I added to it by
+coming within 15 feet of being taken a German prisoner and becoming an
+unwilling guest of the Huns for the “duration.”
+
+I was ordered after my particular balloon and had climbed to about
+5,000 feet before heading for the lines. On my way there I had to pass
+over one of our own observation-balloons. I don’t know what it was that
+attracted my attention, but, looking down, I saw what appeared to be
+two men descending in parachutes. A moment later the balloon below me
+burst into flames. I saw the enemy machine which had set it on fire
+engaged with some of ours, but as I had definite orders to proceed
+straight to the lines and destroy the hostile balloon which had been
+allotted to me, I was unable to join in the fighting.
+
+Just about this time an amusing incident was in progress at our
+aerodrome. A Colonel of the Corps was telephoning my squadron
+commander, informing him that one of our balloons had just been
+destroyed.
+
+“Well, if it is any consolation, young Bishop, of my squadron, has just
+gone over to get one of theirs,” replied my commander.
+
+“Good God,” said the Colonel, “I hope he has not made a mistake in
+balloon and set ours on fire!”
+
+At this moment I was serenely sailing over the enemy trenches, keeping
+a sharp look-out for some sign of my own balloon. After flying
+five miles over the lines, I discovered it and circled around as a
+preliminary to diving down upon it. But just then I heard the rattle of
+machine guns directly behind me and saw bullet-holes appear as if by
+magic in the wings of my machine. I pulled back as if to loop, sending
+the nose of my machine straight up into the air. As I did so the enemy
+scout shot by underneath me. I stood on my tail for a moment or two,
+then let the machine drop back, put her nose down, and dived after
+the Hun, opening fire straight behind him at very close range. He
+continued to dive away with increasing speed, and later was reported to
+have crashed just under where the combat had taken place. This victory
+I put down entirely to luck. The man flew directly in line with my gun
+and it would have been impossible to have missed him.
+
+I proceeded now to dive for the balloon, but having had so much
+warning, it had been pulled down to the ground. I would have been
+justified in going home when I saw this, for our orders were not to go
+under 1,000 feet after the sausages. But I was just a bit peevish with
+this particular balloon, and to a certain extent my blood was up. So I
+decided to attack the ungainly monster in its “bed.” I dived straight
+for it and when about 500 feet from the ground, opened fire. Nothing
+happened. So I continued to dive and fire rapid bursts until I was only
+50 feet above the bag. Still there were no signs of it catching fire.
+I then turned my machine gun on the balloon crew, who were working
+frantically on the ground. They scattered and ran all about the field.
+Meantime a “flaming onion” battery was attempting to pelt me with
+those unsavoury missiles, so I whirled upon them with a burst of twenty
+rounds or more. One of the onions had flared within a hundred yards of
+me.
+
+This was all very exciting, but suddenly, with a feeling of faintness,
+I realized that my engine had failed. I thought that again, as during
+my first fight, the engine had oiled up from the steep diving I had
+done. It seemed but a moment before that I was coming down at a speed
+that must have been nearly 200 miles an hour. But I had lost it all in
+turning my machine upon the people on the ground.
+
+There was no doubt in my mind this time as to just where I was,
+and there appeared no alternative but to land and give myself up.
+Underneath me was a large open field with a single tree in it. I glided
+down, intending to strike the tree with one wing just at the moment of
+landing, thus damaging the machine so it would be of little use to the
+Huns, without injuring myself.
+
+I was within 15 feet of the ground, absolutely sick at heart with the
+uselessness of it all, my thoughts having turned to home and the worry
+they would all feel when I was reported in the list of the missing,
+when, without warning, one of my nine cylinders gave a kick. Then a
+second one miraculously came to life, and in another moment the old
+engine--the best old engine in all the world--had picked up with a
+roar on all the nine cylinders. Once again the whole world changed for
+me. In less time than it takes to tell it, I was tearing away for home
+at a hundred miles an hour. My greatest safety from attack now lay in
+keeping close to the ground, and this I did. The “Archies” cannot fire
+when you are so close to earth, and few pilots would have risked a
+dive at me at the altitude which I maintained. The machine guns on the
+ground rattled rather spitefully several times, but worried me not at
+all. I had had my narrow squeak for this day, and nothing could stop me
+now. I even had time to glance back over my shoulder, and there, to my
+great joy, I saw a cloud of smoke and flames rising from my erstwhile
+_bête noir_--the sausage. We afterward learned it was completely
+destroyed.
+
+It was a strange thing to be skimming along just above the ground in
+enemy territory. From time to time I would come on groups of Huns
+who would attempt to fire on me with rifles and pistols, but I would
+dart at them and they would immediately scatter and run for cover. I
+flew so low that when I would come to a clump of trees I would have
+to pull my nose straight up toward the sky and “zoom” over them. Most
+of the Germans were so startled to see me right in their midst, as
+it were, they either forgot to fire or fired so badly as to insure
+my absolute safety. Crossing the three lines of German trenches was
+not so comfortable, but by zigzagging and quick dodging I negotiated
+them safely and climbed away to our aerodrome. There I found that no
+bullets had passed very close to me, although my wing-tips were fairly
+perforated.
+
+That evening I was delighted to get congratulations not only from my
+Colonel, but from my Brigadier as well, supplemented later by a wire
+from the General Commanding the Flying Corps. This I proudly sent home
+the same evening in a letter.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+
+Easter Sunday was one of the most beautiful days I have ever seen, and
+we felt that at last the gods of the weather were going to smile on
+a British offensive. The sky was a wonderful blue, flecked only here
+and there with bits of floating white clouds. There was a warmth of
+spring in the sunshine that filled one with the joy of living. Hundreds
+of our machines were aloft to demonstrate anew the fact that we were
+masters of the air. They carried the fighting wholly into the enemy’s
+territory, sought out his aerodromes, his military headquarters, his
+ammunition dumps, his concentration camps, and challenged him in every
+possible manner to come up and fight. Some of our reconnaissance
+machines flew from sixty to ninety miles behind the German lines.
+
+It used to amuse and amaze me to think, on days like this, of the
+marvels that modern flying had accomplished. Our machines were not
+only called upon to fly faster by far than the swiftest birds, but
+to do “stunts” that no bird ever thought of. Whoever heard of a bird
+flying upside-down? Yet there were plenty of our pilots who rather
+delighted in doing this. There are trick flyers just as there are
+trick bicyclists and trick riders in the circus. I belonged to the
+steady flyers’ class, but some day soon I am really going to learn
+to fly, to do aerial acrobatics, and everything. I remember crossing
+the lines one day in the hottest sort of “Archie” fire and suddenly
+seeing below me one of the most remarkable sights of my flying-career.
+The shape of the machine looked a little familiar, and the colour was
+certainly familiar. But there was something queer about the rigging. My
+curiosity was aroused, and in spite of the whistling “Archie” shells
+I determined to have a nearer look at this stranger of the air. As I
+approached I made out something that looked like wheels stuck up toward
+the sky. I was more puzzled than ever for a moment, then realized it
+was a machine upside-down. The wing-tips bore the red, white, and
+blue target markings of the British service, so I flew very close
+to see if anything was wrong. When I got near enough I recognized my
+squadron commander at the time. He was out having an afternoon stroll
+and had deliberately sailed over the lines upside-down, just to show
+his contempt for the Hun “Archies,” and also in the hope that he might
+attract the attention of a “head-hunter,” and thus bring on a little
+excitement.
+
+With the great attack scheduled for dawn the next morning, we went
+at our work on Easter Sunday with an added zest. At 9 o’clock, just
+after the early-morning mist had been driven away by the mounting sun,
+I was due for an offensive patrol--in other words, there were six of
+us going over the lines in search of trouble. Our squadron commander
+was in the flight, and he had been leading us inside Hunland for about
+twenty minutes before anything happened. Then a two-seated machine,
+with the enemy markings on it, appeared underneath us. Our commander
+dived at him like a hawk, and his first burst of fire clearly hit home.
+The enemy machine dived toward the ground, but thinking this might
+be a trick I dived after it, firing all the way. I soon saw, however,
+that the Huns actually had been hurt and were doomed. So I pulled my
+machine out of the dive and looked around for the rest of the patrol.
+They had all disappeared. A moment or two later I sighted a pair of
+our machines engaged in a helter-skelter fight to the left of me, and
+had just started in their direction, when, seemingly out of nowhere
+at all, an enemy scout dived at me. I turned quickly and avoided him.
+Then for several minutes we had a running fight, firing occasionally,
+but neither one of us being able to manœuvre into a position of real
+advantage. Finally, the enemy flew away eastward and escaped.
+
+In the excitement of the fighting I had not noticed it before, but now,
+looking downward, I saw a Boche sausage just beneath me. I plunged at
+it just as the crew began to pull it frantically down. I kept diving
+and firing at the big bag, but as no smoke appeared I gathered I had
+either missed it all the while, or my bullets had failed in their duty
+as “fire-bugs.”
+
+I had dropped to 800 feet in my chase after the bag and could plainly
+see German troops marching toward the support and reserve lines at
+the front. Evidently they were preparing for our assault. The way our
+artillery had been going for a week past left them little room for
+doubt. I flew about watching these troops for some time, despite the
+tell-tale rattle of the machine guns on the ground, but at last decided
+I had better get out of it. I saw a cloud some distance above me and
+decided to climb into it and lose myself. I had just about reached the
+edge of the cloud when another enemy scout decided to have a go at me.
+I had fired about a hundred rounds at him when my gun jammed. I dodged
+away to have time to correct this, and the enemy, immediately seeing
+his advantage, dived after me. He was using explosive bullets, and I
+could see them burst near me from time to time. One hit the machine
+about 3 feet from where I was sitting and exploded, but did no material
+damage. A little more dodging from these ungentlemanly missiles, and
+a little more work, and my gun was right again. So I turned upon
+my pursuer. We fought round and round each other for a seemingly
+interminable time, when at last I saw my chance, darted behind him
+and gave him a short burst of fire. No effect. A second later I got
+him within my sights again, and this time I fired very carefully. His
+machine gave a shiver, then began tumbling toward the earth completely
+out of control. I followed to within a few hundred feet of the ground,
+and as it was still plunging helplessly, I turned away.
+
+The sky around me now seemed entirely deserted. It gave me time to
+speculate as to whether I should climb up to a nice, safe height of
+about two miles and then fly home, or whether I should streak it across
+the trenches as I had done the day before. Recalling some incidents of
+yesterday’s adventures, however, I decided to climb! I proceeded upward
+in wide sweeping circles, looking all the time for any trace of my
+missing comrades. They were not visible, even at 10,000 feet, so I flew
+around a bit more in the hope of finding them.
+
+My search was rewarded, not by meeting my friends, but by the sudden
+appearance of two Hun machines flying in the direction of our lines.
+Drawing a little to one side so as to have a good look at them, I
+discovered they were being escorted and protected by three other
+machines flying well back of and above them. By quick thinking I
+estimated I could make a running attack on the lower two before the
+upper three could get into the affair. I closed in and fired a burst at
+the nearer of the two, but the second one got on my tail and, firing
+very accurately, gave me some of the most uncomfortable moments of
+my fighting-career. One of his bullets grazed my cap as it passed my
+head, then crashed through the little wind-screen just in front of
+me. This was too much, so, leaving my pursuit of the first machine,
+I turned and paid attention to Number 2. Hun No. 1, in the meantime,
+evidently decided he had had enough, for he kept flying away as fast as
+he could. In turning on the second machine I chanced to find myself in
+an ideal position, and my first burst of fire sent him spinning in an
+uncontrolled nose-dive, which ended a few seconds later in a “crash”
+just beneath me.
+
+I figured that by this time the upper three were due, and, turning,
+found all of them diving for me, firing with all their guns. There
+was no time for any choice of tactics on my part, so I headed for the
+enemy machines and flew directly under them, managing to get in a good
+burst of fire upward at the leading two-seater that seemed particularly
+anxious for a fight. He wasn’t so anxious as I had thought, for after
+the first exchange of shots he kept diving away and did not return.
+The other two, however, remained on the “field” of battle. I estimated
+by this time that I had only about forty rounds of ammunition left
+for my gun; but again there was no real choice for me. I had either
+to fight or be attacked in a very nasty position; so I fought. My two
+adversaries had seen the previous combats, and when I showed fight
+toward them they seemed none too anxious to prolong the fray. I had
+just finished my last bullet when the two of them dived away in
+opposite directions and left me--“lord of all I surveyed.”
+
+There was not another machine in the sky now, and, thankful for that
+fact, I headed for home with my throttle pushed wide open, and landed
+without any more excitement. When I turned in my report, especially
+the part dealing with the fight with the formation of five enemy
+machines, some of the squadron looked on me as some sort of wild man
+or fire-eater just escaped from the Zoo. The Colonel telephoned up and
+said that I had better not fly any more that day, so I was given the
+afternoon off.
+
+As we had to be ready to fly with the dawn next morning, we were early
+to bed on Easter night. As we turned in, the British guns were roaring
+all along the far-reaching battle-line. The whole horizon was lighted
+with their flashes, like the play of heat-lightning on a sultry summer
+evening. I knew the meaning and the menace in the booming of the
+cannon, but I slept the sound slumber of a little child.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+
+Dawn was due at 5.30 o’clock on Easter Monday, and that was the exact
+hour set for the beginning of the Battle of Arras. We were up and had
+our machines out of the hangars while it was still night. The beautiful
+weather of a few hours before had vanished. A strong, chill wind was
+blowing from the east and dark, menacing clouds were scudding along low
+overhead.
+
+We were detailed to fly at a low altitude over the advancing infantry,
+firing into the enemy trenches, and dispersing any groups of men or
+working troops we happened to see in the vicinity of the lines. Some
+phases of this work are known as “contact patrols,” the machines
+keeping track always of the infantry advance, watching points where
+they may be held up, and returning from time to time to report just
+how the battle is going. Working with the infantry in a big attack is
+a most exciting experience. It means flying close to the ground and
+constantly passing through our own shells as well as those of the enemy.
+
+The shell fire this morning was simply indescribable. The bombardment
+which had been going on all night gradually died down about 5 o’clock,
+and the Germans must have felt that the British had finished their
+nightly “strafing,” were tired out and going to bed. For a time almost
+complete silence reigned over the battlefields. All along the German
+lines star-shells and rocket-lights were looping through the darkness.
+The old Boche is always suspicious and likes to have the country around
+him lighted up as much as possible so he can see what the enemy is
+about.
+
+The wind kept growing stiffer and stiffer and there was a distinct
+feel of rain in the air. Precisely at the moment that all the British
+guns roared out their first salvo of the battle, the skies opened and
+the rain fell in torrents. Gunfire may or may not have anything to do
+with rainmaking, but there was a strange coincidence between the shock
+of battle and the commencement of the downpour this morning. It was
+beastly luck, and we felt it keenly. But we carried on.
+
+The storm had delayed the coming of day by several minutes, but as
+soon as there was light enough to make our presence worth while we
+were in the air and braving the untoward elements just as the troops
+were below us. Lashed by the gale, the wind cut the face as we moved
+against the enemy. The ground seemed to be one mass of bursting shells.
+Farther back, where the guns were firing, the hot flames flashing
+from thousands of muzzles gave the impression of a long ribbon of
+incandescent light. The air seemed shaken and literally full of shells
+on their missions of death and destruction. Over and over again one
+felt a sudden jerk under a wing-tip, and the machine would heave
+quickly. This meant a shell had passed within a few feet of you. As
+the battle went on the work grew more terrifying, because reports came
+in that several of our machines had been hit by shells in flight and
+brought down. There was small wonder of this. The British barrage
+fire that morning was the most intense the war had ever known. There
+was a greater concentration of guns than at any time during the Somme.
+In fact, some of the German prisoners said afterwards that the Somme
+seemed a Paradise compared to the bombardments we carried out at
+Arras. While the British fire was at its height the Germans set up a
+counter-barrage. This was not so intense, but every shell added to the
+shrieking chorus that filled the stormy air made the lot of the flying
+man just so much more difficult. Yet the risk was one we could not
+avoid; we had to endure it with the best spirit possible.
+
+The waves of attacking infantry as they came out of their trenches and
+trudged forward behind the curtain of shells laid down by the artillery
+were an amazing sight. The men seemed to wander across No Man’s Land,
+and into the enemy trenches, as if the battle was a great bore to them.
+From the air it looked as though they did not realize that they were
+at war and were taking it all entirely too quietly. That is the way
+with clock-work warfare. These troops had been drilled to move forward
+at a given pace. They had been timed over and over again in marching
+a certain distance, and from this timing the “creeping” or rolling
+barrage which moved in front of them had been mathematically worked
+out. And the battle, so calmly entered into, was one of the tensest,
+bitterest of the entire world-war.
+
+For days the battle continued, and it was hard work and no play for
+everybody concerned. The weather, instead of getting better, as spring
+weather should, gradually got worse. It was cold, windy, and wet.
+Every two or three hours sudden snow-storms would shut in, and flying
+in these squalls, which obliterated the landscape, was very ticklish
+business.
+
+On the fourth day of the battle I happened to be flying about 500 feet
+above the trenches an hour after dawn. It had snowed during the night
+and the ground was covered with a new layer of white several inches
+thick. No marks of the battle of the day before were to be seen; the
+only blemishes in the snow mantle were the marks of shells which had
+fallen during the last hour. No Man’s Land itself, so often a filthy
+litter, was this morning quite clean and white.
+
+Suddenly over the top of our parapets a thin line of infantry crawled
+up and commenced to stroll casually toward the enemy. To me it seemed
+that they must soon wake up and run; that they were altogether too
+slow; that they could not realize the great danger they were in. Here
+and there a shell would burst as the line advanced or halted for a
+moment. Three or four men near the burst would topple over like so many
+tin soldiers. Two or three other men would then come running up to the
+spot from the rear with a stretcher, pick up the wounded and the dying,
+and slowly walk back with them. I could not get the idea out of my head
+that it was just a game they were playing at; it all seemed so unreal.
+Nor could I believe that the little brown figures moving about below
+me were really men--men going to the glory of victory or the glory of
+death. I could not make myself realize the full truth or meaning of it
+all. It seemed that I was in an entirely different world, looking
+down from another sphere on this strange, uncanny puppet-show.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+                                            Canadian Official Photograph
+
+Nieuport Scout.]
+
+Suddenly I heard the deadly rattle of a nest of machine guns under me,
+and saw that the line of our troops at one place was growing very thin,
+with many figures sprawling on the ground. For three or four minutes I
+could not make out the concealed position of the German gunners. Our
+men had halted, and were lying on the ground, evidently as much puzzled
+as I was. Then in a corner of a German trench I saw a group of about
+five men operating two machine-guns. They were slightly to the flank of
+our line, and evidently had been doing a great amount of damage. The
+sight of these men thoroughly woke me up to the reality of the whole
+scene beneath me. I dived vertically at them with a burst of rapid
+fire. The smoking bullets from my gun flashed into the ground, and it
+was an easy matter to get an accurate aim on the German automatics, one
+of which turned its muzzle toward me.
+
+But in a fraction of a second I had reached a height of only 30
+feet above the Huns, so low I could make out every detail of their
+frightened faces. With hate in my heart I fired every bullet I could
+into the group as I swept over it, then turned my machine away. A
+few minutes later I had the satisfaction of seeing our line again
+advancing, and before the time had come for me to return from my
+patrol, our men had occupied all the German positions they had set out
+to take. It was a wonderful sight and a wonderful experience. Although
+it had been so difficult to realize that men were dying and being
+maimed for life beneath me, I felt that at last I had seen something of
+that dogged determination that has carried British arms so far.
+
+The next ten days were filled with incident. The enemy fighting
+machines would not come close to the lines, and there was very little
+doing in the way of aerial combats, especially as far as I was
+concerned, for I was devoting practically all of my time to flying low
+and helping the infantry. All of our pilots and observers were doing
+splendid work. Everywhere we were covering the forward movement of
+the infantry, keeping the troops advised of any enemy movements, and
+enabling the British artillery to shell every area where it appeared
+concentrations were taking place. Scores of counter-attacks were
+broken up before the Germans had fairly launched them. Our machines
+were everywhere back of the enemy lines. It was easy to tell when the
+Germans were massing for a counter-stroke. First of all our machines
+would fly low over the grey-clad troops, pouring machine-gun bullets
+into them or dropping high-explosive bombs in their midst. Then the
+exact location of the mobilization point would be signalled to the
+artillery, so that the moment the Germans moved our guns were on them.
+In General Orders commending the troops for their part in the battle,
+Field-Marshal Sir Douglas Haig declared that the work of the Flying
+Corps, “under the most difficult conditions,” called for the highest
+praise.
+
+We were acting, you might say, as air policemen. Occasionally one of
+our machines would be set upon by the German gangsters--they were
+“careful” fighters and seldom attacked unless at odds of four to
+one--and naturally we suffered some casualties, just as the ordinary
+police force suffers casualties when it is doing patrol duty in an
+outlaw country. The weather was always favourable to the German methods
+of avoiding “open-air” combats. Even the clearer days were marked by
+skies filled with clouds sufficiently large and dense enough to offer
+protection and hiding-places to the high winging Hun machines.
+
+I had several skirmishes, but did not succeed in bringing down another
+machine until April 20th, when I was fortunate enough to begin another
+series of extremely interesting and successful fights. I was promoted
+to be a Captain about this time and thought I was very happy; but the
+promotion was followed by another incident which really made me proud.
+The sergeants of my squadron had made me a round “nose” for my machine.
+It fitted on the propeller head and revolved with it. I had it painted
+a brilliant blue, and from that time on my machine was known as “Blue
+Nose.” It was given to me, the Sergeant-Major explained, as a sign that
+I was an “Ace”--that I had brought down more than five machines. I was
+so pleased with this tribute from the men that I took old “Blue Nose”
+visiting to several other squadrons, where I exhibited my new mark of
+distinction to many of my friends and flying companions.
+
+The machine I got on April 20th was the first I ever destroyed in
+flames. It is a thing that often happens, and while I have no desire
+to make myself appear as a bloodthirsty person, I must say that to see
+an enemy going down in flames is a source of great satisfaction. You
+know his destruction is absolutely certain. The moment you see the fire
+break out you know that nothing in the world can save the man, or men,
+in the doomed aeroplane. You know there is no “camouflage” in this, and
+you have no fear that the enemy is trying any kind of flying trick in
+the hope that he will be left alone.
+
+I was flying over a layer of white clouds when I saw a two-seater just
+above me. We generally met the enemy in force during these days, but
+this German machine was all alone. Neither the pilot nor observer
+saw me. They flew along blissfully ignorant of my existence, while I
+carefully kept directly underneath them, climbing all the time. I was
+only ten yards behind the Hun when I fired directly up at him. It had
+been an exciting game getting into position underneath him, carefully
+following every move he made, waiting, hoping, and praying that he
+would not see me before I got into the place I wanted. I was afraid
+that if he did see me I would be at a distinct disadvantage below
+him. My hand must have been shaky, or my eye slightly out, because,
+although I managed to fire ten rounds, I did not hit anything vital.
+Even in this crucial moment the humour of the situation almost got
+the better of me. My machine seemed so little, carefully flying there
+under the big, peaceful Hun, who thought he was so safe and so far
+from any danger. Suddenly, from just underneath him, he heard the
+“tat-tat-tat-tatter-tatter” of my machine gun almost in his ear, the
+range was so close. Then he must have seen my smoking bullets passing
+all around him. Anyway, there was consternation in the camp. He
+turned quickly, and a regular battle in the air began between the two
+of us. We manœuvred every way possible, diving, rolling, stalling; he
+attempting to get a straight shot at me, while my one object was to get
+straight behind him again, or directly in front of him, so as to have a
+direct line of fire right into him.
+
+Twice I dived at him and opened fire from almost point-blank range,
+being within two lengths of him before I touched the lever which set
+my gun to spouting. But there was no success. The third time I tried a
+new manœuvre. I dived at him from the side, firing as I came. My new
+tactics gave the German observer a direct shot at me from his swivel
+gun, and he was firing very well too, his bullets passing quite close
+for a moment or two. Then, however, they began to fly well beyond my
+wing-tips, and on seeing this I knew that his nerve was shaken. I could
+now see my own bullets hitting the right part of the Hun machine, and
+felt confident the battle soon would be over.
+
+I pulled my machine out of its dive just in time to pass about 5 feet
+over the enemy. I could see the observer evidently had been hit and had
+stopped firing. Otherwise the Hun machine seemed perfectly all right.
+But just after I passed I looked back over my shoulder and saw it burst
+into flames. A second later it fell a burning mass, leaving a long
+trail of smoke behind as it disappeared through the clouds. I thought
+for a moment of the fate of the wounded observer and the hooded pilot
+into whose faces I had just been looking--but it was fair hunting, and
+I flew away with great contentment in my heart.
+
+This fight seemed to have changed my luck for the better. Everywhere I
+went for the next few weeks enemy machines were easily found, and I had
+numerous combats, many of them successful. Some days I could have been
+accused of violating all the rules of a flying men’s union (if we had
+had one). I would fly as much as seven and a half hours between sunrise
+and sunset. Far from affecting my nerves, the more I flew the more I
+wanted to fly, the better I seemed to feel, and each combat became
+more and more enjoyable. Ambition was born in my breast, and, although
+I still dared not entertain hope of equalling the record of the
+renowned Captain Ball, who by this time had shot down over thirty-five
+machines, I did have vague hopes of running second to him.
+
+Along with the new ambition there was born in me as well a distinct
+dislike for all two-seated German flying machines! They always seemed
+so placid and sort of contented with themselves. I picked a fight
+with the two-seaters wherever I could find one, and I searched for
+them high and low. Many people think of the two-seater as a superior
+fighting machine because of its greater gun-power. But to me they
+always seemed fair prey and an easy target. One afternoon, soon after
+this new Hun hatred had become a part of my soul, I met a two-seater
+about three miles over the German lines and dived at him from a very
+low height. As bad luck would have it, my gun had a stoppage, and while
+I turned away to right it, the enemy escaped. Much disgusted, I headed
+away homeward, when into my delighted vision there came the familiar
+outlines of another Hun with two men aboard. I flew at this new enemy
+with great determination; but after a short battle he dived away from
+me, and although I did my best to catch him up, I could not. He landed
+in a field underneath me. To see him calmly alight there under perfect
+control filled me with a towering rage. I saw red things before my
+eyes. I vowed an eternal vendetta against all the Hun two-seaters in
+the world, and, the impulse suddenly seizing me, I dived right down to
+within a few feet of the ground, firing a stream of bullets into the
+machine where it was sitting. I had the satisfaction of knowing that
+the pilot and observer must have been hit, or nearly scared to death,
+for, although I hovered about for quite a long time, neither of them
+stepped from the silent machine.
+
+Half an hour after this occurrence I saw one of our machines in
+difficulties with three of the enemy. The Huns were so engrossed with
+the thought that they had a single British machine at their mercy, I
+felt there was a good chance that I might slip up and surprise them. My
+scheme worked beautifully. I came up to within 15 yards of one of the
+Huns, and, aiming my machine at him with dead accuracy, shot him down
+with my first ten bullets. He probably never knew where the bullets
+came from, not having the slightest idea another British machine was
+anywhere in that part of the sky. I turned now to assist with the
+other two Huns, but by this time my brother-pilot had sent one of them
+spinning out of control, while the last remaining enemy was making
+good his escape as fast as his Mercédès engine could pull him through
+the air. It is surprising sometimes how much dead resistance there is
+in the air when you are in a hurry. Having nothing better to do under
+the circumstances, I dived down after my own victim to get a view of
+the crash. I was just in time. He struck the ground at the corner of a
+field, and what was one instant a falling machine was next a twisted
+bit of wreckage.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+
+It was apparent to us by this time that the Germans were bringing their
+best pilots opposite the British front to meet the determined offensive
+we had been carrying on since April 1st. Most of the machines we met
+were handled in a manner far above the German average. Each night our
+pilots brought in exciting stories of the chase. Although they were a
+higher class of fighting men than we had hitherto flown against, the
+Germans still showed a reluctance to attack unless they outnumbered us
+by at least three to one. One lone German was induced to take a fatal
+chance against a British scout formation. By clever manœuvring, at
+which the hostile airman was also quite adept, we managed to entice
+him to attack one of our machines from behind. As he did so, a second
+British machine dived at him, and down he went, one of his wings
+breaking off as he fell.
+
+I can best illustrate the German tactics of the time by telling the
+experience of one of our faithful old photographic machines, which, by
+the way, are not without their desperate moments and their deeds of
+heroism. All of which goes to show that the fighting scouts should not
+get all the credit for the wonders of modern warfare in the air. The
+old “photographer” in question was returning over the lines one day
+when it was set upon by no less than eleven hostile scouts. Nearly all
+the controls of the British machine were shot away, and the observer,
+seriously wounded, fell half-way out of the nacelle. Although still
+manœuvring his machine so as to escape the direct fire of the enemies
+on his tail, the British pilot grasped the wounded observer, held him
+safely in the machine, and made a safe landing in our lines. A moment
+later the riddled aeroplane burst into flames. Under heavy shell-fire
+the pilot carried the wounded observer to safety.
+
+One of the distinguished German flying squadrons opposite us was under
+command of the famous Captain Baron von Richtofen. One day I had the
+distinction of engaging in three fights in half an hour with pilots
+from this squadron. Their machines were painted a brilliant scarlet
+from nose to tail--immense red birds, they were, with the graceful
+wings of their type, Albatross scouts. They were all single-seaters,
+and were flown by pilots of undeniable skill. There was quite a little
+spirit of sportsmanship in this squadron, too. The red German machines
+had two machine guns in fixed positions firing straight ahead, both
+being operated from the same control.
+
+The first of my three fights with these newcomers in our midst occurred
+when I suddenly found myself mixed up with two of them. Evidently they
+were not very anxious for a fight at the moment, for, after a few
+minutes of manœuvring, both broke it off and dived away. Ten minutes
+later I encountered one of the red machines flying alone. I challenged
+him, but he wouldn’t stay at all. On the contrary, he made off as fast
+as he could go. On my return from chasing him I met a second pair of
+red Huns. I had picked up company with another British machine, and
+the two Huns, seeing us, dived into a cloud to escape. I went in after
+them, and on coming out again found one directly beneath me. On to
+him I dived, not pulling the trigger until I was 15 yards away. Once,
+twice, three times I pressed the lever, but not a shot from my gun! I
+slipped away into another cloud and examined the faithless weapon, only
+to find that I had run completely out of ammunition. I returned home
+quite the most disgusted person in the entire British Army.
+
+During the changeable days of the Arras offensive we had many exciting
+adventures with the weather. On one occasion I had gone back to the
+aircraft depot to bring to the front a new machine. Sunshine and
+snow-squalls were chasing each other in a seemingly endless procession.
+On the ground the wind was howling along at about fifty miles an hour.
+I arrived at the depot at 9 o’clock in the morning, but waited about
+until four in the afternoon before the weather appeared to be settling
+down to something like a safe and sane basis. The sunshine intervals
+were growing longer and the snow periods shorter, so I climbed into
+my machine and started off. It was only a fifteen minutes’ fly to the
+aerodrome, but in that time a huge black cloud loomed up and came
+racing toward me. I was headed straight into the gale, and the way was
+so rough from the rush of the wind and the heavy clouds floating by
+that the little machine was tossed about like a piece of paper. Several
+times I thought I was going to be blown completely over. Occasionally,
+without any warning, I would be lifted a sheer hundred feet in the
+air. Then later I would be dropped that distance, and often more. I
+was perspiring freely, although it was a very cold day. It was a race
+against the weather to reach my destination in time.
+
+One cannot see in a snowstorm, and I felt that if the fleecy squall
+struck me before I sighted the aerodrome I would have to land in a
+ploughed field, and to do this in such a gale would be a very ticklish
+proposition. Added to all this, I was flying a machine of a type I had
+never handled before, and naturally it was a bit strange to me. Nearer
+and nearer the big cloud came. But I was racing for home at top speed.
+About half a mile from the haven I sought, the storm struck me. The
+moment before the snow deluge came, however, I had recognized the road
+that led to the aerodrome, and coming down to 50 feet, where I could
+just make it out, I flew wildly on, praying all the time that the snow
+striking my engine would not cause it to stop. Then the awful thought
+came to me that perhaps I was on the wrong road. Then, even more
+suddenly than it had come, the snow stopped--the storm had swept right
+over me. There, just ahead of me, I saw the tents and hangars and the
+flying pennant of the aerodrome--home. This was my first experience in
+flying through snow, and I did not care for another.
+
+A few days after my unsuccessful experience with the red Richtofen
+scouts, I got my just revenge and a little more back from the Huns. My
+Major had been told to have some photographs taken of a certain point
+behind the German lines, and by special permission he was given the
+privilege of taking them himself. The point to be photographed was
+about seven miles in German territory, and in order to make a success
+of the snapshotting it would be necessary to have a strong escort. The
+Major offered to go out and do the photographs on his own without an
+escort, but the Colonel would not hear of it, and so it was arranged
+that an offensive patrol would go out at 9 o’clock in the morning, meet
+the Major at a given point, and escort him over the ground he wished to
+cover.
+
+My patrol was the one working at the time, and I was the leader. At
+9.30 we were to meet, just east of Arras, at 6,000 feet. The rendezvous
+came off like clockwork. I brought the patrol to the spot at 9.28, and
+two minutes later we spied a single Nieuport coming toward us. I fired
+a red signal light and the Nieuport answered. It was the Major. I then
+climbed slightly and led the patrol along about 1,000 feet above the
+Nieuport in order to protect the Major and at the same time keep high
+enough to avoid too much danger from anti-aircraft fire. We got to
+the area to be photographed without any other excitement than a very
+heavy greeting from the “Archies.” There were a number of big white
+clouds floating around about 6,000 feet, and these made it difficult
+for the guns to shoot at us. But they also made it difficult for the
+Major to get his photographs. We went around and around in circles for
+what seemed an eternity. During one of these sweeping turns I suddenly
+saw four enemy scouts climbing between two clouds and some distance
+off. I knew they would see us soon, so it occurred to me it would be
+a brilliant idea to let the enemy think there was only one British
+machine on the job. Under these circumstances I knew they would be sure
+to attack, and then the rest of us could swoop down and surprise them.
+I had no intention of letting the Major in for any unnecessary risks,
+but it seemed such a rare chance, I could not resist it.
+
+I led the patrol about 2,000 feet higher up and there we waited.
+The enemy scouts did not see us at all, but they did see the Major.
+And they made for him. The first the Major knew of their approach,
+however, was when they were about 200 yards away, and one of
+them, somewhat prematurely, opened fire. His thoughts--he told me
+afterward--immediately flew to the patrol, and he glanced over his
+shoulder to see where we were. But we had vanished. He then wondered
+how much money he had in his pockets, as he did not doubt that the
+four Huns, surprising him as they had, would surely get him. Despite
+these gloomy and somewhat mercenary thoughts, the Major was fighting
+for his life. First he turned the nose of his machine directly toward
+the enemy, poured a burst of bullets toward a German at his right; then
+turned to the left, as the second machine approached in that direction,
+and let him have a taste of British gunfire as well. This frightened
+the first two Huns off for a moment, and, in that time, I arrived down
+on the scene with the rest of the patrol.
+
+One of the Huns was firing at the Major’s machine as I flashed by
+him, and I fired at a bare ten yards’ range. Then I passed on to the
+second enemy machine, firing all the while, and eventually passing
+within 5 feet of one of his wing-tips. Turning my machine as quickly
+as I could, I was yet too late to catch the other two of the formation
+of four. They had both dived away and escaped. I had hit the two that
+first attacked the Major, however, and they were at the moment falling
+completely out of control 1,000 or more feet below me, and finally went
+through the clouds, floundering helplessly in the air.
+
+This little interruption ended, we all reassembled in our former
+positions and went on with the photographing. This was finished in
+about fifteen minutes, and, under a very heavy anti-aircraft fire,
+we returned home. The episode of the four Huns was perhaps the most
+successful bit of trapping I have ever seen, but it was many weeks
+before the squadron got through teasing me for using our commander as
+a decoy. I apologized to the Major, who agreed with me that the chance
+was too good a one to miss.
+
+“Don’t mind me,” he said; “carry on.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+
+Just to show there was no ill-feeling, the Major that afternoon
+proposed some excitement of an entirely different sort. There was no
+patrol marked down for us, so the Major took another pilot and myself
+out on a sort of Cook’s tour. We called it “seeing the war.” We all
+piled into an automobile, drove through poor old shell-torn Arras,
+which was fairly stiff with troops moving up toward the front and with
+relieved divisions that were coming out of the line for hard-earned
+rest. Occasionally there was the screech of a “Whistling Percy”
+overhead--a shell from a long-range 16-inch naval gun some miles beyond
+the German lines. It was vastly different from flying, this motoring
+through Arras, threading your way tediously in and out of the marching
+troops and the interminable traffic of offensive warfare.
+
+Finally, we passed the railway-station, which had long been a favourite
+target for the German gunners, but still showed some semblance of its
+former utility; turned “Dead Man’s Corner” into the road for Cambrai,
+proceeded over what had once been our front line, then over the old
+No Man’s Land, and finally came to a halt some miles beyond the city.
+There we left the car behind the crest of a hill, and out of direct
+observation from the enemy trenches, which were not very far away. We
+were very bold, we three musketeers of the upper air, as we set out
+afoot, without a guide, to make our way toward a German machine that
+had been brought down a few days before just inside our lines.
+
+On the way we had to pass about thirty batteries of artillery, and as
+no one said anything to us we presumed we were all right in strolling
+along in front of them. The guns seemed harmless enough, sitting there
+so cold and silent. However, before we had gone so very far, a man
+crawled out of a hole in the ground and told us that if we were going
+anywhere in particular we had better hurry, as a battle was due to
+start in just five minutes. We questioned him about the “show,” and
+then decided to walk on as fast as we could and reach the village of
+Monchy, which sat a mass of ruins on a little hill, and was just 200
+yards within our lines.
+
+Monchy-le-Preux, to give the little town the full dignity of its
+Artois name, is about five miles east of Arras, and was the final
+fixed objective of the Easter drive. It is the highest bit of ground
+between Arras and the German border. Around it swirled some of the most
+desperate fighting of the entire war. It had been a pretty little place
+up to a few days before, but the moment the Germans had been driven
+from their defensive works about the village, many of them at the
+point of the bayonet, the German artillery was turned on Monchy in a
+perfect torrent of explosive shells. What had once been houses quickly
+disappeared, or were dissolved into jagged ruins. Our infantry had
+found three bed-ridden French civilians still living in Monchy when we
+took it, but fortunately for them they had been passed back to one of
+our hospitals before the Boche started his destructive bombardments.
+
+It was just 3 o’clock when all the guns behind us opened fire over
+our heads. I must admit that I was at least “nervous” for the next
+half-hour. Shells were going over us by the thousand, and pretty soon
+the Germans started their retaliatory fire. Many of the Boche shells
+landed quite near to us. We could see them explode and throw up from
+the ground great fountains of earth and débris, but we could not hear
+them on account of the roar of our own artillery.
+
+There we were, the three of us, in the midst of a battle that we
+didn’t know a thing on earth about. My nervousness grew perceptibly as
+I looked around and realized that in the whole of the country there
+was not another soul walking about. Everyone was under cover, or dug
+in somewhere, except us three. However, we decided there was no going
+back; so we went on.
+
+Our taking refuge in Monchy was surely a case of ignorance being bliss.
+We crawled into the wrecked village, having passed, without knowing
+it, another “Dead Man’s Corner” far deadlier than the one in Arras
+itself. This Monchy corner had a speciality of its own--machine-gun
+fire. The Germans used to rake it many times a day. Evidently they were
+engaged in some other nefarious occupation as we walked blithely by the
+place, on into the village, then down the main street, picking our way
+carefully in a zigzag course among the débris. About this time another
+good Samaritan hailed us. He came dashing out of a house and told us
+to run for cover. Not knowing any cover of our own, we followed him to
+his. He led us into a deep dugout the Germans had built during their
+occupancy of the town. We told our guide and friend that we wanted to
+move on very shortly, but he laughed and said we would have no choice
+in the matter for the next few hours. He knew the habits of the Huns in
+that particular locality. Promptly at 4 o’clock the Germans began their
+daily bombardment. Our friend and guide, now turned philosopher, told
+us the Germans had the dugout “registered” very accurately, and it
+would be unsafe to move from it until the firing was over for the day.
+We were shut up in this hole for an hour or more, when we decided to
+take our chances and go home.
+
+We were very much worried, in the meantime, that our car, resting on
+the high-road, might have been hit. Everything pointed to the fact
+that it was time for us to go. So, in a temporary lull, we crawled out
+and made a dash through the village. We did not leave by the same way
+we had come. We knew too much by this time of “Dead Man’s Corner.”
+Once clear of Monchy we noticed that a large number of shells were
+dropping in a sort of barrier about 400 yards in front of us. We
+pressed on, nevertheless, in the hope that there would be a sufficient
+lull in the firing to let us slip through the shell line. No lull
+appeared imminent, however, so we turned away to the right to avoid
+the particular spots that apparently had aroused the Germans’ ire. We
+had not gone far when a huge shell dropped about 30 yards from us. It
+knocked two of us clean off our feet and on our backs in the mud.
+It was rude, we thought, to treat three unoffending airmen out for a
+holiday like this, so we were more than ever anxious to get out of it
+all. At last we arrived at some derelict tanks, left over from last
+week’s battles, and there we found an ammunition column passing back
+from the guns. We climbed aboard one of the empty limbers, glad of the
+lift, and gladder still of the company of these imperturbable khaki
+soldiers who were taking the events of the afternoon with that strange
+spirit of boredom one so often finds up near the firing-lines.
+
+We told the drivers we had left our car over the hill near a stranded
+tank, and they assured us they were going in that very direction. So
+we sat peacefully on the rattling limber for a mile or more. Then,
+being quite certain we were going the wrong way, we inquired of the
+ammunition-column men how far it was to their tank. They said it was
+just ahead of us. We looked. There was a tank, quite all right, but it
+was not _our_ tank. A little more explaining to the soldiers that were
+now quite plentiful about us, and we were informed that our tank was
+at least a mile and a half away. We had made a stupid mistake, but we
+paid for it in the muddy walk we had back.
+
+The car was perfectly safe when we got to it, and some time later we
+returned to the aerodrome right as rain. We had picked up a lot of
+souvenirs during our walk into Monchy and out again, and felt like
+Cook’s tourists indeed when Tommies on the way would look at us with a
+tolerant smile.
+
+These were wonderfully interesting days to me. Late the next afternoon
+I had the good fortune to be a spectator of the greatest fight in the
+air I have ever seen. Thrilling fights are often witnessed from the
+ground, but more of them take place at heights so misty that ground
+observers know nothing of them, unless one or more of the combatants
+should come tumbling down in a crash. More than often fights in the air
+would go unobserved if it were not for the “Archie” shells breaking in
+the sky. These shells play about friend and foe alike, but when you are
+really intent upon an air duel the “Archies” make no impression upon
+you whatever.
+
+It was my privilege this day to see the spectacular fight from my
+machine. I had been idling along in the afternoon breeze, flying all
+alone, when I saw in the distance a great number of machines, whirling,
+spinning, and rolling in a great aerial mêlée. I made toward them as
+fast as I could go, and as I approached watched the fight carefully.
+It was very hard to tell for a time which machines were ours and which
+were the Huns’. Coming nearer it was easier, for then the Huns could be
+distinguished by the brilliant colouring of many of their machines.
+
+Hunting the Huns had taken on a new interest at this time because
+suddenly their machines had appeared painted in the most grotesque
+fashion. It was as if they had suddenly got an idea from the old
+Chinese custom of painting and adorning warriors so as to frighten
+the enemy. We learned afterward that it was just a case of the spring
+fancies of the German airmen running riot with livid colour-effects. We
+wanted to paint our machines, too, but our budding notions were frowned
+upon by the higher officers of the Corps. But every day our pilots
+were bringing home fresh stories of the fantastic German creations
+they had encountered in the skies. Some of them were real harlequins
+of the air, outrivalling the gayest feathered birds that had winged
+their way north with the spring. The scarlet machines of Baron von
+Richtofen’s crack squadron, sometimes called the “circus,” heralded
+the new order of things. Then it was noticed that some of the enemy
+craft were painted with great rings about their bodies. Later, nothing
+was too gaudy for the Huns. There were machines with green planes and
+yellow noses; silver planes with gold noses; khaki-coloured bodies with
+greenish grey planes; red bodies with green wings; light blue bodies
+and red wings; every combination the Teutonic brain could conjure up.
+One of the most fantastic we had met had a scarlet body, a brown tail,
+reddish brown planes, the enemy markings being white crosses on a
+bright green background. Some people thought the Germans had taken on
+these strange hues as a bit of spring camouflage; but they were just as
+visible or even more so in the startling colours they wore, and we put
+it down simply to the individual fancies of the enemy pilots.
+
+The battle seemed to be at about evens, when suddenly I saw a German
+machine, brightly coloured, fall out of the mêlée, turning over and
+over like a dead leaf falling from a tree late in autumn. I watched it
+closely for what seemed an awful length of time, but finally it crashed
+a complete wreck. Turning my eyes to the fight again, I saw one of our
+own machines fall out of control. Half-way between the scrimmage and
+the ground I thought it was coming into control again, but it turned
+into another dive and crashed near the fallen Hun. A moment later a
+second German machine came tumbling out of the fight. Eaten up with
+anxiety to get into the fight myself, I could not help having a feeling
+akin to awe as I watched the thrilling struggle. A mass of about twelve
+machines was moving around and around in a perfect whirlwind, and as I
+approached I could see our smoking bullets and the flaming missiles of
+the Huns darting in all directions.
+
+Just as I reached the scene, the fight, unfortunately for me, broke up,
+and my participation in it was limited to a short chase and a few shots
+after the fleeing Germans.
+
+Balloon attacks now came into fashion again, and for a short time we
+were told to attack them every day. In my case most of these attacks
+were unsuccessful. One day I crossed after a balloon only 2,000 feet
+up. Although I flew as fast as I could to reach the “sausage,” it had
+been hauled down before I got to it. Despite this, I flew low and
+attacked the gasbag, but with no apparent results. The balloon still
+sat there peacefully on the ground. Some enemy machines were in the
+distance attacking one of the men of my squadron who was after another
+“sausage,” and I flew to his assistance and managed to frighten them
+off. I then returned to the balloon, had another go at it--but again no
+result. It was discouraging work.
+
+That day, out of three of us who crossed to attack the balloons, one
+man was lost. His experience was rather a bitter one, but he fought
+death under such a heavy handicap and with such bravery that his
+story is worthy of relation as one of the traditions of the Royal
+Flying Service. It was his first attack on the balloons, and he crossed
+the lines with me. We separated when about half a mile over. When he
+dived after his balloons, two Hun machines got on his tail, and with
+their first burst of fire managed to hit both of his legs, breaking
+one. A second afterwards a shot went through his petrol tank, and the
+inflammable liquid poured over his helpless legs. But, wounded as he
+was, he fought back at the Germans and managed to get back over our
+lines. The two Germans, realizing he was badly hit, kept after him, and
+with another burst of fire shot away all his controls and at the same
+time set fire to the machine. It dived to the earth a flaming torch,
+and crashed. Some brave Tommies who were near rushed frantically into
+the blazing wreckage, and pulled the unfortunate pilot out. He was
+taken to a hospital, where we found him, badly burned, one leg and one
+arm broken, and several bullet wounds in his body.
+
+For two weeks he improved steadily, and we all had high hopes of his
+recovery. Then the doctors found it necessary to amputate his broken
+leg, and two days later the poor lad died. He had been in France but a
+few weeks.
+
+“I came half-way round the world from Australia to fight the Hun,” he
+told one of our men in hospital. “I served through the campaign at
+Gallipoli as a Tommy, and at last I got where I longed to be--in the
+Flying Corps. It seems hard to have it end like this so soon.”
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+There was joy in flying these later day in April when a tardy spring
+at last was beginning to assert itself. The hardness of the winter
+was passing and the earth at times was glorious to see. I remember
+one afternoon in particular when the whole world seemed beautiful. We
+were doing a patrol at two miles up about six o’clock. Underneath us a
+great battle was raging, and we could see it all in crisp clearness,
+several lines of white smoke telling just where our barrage shells were
+bursting. The ground all about the trenches and the battle-area was
+dark brown, where it had been churned up by the never-ceasing fire of
+the opposing artillery. On either side of the battle-zone could be seen
+the fields, the setting sun shining on them with the softest of tinted
+lights. Still farther back--on both sides--was the cultivated land. The
+little farms stood out in varying geometric designs, with different
+colours of soil and shades of green, according to what had been sown in
+them and the state of the coming crops. There was no mist at all, and
+one could see for miles and miles.
+
+From Arras I could see the Channel, and it resembled more a river of
+liquid gold than a sea. Across the Channel it was possible to make
+out England and the Isle of Wight. The chalk cliffs of Dover formed a
+white frame for one side of the splendid picture. Toward Germany one
+could see a tremendous wooded country, a stretch of watered lowlands
+beyond the trees, and the rest indistinct. To the south I could make
+out a bit of the River Seine, while to the north lay the Belgian coast.
+The marvellous beauty of it all made the war seem impossible. We flew
+peacefully along for miles in the full enjoyment of it all, and I shall
+always be glad we did not have a fight that evening. It would have
+brought me back to stern reality with too sudden a jerk.
+
+A few days later I was away from the beauties in life and after the
+grossly hideous balloons again. Success rewarded one of my earnest
+efforts. It happened one morning when we had been patrolling the air
+just above the trenches. It was a very dull morning, the clouds being
+under 3,000 feet. Well across the lines I could make out the portly
+form of a German balloon sitting just under them. The sight of the
+“sausage” filled me with one of those hot bursts of rage I had so often
+in these days against everything German in the world. After the finish
+of the patrol, I had my machine filled up with petrol, and, with a good
+supply of special ammunition, started out on a voluntary expedition to
+bring down that fat and self-satisfied balloon. Upon nearing the lines
+I flew up into the clouds, having taken a careful compass bearing in
+the exact direction of my intended victim. Flying slowly at a rate of
+sixty miles an hour, I crept steadily forward, taking reckonings now
+and then from the compass and my other flying-instruments. I figured
+the balloon was six miles over the lines, and as I had climbed into
+the clouds about one mile behind our own lines, I reckoned that seven
+minutes should let me down just where I wanted to be. I popped out of
+the clouds with every nerve tense, expecting to find the sausage just
+beneath me. Instead, I found nothing, not even a familiar landmark. I
+felt pretty sick at heart when I realized I had lost myself. My compass
+must have been slightly out of bearing, or I had flown very badly.
+At the moment I had no idea where I was. I flew in a small circle,
+and then spied another balloon quite near me. The balloon had seen me
+first, the “S.O.S.” had gone out, and it was being hauled down with
+miraculous swiftness. I dived for the descending German as hard as I
+could go, and managed to get within 50 yards while it was still 800
+feet up. Opening fire, I skimmed just over the top of the balloon,
+then turned to attack again, when, to my great joy, I saw the bag was
+smoking. I had seen no one leap from the observer’s basket hanging
+underneath, so I fired a short burst into it just to liven up anybody
+who happened to be sitting there. The sausage was then smoking heavily,
+so I flew south in the hope of finding some landmark that would tell me
+the way home.
+
+Suddenly another balloon loomed before me, and at the same time I
+recognized by the ground that it was the “sausage” I had first set out
+to attack. I fired the remainder of my ammunition at it at long range,
+but had no effect so far as I could see. I then came down to 15 feet of
+the ground and flew along a river-bank that I knew would lead me home.
+I had found this low flying over enemy-land quite exhilarating, and
+rather liked the sights I used to see.
+
+During the next week I had three or four very unsatisfactory combats.
+My work consisted mostly of sitting patiently over the lines, waiting
+for an enemy to appear. Then, after it had put in an appearance, I
+would carefully watch for an opportunity and attack, only to have the
+Hun escape. I was mostly concerned with my old friends the enemy
+two-seaters, especially the ones that would fly at low altitudes doing
+artillery observation work. I would try to get behind a cloud, or
+in one, and surprise them as they went by. I managed to pounce upon
+several machines from ambush, but had no luck at all in the succeeding
+combats. On such occasions I would return much disgusted to the
+aerodrome and put in more time at the target.
+
+I began to feel that my list of victims was not climbing as steadily
+as I would have liked. Captain Ball was back from a winter rest in
+England and was adding constantly to his already big score. I felt I
+had to keep going if I was to be second to him. So I was over the enemy
+lines from six to seven hours every day, praying for some easy victims
+to appear. I had had some pretty hard fighting. Now I wanted to shoot
+a “rabbit” or two. Several times while sitting over the lines I was
+caught badly by anti-aircraft fire, and had to do a lot of dodging and
+turning to avoid being badly hit by the singing shrapnel shells. As it
+was, I frequently returned with scars, where bits of shell had pierced
+my planes and fuselage.
+
+One day I saw a two-seater flying calmly along about three miles high.
+I started to climb up under him, and it seemed to me I was hours on the
+way, for he had seen me and was climbing as well. Eventually I reached
+his level, but we were then nearly four miles from the earth. The air
+was so thin I found it difficult to get my breath. It was coming in
+quick gasps and my heart was racing like mad. It is very difficult to
+fly a single-seater at such altitudes, much more to fight in one. The
+air is so rare that the small machines, with their minimum of plane
+surface, have very little to rest upon. The propeller will not “bite”
+into the thin atmosphere with very much of a pull. But despite all
+this, I decided to have a go at the big German two-seater, and we did
+a series of lazy manœuvres. I realized I was unable to put much energy
+into the fighting, and the only shot I got at the Hun I missed! At the
+height we had met, the Hun machine was faster than mine, so in a few
+minutes he broke off the combat and escaped.
+
+I spent half an hour under another enemy machine, trying to stalk him,
+but he finally got away. During the time I was “hiding” under the
+two-seater I was quite happy in the belief that he could not bring a
+gun to bear on me. But when I landed I found several bullet-holes in
+the machine close to my body. After that I kept a sharper look-out on
+the fellows upstairs.
+
+One day, after climbing slowly to 17,000 feet and still finding no
+victims, I flew fifteen miles inside the German lines, hoping to catch
+some unwary enemy aloft. At last, about half a mile beneath me, I saw
+a lone scout. I carefully manœuvred to get between him and the sun,
+for once there I knew he could not see me and I would have all the
+advantage of a surprise attack. I was within 20 yards, and going about
+130 miles an hour, when I opened fire. Not more than ten shots had sped
+from my gun when the Hun went spinning down in a nose-dive, seemingly
+out of control. I dived after him, firing steadily, and we had dropped
+something like 3,000 feet when the enemy machine burst into flames.
+
+During my dive I had seen a black speck in the distance which looked as
+if it might be a Hun. So I climbed again and made in the direction of
+the speck, hoping it would turn out to be an enemy machine. It did, and
+I succeeded in getting in another surprise attack, but my shots hit no
+vital spot and the German slid away in safety.
+
+A few minutes later I saw a third Hun, and again I manœuvred for the
+advantage of the sun position. But the pilot either saw me before I got
+into the blinding rays, or else he saw the other machine diving away
+and thought something was wrong, for he, too, dived steeply before I
+could get within effective range.
+
+However, I was very well pleased with the day’s work, for I had sent my
+second machine down in flames. Such an incident has never failed to put
+me in a good humour. It is so certain and such a satisfactory way of
+destroying Huns.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+
+April 30th was a red-letter day for me. I celebrated it by having a
+record number of fights in a given space of time. In one hour and
+forty-five minutes I had nine separate scraps. This was during the
+morning. Before we had tea that afternoon, the Major and I had a
+set-to with four scarlet German scouts that was the most hair-raising
+encounter I have ever been mixed up in.
+
+This very pleasant fighting-day started when I led my patrol over the
+lines, and dived so steeply after an enemy machine which suddenly
+appeared beneath me that I nearly turned over. The remainder of the
+patrol lost me completely. I kept putting the nose of my Nieuport down
+until I got beyond the vertical point. I fell forward in my seat and
+struck my head against the little wind-screen. I was going down so fast
+I upset my aim completely, and allowed the Hun, by a quick manœuvre,
+to escape me altogether. The patrol had disappeared, so I climbed up as
+fast as I could to have a look around.
+
+Five minutes later I saw two huge Huns directly over our lines. They
+were easily mammoths of the air. I wanted to have a look at the
+strangers, so started in their direction, keeping my own level, which
+was a little beneath the big Germans. They grew rapidly in size as I
+approached, and I took them to be some new type of two-seater. From
+later experiences and diagrams I have seen, I think now they must have
+been the three-seater Gothas--like the machines that later flew over
+London so often, many of them coming to grief as the penalty of their
+daring.
+
+This was probably the first appearance of the Gothas over our lines. A
+few days later I had another glimpse of two of them in the distance;
+but that was the last I saw of the monstrous Germans. This day they
+seemed rather keen for a fight, and one of them came down in a slow
+spiral to get at me. I, at the same time, was trying to stay in the
+“blind spot” just beneath him, and hoped eventually to get a steady
+shot at some vital point. We must have made a ludicrous picture, little
+me under the huge Hun. I felt like a mosquito chasing a wasp, but was
+willing to take a chance.
+
+While manœuvring with the first monster, the second one dived at me
+from a slight angle, and seemed to open fire with a whole battery of
+machine guns. I dived to gain a little more speed, then pulled my nose
+straight up into the air and opened fire. When I had got off about
+fifteen rounds, the gun jammed, and I had to dive quickly away to see
+what was wrong. I found I could do nothing with it in the air; but my
+aerodrome was only a few miles away, so I dived down to it, corrected
+the jam, and was away again in a few minutes in search of more
+excitement.
+
+I was very peevish with myself for having missed a chance to bring down
+one of the big new German machines, and was in a real fighting temper
+as I recrossed the lines. I had not gone far on my way when I saw three
+of the enemy about two miles away, doing artillery work. I dived for
+the nearest one and opened fire. Then I had the somewhat stirring
+sensation of seeing flaming bullets coming from all three of the Huns
+at once in my direction. The odds were three to one against me, and
+each enemy machine had two guns to my one, but suddenly they quit
+firing, turned, and fled away. I went after them, but quickly saw the
+game they were attempting to play. They were trying to lead me directly
+under five scarlet Albatross scouts.
+
+These scarlet machines, as I have explained before, all belonged to
+von Richtofen’s squadron. I saw them just in time to turn away. I drew
+off about a mile, then easily outclimbed my brilliant red rivals.
+Having gained the advantage of position, I decided to have a go at the
+crack German flyers. I dived toward them with my gun rattling, but
+just before reaching their level I pulled the machine up and “zoomed”
+straight up in the air, ascending for a short distance with the speed
+of a rocket. Then I would turn and dive and open fire again, repeating
+the performance several times. The Huns evidently had expected me
+to dive right through them, but my tactics took them by surprise and
+they began to show nervousness. After the third “zoom” and dive, the
+formation broke up and scattered.
+
+Then I turned around to look for the treacherous two-seaters who had
+sought to lead me into a veritable death-trap. I had searched several
+minutes before I picked them out of the sky, and I can still remember
+the thrill of joy with which I hailed them. It had seemed such a rotten
+trick, when they were three to one, not even to show fight, but simply
+try to trick me. I felt I must have vengeance, and went after them with
+the firm conviction that this time something was going to happen. I got
+into position where they would pass in front of me, and dived at the
+second Hun. His observer was firing at me, and pretty soon the other
+two Huns chimed in. Add to this staccato chorus the healthy rattle of
+my own gun, and you may gain some idea of the din we were making in
+mid-air. My first twenty shots silenced the observer in the machine
+I was attacking, and as I passed over it, it suddenly slipped to one
+side, then stood on its nose, and fell. I did not have time to watch
+this machine down, but turned to attack the third Hun in the line. He
+had seen his comrade’s fate, however, and, losing heart, had begun
+to dive away. I poured fifty rounds after him, then let him go. The
+leading machine had now disappeared, so I was left free to dive down
+and see what had happened to the Hun who had fallen out of the fight.
+He crashed in the most satisfactory manner. I turned and flew south,
+feeling very much better.
+
+But I was not idle long. The five scarlet scouts had gotten together
+again and were approaching our lines farther south with the evident
+intention of attacking isolated British artillery machines. This
+particular squadron had made a habit of sneaking across our lines
+during the spring, and its leader had become known among our infantry
+as the “Little Red Devil,” and one still hears him spoken of by the
+people who were in the trenches at that time. We had often tried
+to catch him on one of these expeditions, but he and his scarlet
+followers always chose a moment when our fighting patrols were engaged
+on another sector of the front. Then, dashing across the lines, the red
+Albatrosses would shoot down one of our older machines which we were
+employing then on observation work.
+
+This morning I had an extra feeling of bitterness toward the Richtofens
+for their mean attempt to trick, and I went after them again with a
+feeling of exalted strength. I was above them as before, and, after
+one dive, they turned away east and gave up their idea of setting upon
+our artillery workers. I considered it unwise to go down and actually
+mix in the middle of them, as they were all good men. So I contented
+myself with harassing them from above, as I had done in the previous
+fight with the quintet that morning. They were apparently much annoyed
+at this, and kept steadily on their way east. I followed for quite a
+distance, and then sat over them as one by one they all went down and
+landed.
+
+On the way home I had a skirmish with two German artillery machines,
+but we did not get within very close range of each other and nothing
+happened. They were frightened a bit, none the less, and sped away.
+In a little while, however, they plucked up courage and came back to
+resume their work of spotting for the German guns. This time I tried
+going at them from the front, and it proved exciting, to say the
+least. I approached the leading Hun of the pair head on, opening fire
+when about 200 yards away. He also opened fire about the same time.
+We drew nearer and nearer together, both firing as fast and direct as
+we could. I could see the Hun bullets going about 3 feet to one side
+of me, passing between my upper and lower planes. My own were doing
+better work, and several times it seemed certain that some of them were
+hitting the front of the enemy machine. On we came, each doing over
+a hundred miles an hour, which would have meant a colliding impact
+of more than two hundred miles an hour. With big engines in front of
+us for protection, we were taking the risks of each other’s bullets.
+Thirty yards away we were both holding to our course, and then, much
+to my relief, be it confessed, the Hun dived, and I thought I had hit
+him. I turned quickly, but in doing so lost sight of him completely.
+Then a second later I saw him, some distance away, going down in a
+slight glide, evidently quite under control, but I think badly hit. The
+other machine followed him down and neither of them returned. I had
+very little ammunition left, but stayed on the lines another fifteen
+minutes hoping for one more fight.
+
+It came when I sighted one of my favourites--an enemy two-seater--at
+work. I got directly above him, then dived vertically, reserving my
+fire until I was very close. The enemy observer had his gun trained up
+at me, and the bullets were streaming past as I came down. I missed him
+on my dive, so shot by his tail, then “zoomed” up underneath and opened
+fire from the “blind spot” there.
+
+I don’t know what was the matter with my shooting this morning, for,
+with the exception of the machine I hit from the side, it seemed to
+have become a habit with my enemies to dive away from me and escape.
+I did not seem to be able to knock them out of control. This one, like
+the others, dived steeply, and though I followed and fired all of my
+remaining bullets after him, he continued in his long straight dive and
+landed safely in the corner of a field near the city of Lens. Two or
+three “Archie” batteries took “bites” at me as I crossed the lines for
+luncheon.
+
+Then came my thrilling adventure of the afternoon. The many experiences
+of the morning had put me in good humour for fighting, and immediately
+the midday meal was finished, I was up in the air again, with my
+squadron commander, to see if there were any Huns about looking for a
+bit of trouble. We patrolled along the lines for twenty minutes, but
+saw nothing in that time. Then, as I was leading, I headed further
+into enemy territory, and presently, to the south of us, we saw five
+Albatross scouts. We went after them, but before we had come within
+firing distance, we discovered four red Albatrosses just to our right.
+This latter quartette, I believe, was made up of Baron von Richtofen
+and three of his best men.
+
+However, although we knew who they were, we had been searching for
+a fight, and were feeling rather bored with doing nothing, so after
+the four we went. The Major reached them first and opened fire on the
+rear machine from behind. Immediately the leader of the scouts did a
+lightning turn and came back at the Major, firing at him and passing
+within two or three feet of his machine. In my turn I opened fire on
+the Baron, and in another half-moment found myself in the midst of what
+seemed to be a stampede of bloodthirsty animals. Everywhere I turned
+smoking bullets were jumping at me, and although I got in two or three
+good bursts at the Baron’s “red devil,” I was rather bewildered for two
+or three minutes, as I could not see what was happening to the Major
+and was not at all certain as to what was going to happen to me.
+
+It was a decided difference from the fighting of the morning. The
+Germans seemed to be out to avenge their losses, and certainly were in
+fighting trim. Around we went in cyclonic circles for several minutes,
+here a flash of the Hun machines, then a flash of silver as my squadron
+commander would whizz by. All the time I would be in the same mix-up
+myself, every now and then finding a red machine in front of me and
+getting in a round or two of quick shots. I was glad the Germans were
+scarlet and we were silver. There was no need to hesitate about firing
+when the right colour flitted by your nose. It was a lightning fight,
+and I have never been in anything just like it. Firing one moment,
+you would have to concentrate all your mind and muscle the next in
+doing a quick turn to avoid a collision. Once my gun jammed, and while
+manœuvring to the utmost of my ability to escape the direct fire of one
+of the ravenous Germans, I had to “fuss” with the weapon until I got
+it right again. I had just got going again when von Richtofen flashed
+by me and I let him have a short burst. As I did so, I saw up above me
+four more machines coming down to join in the fight. Being far inside
+the German lines, I at once decided they were additional Huns, so I
+“zoomed” up out of the fight to be free for a moment and have a look
+around. The moment I did this I saw the approaching machines were
+tri-planes, belonging to one of our naval squadrons, and they were
+coming for all they were worth to help us against the Albatrosses. The
+latter, however, had had enough of the fight by now, and at the moment
+I “zoomed” they dived and flew away toward the earth. I did not know
+this until I looked down to where the fight should still have been in
+progress. There was nothing to be seen. Everybody had disappeared,
+including the Major. It was a sad moment for me, for I felt I had
+surely lost him this time. After circling over the spot for five
+minutes or more and exchanging signals with the tri-planes, I started
+for home with a heavy heart.
+
+On the way I saw another machine approaching me, and got into fighting
+position in the event it should prove hostile. As we drew nearer
+together I recognized it as another Nieuport, and then, to my great
+joy, I realized it was the Major. He had flown west at top speed as
+soon as he saw the fight was over and I was not to be seen. He was
+afraid I had followed the Huns down to the ground in my excitement, and
+was very anxious as to what had happened to me. Upon recognizing each
+other we waved our hands in the air, then came close enough together to
+exchange broad grins. We flew side by side to the aerodrome and landed.
+I found my machine had been very badly shot about, one group of seven
+bullets having passed within an inch of me in one place. It had been a
+close shave, but a wonderful, soul-stirring fight.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+
+The first few days in May we spent escorting machines taking
+photographs. It was rather exciting work, for several times we went
+very long distances into Hunland and stayed over there for hours. It
+was also very nerve-racking work, as you listen constantly for the
+least break in the smooth running of your motor, knowing that if it
+fails you are too far from home ever to get there by gliding. At such
+times my thoughts always reverted to the ignominy one would feel in
+helplessly landing among the Germans and saying “Kamerad!” Far better
+to die in a fight, or even yield up the ghost to a despised “Archie,”
+than tamely submit to being taken prisoner. Then, too, all the time you
+are loafing about taking snapshots from the air, the anti-aircraft fire
+gets very fierce.
+
+On one occasion we went over to photograph an aerodrome in the
+vicinity of Douai, a city you can see from the top of Vimy Ridge on any
+clear day. We had with us in all about twenty machines, and were a very
+formidable party indeed. As luck would have it, we spied two Germans.
+With two or three other of our fighting pilots, I quickly dodged to
+one side to try to engage the Huns before they could see the whole
+crowd of us and be frightened away. But, no luck! They made off the
+minute we turned our noses in their direction. We proceeded over Douai,
+and in turning around once or twice, the machine actually taking the
+photographs was lost. I mean by lost that it got mixed up with the rest
+of us and it was practically impossible in that number of machines to
+pick it out again. The result was we went around and around in circles
+for half an hour trying to find out where it had gone. It was like
+an old-fashioned game of “Button, button, who’s got the button?” and
+was so amusing I had to laugh. Around and around we went. The strain
+began to get on the nerves, of course, as every minute seemed to be an
+hour, and we all felt we should be getting away from there as soon as
+possible. But when you are in great danger, the smallest things make a
+keen appeal to your sense of humour, and the idea of the whole twenty
+of us playing such a foolish game in such a dangerous spot could not
+help having its funny side. Several of the others, on landing, told me
+they had felt the same way about it, and had had many good laughs.
+
+Needless to say, the anti-aircraft guns under us were having the time
+of their unprincipled lives. They never had had such a huge bunch of
+good targets to shoot at, so they blazed into the midst of us with
+all the “hate” they had. But we had the luck, and hardly a machine
+was touched. We were flying at 13,000 feet, and that seemed lucky in
+itself. Many shells broke with loud bangs just under us and over us,
+but none at 13,000 feet. We were annoyed but not worried.
+
+Finally, somebody got fed up with all this running around in aerial
+circles, and started toward home. We had all been waiting for something
+like that to happen, and every one of us streaked off in the leader’s
+wake. We got back safely enough, but, to add to the fiasco of the
+expedition, it turned out that the man who was taking the photographs
+made some awful error and snapped the wrong places altogether. For a
+period of fully half an hour he had to listen patiently and quietly
+while the rest of us tried to think up a punishment to fit the crime.
+Later that afternoon we had to eat all our words, for while we were
+lunching and discussing the morning’s work, the photographer pilot,
+all alone and without further orders, had quietly gone over the lines,
+taken the proper pictures, and returned safely with them. It was a
+brave thing to do, and we admired him for it.
+
+The next day was a very successful one for me. I had several fights,
+and for one was later awarded the “Distinguished Service Order”--my
+second decoration. We had been taking photographs again, with another
+large escort, as on the day before, and were returning homeward when
+an enemy single-seater approached slightly below us. I went down and
+attacked him, and we fought for quite a while, exchanging shots now
+and then, with no result other than the escape of the enemy. The other
+machines had continued on their way and were nowhere to be seen when
+I climbed away from my unsuccessful duel. Being left alone, and of no
+further use to the photographers, I felt I might as well look around a
+bit. My search for enemy machines soon was rewarded. I came upon five
+of them doing artillery observation work. They were all two-seaters,
+and consequently my legitimate prey. The Huns were nicely arranged
+in two parties, one of two and the other of three. I decided that as
+the party of three was nearer, I would tackle it first. Remembering
+my former experience in diving into three enemy artillery machines, I
+was wary of a trap, but went after the bunch with a firm determination
+I would not make a “hash” of it. The trio made away as I approached.
+Furious at the thought that they should escape scot-free, I forgot
+my caution and went after them pell-mell. I didn’t care at the time
+whether there were any hostile fighting machines above me or not. I
+wanted to teach the cowardly two-seaters a justly deserved lesson.
+Catching up to within 200 yards of the rear one, I saw that all three
+were firing at me from their back guns. I was so much faster than the
+Huns I could zigzag on my course--wondering as I did so if I resembled
+an ocean greyhound dodging a submarine! Finally, I closed to within 20
+yards of the fleeing Germans and let go at them. The rear machine was
+my easiest target. Soon I saw my bullets going into the observer’s body
+and I feel sure some of them must have passed on from him to the pilot
+who was seated directly in front. The observer’s face was white as a
+sheet, and, out of pure terror, I think, he had ceased to fire at me.
+The pilot now was gazing back over his shoulder and was too frightened
+to manœuvre his machine. He had turned into a sort of human rabbit, and
+was concerned only with running for his life. Fifteen rounds from my
+gun sufficed for that machine. Down it tumbled, a stricken and dying
+thing.
+
+As the other two machines were some distance off, I did a circle to
+see the falling Hun crash. When I did this, the other two suddenly
+returned underneath me and opened fire from a spot where I could not
+see them, one coming within a hundred yards. Almost at the same moment
+that they attacked, four enemy scouts came diving out of the clouds,
+two of them firing as they dived at me. I turned on the nearer of the
+two-seaters and, firing forty rounds at him from the side, managed
+to shoot him down. I then went straight at the four scouts, opening
+fire on one that was coming straight head-on. He swerved slightly at
+the last, and flashed by me. I ducked away into a cloud to consider
+the situation for a moment, but in the mist, in my excitement, I lost
+control of my machine and fell in a spinning nose-dive for quite a
+distance. When I flattened out at last, the enemy scouts had flown
+away, but there beneath me, still slowly spinning to his fate, was
+my second two-seater. Three of the missing scouts now appeared some
+distance above me. I decided it was not a very healthy spot, and made
+away for home, perfectly content with having added two more Hun scalps
+to my score.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+                                            Canadian Official Photograph
+
+“Archie” at work.]
+
+It was great flying-weather, and next day I had four fights in
+forty-five minutes. I could have had more, but had to return for want
+of fuel and ammunition. First of all, I spotted two of my favourite
+two-seaters doing their daily observations, some three miles on the
+German side of the lines. I was very careful now about the way I
+approached these people, and went at it in a more or less scientific
+manner. Climbing to just under the top of a cloud, where I was more
+or less invisible, I watched them carefully for five whole minutes as
+they went back and forth on their beat, and I carefully figured out
+just where I could catch them when they were nearest our lines. I also
+kept a very close eye on some enemy fighting patrols lurking in the
+distance. Picking a moment when they were well away, I flew over some
+more sheltering clouds, then came down and dashed at the two Huns. I
+managed to get twenty rounds into the nearer one, and pretty good shots
+they were, too, but nothing seemed to happen. At least nothing happened
+to the Hun, but something went wrong with my engine, and fearing it
+would fail me altogether, I broke off the fight and made for home.
+
+Just after I made our lines, the engine began running perfectly,
+so I went back for my two-seaters. Only one of them remained. This
+convinced me that the other machine had been hit badly enough to make
+him descend. The one left behind was very wary, and I saw I could not
+get within two miles of him. So I gave him up as a bad job, and flew
+up and down the lines until I discovered another pair of two-seaters.
+These also proved to be shy and I chased them well back into their
+own country. It is discouraging work, and very aggravating, to chase
+machines that will not fight. For my part, I find that I get in a
+tremendous temper and am very apt to run unnecessary risks when I meet
+another enemy. It is a case of anything to relieve one’s feelings.
+
+The last twenty minutes of the three-quarters of an hour were spent
+first in stalking an enemy scout, that also escaped; then the two
+machines I had previously attacked in my second fight, some minutes
+before. But again I was unable to get within close range of them,
+although I finally flew above and got between them and their own
+aerodrome. I dashed at the two head-on, but finished my ammunition
+before I had done any damage.
+
+In the afternoon I had three more fights, the first one being very
+unsuccessful from my point of view, but certainly a very exciting
+affair. I was out with my own patrol, six machines strong, and we
+had not been on the lines very long before we met up with a lone Hun
+two-seater. From a distance he looked like one of the shy fellows I had
+been chasing most of the morning, and I led the patrol straight at him,
+quite confident in my own mind that he was going to be an easy victim.
+I was convinced of this when at first he appeared inclined to run
+away. I opened fire at him at 200 yards, whereupon a marvellous thing
+happened. The German pilot turned in a flash and came head-on into the
+six of us, opening fire with two guns. Much to our amazement, he flew
+right through the centre of our formation. The unexpected audacity of
+the Hun caught us entirely off our guard. It was a bad bit of work for
+us to let him go right through us, and we were all deeply disgusted.
+We turned on the fellow with all the fury there was in us, but he
+was quite ready for us. We seemed to be fighting very badly, and the
+honours were not coming our way. The fight lasted about three minutes,
+and during that time I, for one, was caught badly by the German. While
+trying to correct a stoppage in my gun, he turned on me and got in a
+very fierce burst of fire, some of the bullets passing close to my
+body. He also got one of the others a few seconds later trying to do
+the same thing, and then, to cap the climax, he turned away, broke off
+the combat, and escaped as free as a bird, with probably only a few
+bullet-holes in his machine. He must have been a very fine pilot and
+a very brave man, for he put up a wonderful fight, and I have not the
+slightest hesitation in saying he probably enjoyed it much more than we
+did.
+
+A little later I was flying around when I saw dead beneath me a
+green-and-black machine, with huge black crosses painted on it. It
+was one of the new type of enemy scouts, and, as I later discovered,
+had a very good man piloting it. I dived at him, but he did a great
+turn, climbing at the same time, and by a clever manœuvre managed to
+get directly behind me. I had a hard time getting rid of him, as he had
+me in a very awkward position, and every second for several minutes I
+expected that one of his bullets which were passing close by me would
+find its mark.
+
+But even in a perilous time like this my sense of humour would out, and
+I thought of a verse from “The Lobster Quadrille”:
+
+      “Won’t you walk a little faster?”
+        Said a whiting to a snail;
+      “There’s a porpoise close behind me,
+        And he’s treading on my tail!”
+
+I did not like that Hun porpoise at all, and he was treading on my tail
+like the very shadow of Death itself. However, he made a slight mistake
+on one of our turns, and a few seconds later I got into a position
+where the fight began anew on rather different terms. For several
+minutes we flew around in a circle, both getting in occasional bursts
+of fire. Out of the corner of my eye I saw some scarlet German machines
+approaching, so I snatched at an opportunity that suddenly appeared and
+escaped.
+
+A few minutes later, on returning to that spot, I saw that the Hun
+scouts had found another one of our machines by itself, and were
+all attacking it. So I came down from above and created a momentary
+diversion by opening fire with my last ten rounds, and thus gave the
+British machine a chance to escape. Our pilot slid speedily out of the
+fray.
+
+We were up late that night attending a show given for the squadron by a
+travelling troupe of concert people from the Army Service Corps. It was
+past midnight when I got to bed, and I was up again at four, having an
+early-morning job on hand. I will never forget the orderly who used to
+wake me in those days. He positively enjoyed it.
+
+After a cup of hot tea and a biscuit, four of us left the ground
+shortly after five. The sun in the early mornings, shining in such
+direct rays from the east, makes it practically impossible to see
+in that direction, so that these dawn adventures were not much of a
+pleasure. It meant that danger from surprise was very great, for the
+Huns, coming from the east with the sun at their back, could see us
+when we couldn’t see them. At any rate, one doesn’t feel one’s best at
+dawn, especially when one has had only four hours’ sleep. This was the
+case on this bright May morning, and to make matters worse there was
+quite a ground mist. The sun, reflecting on this, made seeing in any
+direction very difficult.
+
+We had been doing a patrol up and down the line for an hour and a
+quarter, at a very high altitude where it was cruelly cold, so I
+decided to lead the patrol down lower. There did not seem to be an
+enemy in the air, and for a moment I think my vigilance was relaxed.
+I had begun to dream a bit, when suddenly a burst of machine-gun fire
+awakened me to the fact that there was a war on. Not even taking time
+to look from whence it all came, I pulled my machine up and turned
+it like lightning, looking over my shoulder during the whirl. This
+instinctive manœuvre saved my life. An enemy machine, painted a
+beautiful silver, was coming vertically down at me firing. He just
+missed me with his bullets, and, “zooming” up again, he made a second
+dive. This time I pulled my machine back, and with my nose to the sky,
+I fired at the Hun as he came down. I then flew sidewise and evaded
+him that way. It had been a clear case of surprise so far as I was
+concerned, and I had a very narrow squeak from disaster.
+
+Altogether, there were five Huns in the attacking force, against the
+four of us. We were flying in diamond formation, and the pilot bringing
+up our rear had seen the Huns just before the attack, but not in time
+to warn us. Counting the five enemy pilots, he wondered which one
+of us was going to be attacked by two Huns instead of one? The next
+moment he saw the Germans split up as they dived at us, and he was the
+unfortunate one to draw the two. It was a lucky thing for the rest of
+us, taken wholly by surprise, that we each had but a single machine to
+deal with. Our rear-guard was better prepared, and although we all had
+our troubles, we managed to clear away without injury.
+
+Next day we had rather a dramatic touch. After the morning’s work we
+were sitting at luncheon and the second course had just been served,
+when a telephone message came through that two enemy machines were
+at work on the lines. They were directing artillery fire of several
+hostile batteries on some of our important points. The request came
+through from the front line to send somebody out at once and drive the
+undesirables away. Talk about Wellington at the battle of Waterloo!
+This had that beaten in every way. We felt like a lot of firemen, and
+in a very few minutes after we got the message another pilot and I were
+out over the trenches. Five minutes later we were engaged in deadly
+combat with the two enemy machines. They had seen us as we approached.
+We were hungry and were anxious to get back to our muttons. So there
+was no shilly-shallying about the fight--it was a case of going in
+and finishing it in the shortest possible order. So the two of us
+waded in side by side, opening fire on the rear enemy. With our first
+burst of fire, it dived on its nose, did a couple of turns as it fell,
+and finally crashed into a field beside the river. We then turned our
+attention to Hun No. 2, but he was a mile away by this time and winging
+it for home as fast as ever he could. We were willing to waste ten
+minutes more away from the festive board to have a go at him, but he
+showed no sign of returning, and we streaked home to our interrupted
+meal. It had all been very short and sweet, and most successful.
+
+I had now come to the conclusion that to be successful in fighting in
+the air, two things were required above all others. One was accuracy in
+shooting, and the second was to use one’s head and take no unnecessary
+risks. Consequently my plans from about this time forward were to
+take a minimum of risks, and whenever things looked at all doubtful
+or bad, immediately to make my escape and wait patiently for another
+opportunity. The patience part in carrying out this campaign was
+the hardest, but I managed to control myself, and found it much more
+effective than constantly blundering into danger like a bull in a
+china-shop.
+
+For instance, one day I saw a single enemy scout flying at a tremendous
+altitude. I climbed up carefully some distance from him, and got
+between him and the sun; then, waiting until he was heading in exactly
+the opposite direction, I came down with tremendous speed and managed
+to slip underneath him without even being seen. I could make out each
+mark on the bottom of his machine as I crept closer and closer. My gun
+was all ready, but I withheld its fire until I came to the range I
+wanted--inside of 20 yards. It was rather delicate work flying so close
+under the swift Hun, but he had no idea that I was in existence, much
+less sitting right below him. I carefully picked out the exact spot
+where I knew the pilot was sitting, took careful aim, and fired. Twenty
+tracer bullets went into that spot. The machine immediately lurched to
+one side and fell.
+
+I had quickly to skid my machine to one side to avoid being hit by the
+falling Hun. After he had passed me a little way, I saw him smoking.
+Then he burst into flames. That pilot never knew what happened to him.
+Death came to him from nowhere.
+
+Shortly after this, learning by accident that a patrol from another
+squadron was going across to take photographs, I offered to accompany
+them as escort, and was accepted. The anti-aircraft fire that day was
+really terrible. I flew well above the photographers and was more
+or less out of reach of the “Archies,” but the other machines were
+getting it hammer and tongs. All got through the barrage, however, and
+we proceeded to get our pictures. Then we headed straight for home.
+About this time I noticed several of the “little red devils” flying
+about underneath us, so I watched them carefully, suspecting they were
+climbing to attack some of the photography machines. I also began to
+climb so as to be practically out of sight in the blue sky, and I
+managed to fool them altogether. Two of the devils soon came at one
+of our machines, and at the same time I dived into them. One of the
+pair turned away, but I managed to get in a good shot at the second
+one at 30 yards. He immediately flew out of control, and I watched him
+falling for what seemed to be a long time. I was now down to the level
+of the photographers and remained with them for the rest of the trip.
+The “Archies” gave us another hot greeting as we recrossed the lines. I
+kept dodging about as quickly as I could, for the fire was too close to
+be pleasant. Shells were bursting everywhere. There was no use turning
+to the right, for you would stick your nose into two or three exploding
+shells in that direction. And there was no use turning to the left, for
+three or four would be bursting there. They seemed to fill every nook
+and corner of the air. I was greatly tempted to put my engine full out
+and leave the patrol to get home by itself, but I did not. I stuck with
+the heavier machines, dodging around them like a young sparrow among a
+lot of crows.
+
+The photographic machines were badly hit, and three of them had been
+so damaged they could not be used again. My own machine was hit in
+several places, and I never looked back upon that volunteer excursion
+as one of the pleasant experiences in my young life. This was the last
+fighting I had for two weeks, as the next day I went to England on two
+weeks’ leave.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+
+When I left for my leave to England, I was not very keen on going.
+The excitement of the chase had a tight hold on my heart-strings,
+and I felt that the only thing I wanted was to stay right at it and
+fight and fight and fight in the air. I don’t think I was ever happier
+in my life. It seemed that I had found the one thing I loved above
+all others. To me it was not a business or a profession, but just
+a wonderful game. To bring down a machine did not seem to me to be
+killing a man; it was more as if I was just destroying a mechanical
+target, with no human being in it. Once or twice the idea that a live
+man had been piloting the machine would occur and recur to me, and it
+would worry me a bit. My sleep would be spoiled perhaps for a night. I
+did not relish the idea even of killing Germans, yet, when in a combat
+in the air, it seemed more like any other kind of sport, and to shoot
+down a machine was very much the same as if one were shooting down clay
+pigeons. One had the great satisfaction of feeling that he had hit the
+target and brought it down; that one was victorious again.
+
+When I reached England, however, I found I was in a very nervous
+condition. I could not be still. After a week there, in which I enjoyed
+myself tremendously, I found I was getting quieter, and realized that
+my leave was probably doing me a world of good. My last week of leave I
+enjoyed without stint, every minute seeming better than the one before.
+To make it still more ideal, I did not have the usual dread of going
+back to France--I was looking forward to it. I realized that this short
+rest had quieted my nerves and had left me in a much better state of
+health, so that when the two weeks were up and the day came for my
+return I gladly got on the train leaving Charing Cross, and all day
+looked forward to my return to the squadron. By great luck, I managed
+to catch an automobile going in my direction from Boulogne, and
+arrived at the aerodrome the same night I had left London. I felt like
+a small boy returning home for his holidays. I was plied with questions
+as to what “good old England” looked like, what I had done and what was
+happening in “Blighty”; and in my turn I was full of questions as to
+what had happened in the squadron while I was away. Many things had:
+several people had been killed, and quite a number of Hun machines had
+been shot down by our pilots. A great many exciting and a great many
+amusing fights in the air were related.
+
+It was typical of the attitude of these comrades of mine that when a
+man had been in an exceedingly tight corner and had managed to squeeze
+out of it, it was later related as a very amusing, not as a very
+terrible, incident, and as the narrator would tell his story the others
+would shriek with laughter at the tale of how nearly he had been hit
+and how “scared” he had been. It was such a wonderful way to take life
+that, upon looking back at it, I feel that nothing the future can ever
+hold for me can excel those wonderful days. Face to face with death
+every day, but always with the best of comrades and the most tried of
+friends, it has left a wonderful memory with me.
+
+The day after rejoining the squadron, I did my first job at 9 o’clock
+in the morning. I must admit I felt very funny in the machine. I seemed
+to have lost all “feel” of it and could not turn or fly it properly at
+all. However, that day I had two jobs, and by the end of the second
+luckily had run into no exciting episodes.
+
+Then came the reaction. I felt a wonderful thrill at being back in the
+air again, and handling my beloved Nieuport. It seemed that nothing was
+dangerous, and that to throw this machine about in the air was just
+the best sport that had ever been invented. I remember racing along
+close to the ground, seeing how close I could make my wing-tips come to
+the sheds and trees without hitting them. It was all just a wonderful
+thrill, and no thought of peril entered my head. That evening I went up
+and spent an hour in flying, just for the pure pleasure of it. Life
+was as sweet as it could be, and I saw the world through rose-coloured
+glasses.
+
+That night the romance of our life at the front was brought home to me
+again. We spent the evening after dark standing around a piano, while
+one of our number played popular songs, the remainder singing in loud
+and varied keys, going on the principle that if you cannot sing, at
+least you can make a joyful noise.
+
+About 9 o’clock a party of ten others arrived from a squadron stationed
+near us, and we had more music and songs with them. Everybody was
+happy; flying and fighting had been forgotten for the moment, and war
+was a thing far, far away. Toward the end of the party we went to
+the farmyard near by, appropriated some small pigs only a few months
+old, and placed them in the room of one of our pilots who was dining
+out. Then, about 11 o’clock, when he had come back, we went into the
+next room to listen through the thin partition to his remarks when he
+entered his pig-filled boudoir. In a small space about 10 by 6 over
+fifteen of us were jammed anxiously waiting for the climax of the
+evening. In the other room the little pigs were grunting away merrily,
+and it was all we could do to keep from roaring with laughter. It was
+pitch black, and with the funny little squeals coming through the
+partition there would occasionally be a bit of a scamper, for although
+we at first placed the pigs on the bed, on looking over the partition I
+saw they were moving around the room in formation, one of their number
+evidently having assigned himself the position of leader of the pork
+patrol.
+
+Unfortunately, the episode fell through miserably, as the pigs took
+up a station near the door, and when the owner of the room returned
+and opened it he walked across to light his lamp. The pigs, seeing the
+opening before he had seen them, made a dash and managed to get out,
+with a great chorus of squealing. They hid under the huts, and it took
+the rest of us several hours to find them and take them back to their
+mother.
+
+After going to bed, I was awakened by one of my dogs scampering out
+of the hut. I listened for a minute and heard voices outside, got up
+and walked out in my pyjamas. It was a perfect moonlight night, without
+a breath of wind, and bright as could be. Outside two or three others
+were standing in pyjamas, and after asking what was the matter I was
+told there was a German machine overhead. Listening carefully, I could
+hear the beat of a Mercédès engine about a mile away. We could not see
+the Hun, but could hear him quite distinctly as he flew past. Then came
+the explosions as a few bombs were dropped, and then more explosions
+as the anti-aircraft guns located the moonlight marauder and began to
+fire. We could see little bursts of flame as the shells exploded high
+in the air. It was a beautiful show. The light was too bright even to
+see the stars, but these fierce little bursts of flame dotted the sky
+first in one spot, then in another, and gradually travelled in a line
+towards the trenches, as the enemy made in that direction. He got away
+safely, however, and we returned to bed.
+
+In our home in a beautiful green orchard, our life was full of the most
+extraordinary contrasts. One minute we were as far removed from the war
+as if we were in South America, and an hour later we would be fighting
+for our lives or carrying on in some way directly connected with the
+mad world-struggle. It all added to the lure of life and somehow made
+the real fighting, when it came, seem less real and tragic.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+
+The second day after my return I began another three months of
+strenuous battles. The squadron had been assigned a new kind of work
+to do, in addition to regular patrol. This lasted throughout a great
+part of the month of June, and gave us some very strenuous mornings,
+although the afternoons were generally easier.
+
+My first fight occurred in the early morning, about 7 o’clock, when I
+was leading a patrol. The clouds were very low, being about 4,000 feet,
+the lower part of each cloud having a thin hanging mist about it. This
+made it possible to fly just in the mist, without being seen at more
+than 200 yards.
+
+I had been gazing far into enemy territory, and suddenly saw five enemy
+scouts dive out of the clouds, then, after coming in our direction for
+a moment or two, dive back into the mist. I thought they were trying
+to surprise us, and crawled up as close to the clouds as I could,
+heading in their direction. Suddenly they loomed up just in front of
+us, and evidently were more surprised than we were. I only managed to
+get in a short burst, when my machine gun jammed hopelessly; but the
+remainder of the patrol gave chase to the Huns as they turned to run
+and scattered them helter-skelter. One man appeared to be hit, and one
+of my men went after him in a vertical dive to 1,000 feet from the
+ground, when the enemy suddenly regained control, and darted across his
+own lines, escaping.
+
+Later in the day I went out by myself, and, flying over Vimy Ridge and
+Lens, was watching a ground battle taking place there, when suddenly I
+saw a single scout of the enemy underneath me. He did not see me, and
+I dived at him and managed to fall into the much-desired position just
+behind his tail. I opened fire, and my tracer bullets could be seen
+going all around the pilot’s seat. I had considerable speed from my
+dive, and was going much faster than he was, so whirled past him. Then,
+to avoid getting him behind me, I “zoomed” up and, after reaching 500
+feet above, made a quick turn to see what had happened. To this day I
+have not the faintest idea what happened. My enemy entirely disappeared
+from view. I looked all around underneath, and everywhere else, but
+could not see him. Later, I telephoned to the anti-aircraft batteries
+and infantry stations near the front-line trenches, but they could give
+no information. That particular Hun must have dissolved.
+
+Ten minutes later I had another fight. I had seen, some distance away,
+two of the enemy. They were fighting machines, so I reconnoitred
+carefully, and a little later discovered two more Huns were flying
+2,000 feet above them. I climbed up, and looked carefully from a
+distance at these; then climbed a little higher, with the idea of
+attacking them, when I suddenly saw two more Huns 3,000 feet above the
+second pair. It was a layer formation, and a favourite trap of the
+Huns, their idea being that our machines would come along and attack
+the lower pair, in which case the middle pair would come down on top
+of them, leaving the highest pair in reserve. This had been tried
+innumerable times, and had been more or less successful, but, long
+since, our people had become wise and always watched for anything of
+that sort. By pure luck, that morning, I saw the top pair, and, flying
+away off to one side, climbed as fast as I could until 2,000 feet above
+them; then followed along. I was quite certain there was no fourth
+pair, and also knew that the third pair would be very keen on watching
+underneath them to see that their comrades were not attacked. It was a
+case of the trappers trapped; and, successful on this occasion, I was
+always on the look-out for the same sort of thing after that day, and
+succeeded in bringing down some of the top-side people on several other
+occasions.
+
+This day I dived down at the top pair, one of which was flying directly
+behind the other. I did not touch my trigger until I was fifty yards
+from him; then opened a stiff fire. This machine, as on the previous
+time I had used a similar trick, knew nothing of what was coming to
+him at all. He also probably never knew what hit him, because, slipping
+to one side, his machine went into a spin and fell completely out of
+control. I did not wait to attack the other man, as I was underneath
+him; and by the time he had turned to see what was happening, I was a
+quarter of a mile away, and going for home as fast as possible. It was
+the first machine to my credit since my return from England, and I was
+greatly pleased.
+
+By this time I had become very ambitious, and was hoping to get a large
+number of machines officially credited to me before I left France. With
+this object in view, I planned many little expeditions of my own, and,
+with the use of great patience, I was very successful in one or two.
+
+The next day I was out with my patrol again in the morning, and met six
+enemy scouts. There were six of us as well, but in the earlier part
+of the “scrap” which immediately followed, my gun, which seemed to
+be causing me a lot of trouble, again jammed, and I signalled to the
+others that I had to leave the fight. I dived away, and landed on an
+aerodrome near by to correct the jam.
+
+Three-quarters of an hour later I was again in the air, but could not
+find the patrol, so I flew up over Vimy Ridge. There was one of my old
+friends, a big, fat two-seater, and I went after him with joy in my
+soul. Three times I managed to get in a burst of fire, diving once from
+straight above and once from either side, but I did not seem to be able
+to hit him at all.
+
+Glancing suddenly over my shoulder, I saw two enemy scouts coming to
+the rescue from above. They had been sitting away up in the blue sky,
+in order to protect this machine, and, luckily for me, had not seen
+me sooner. I cleared off, and carefully thought how I was to get my
+revenge. Nothing in the world but that fat two-seater attracted my
+attention. I was annoyed at having missed him, after such good chances,
+and was determined I was at least going to have another good go at him
+before giving up. The only trouble was the two enemy scouts above, and
+I did not know how to get rid of them. They had seen me, and probably
+had their eye on me at the moment.
+
+I flew away, and came back in five minutes. Luck was with me; another
+one of our machines had flown slightly above the two enemy scouts, who
+had turned and fled from him. He had chased them, and they had made a
+detour, evading him. All this I took in at a glance, and saw that they
+were trying to get back to protect their two-seater comrade, and had no
+desire to fight, themselves. Seeing my opportunity, as the two-seater
+did not seem to know that the scouts had temporarily deserted him, I
+dived at him again, and this time closed up to within 50 yards before
+opening fire. Then, taking an accurate aim, I pulled the trigger. I
+can remember to this day how carefully I aimed that time. I was dead
+behind him, and I picked out the finest point in the pilot’s body where
+I wanted my bullets to hit. The observer in the two-seater ceased
+firing at me a moment before I opened, and began to work frantically
+at his gun. It had the jamming habit, too. A few rounds were enough.
+The machine put its nose down, dived vertically a short distance,
+then went into an uncontrolled spinning dive, and I watched it as it
+fell racing down towards the ground, with the engine full on. As is
+always the case, it seemed to take an age before it reached the ground.
+Finally, it crashed into the centre of a village, striking between two
+houses.
+
+Ten minutes later I had climbed up and was above the two scouts, so
+decided to give them at least a scare. I opened fire at long range,
+and, for a moment, thought I had hit one of them. He went into a spin,
+but 2,000 feet below flattened out and flew away. The other one climbed
+and I could not catch him, so turned and flew north.
+
+Another two-seater, who had been flying along the lines, was now 3,000
+feet above me. I opened fire at him from underneath, at very long
+range, but, of course, could not hit, the range being too long.
+
+Many exciting fights occurred with the machines doing artillery
+observation. They were a very difficult proposition. They knew for a
+certainty they would be attacked, and would fly in threes and fours,
+or more, going about on their beat all together, and helping their own
+lines, and at a height of 3,000 feet. It made it very difficult for
+us to attack, as, the height being low, we would have to make a dash
+across the lines at them, and then back again. Over and over again
+one would carefully figure out where they would be nearest the lines,
+then, at that moment, dash across at full speed. The enemy, immediately
+upon seeing the anti-aircraft shells burst around you, would turn east
+and fly towards home, going as fast as they could, and at the same
+time losing height. It meant that really to destroy or damage them,
+one had to fly ten or twelve miles in to catch them; then they would
+only be at a height of some 500 or 1,000 feet. This was our task. The
+anti-aircraft fire was terrific, going in not as bad as coming back;
+but the moment we turned to come home all the guns in the neighbourhood
+would open at us, and, if we were low enough, we would also be
+subjected to the most intense machine-gun fire from the ground.
+
+This did not occur once a week; it was a thing that happened to each
+one of us three and four times, or even more, in the course of a
+morning’s work, and was the most trying job we had to do. Most of
+the fights followed the same lines, three or four of us crossing at
+full speed, zigzagging slightly in our course to upset the aim of the
+“Archies,” and then following closely the enemy machines, which were
+all the time directing a steady machine-gun fire at us. Our object was
+more to frighten them away than really to bring them down. Then would
+come a quick turn, and a dash back home. This would be very hard to
+do. One would turn suddenly to the right or left, trying to evade the
+bursting shells, but they were cracking on all sides. It would seem
+that one could not possibly get through them, and the thought that one
+little bit of shell in the engine would put the whole machine out of
+business was enough to give anybody nerves. As it was, we were nearly
+always hit by small fragments, but this was considered nothing, and, of
+course, no reason for not liking the job. My previous experience in
+escorting the photography machines had taught me that other people have
+to stand anti-aircraft fire as well as ourselves, and for them, being
+larger and slower, it is a thousand times worse.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+
+My record of machines brought down was now in the vicinity of twenty,
+and I saw I had a rare chance of really getting a lot before going on
+my next leave--at the end of my second three months at the front.
+
+With this object in view I planned an expedition into the enemy
+country, to attack an enemy aerodrome. I had carefully thought it out,
+and came to the conclusion that if one could get to an aerodrome when
+there were some machines on the ground and none in the air, it would be
+an easy matter to shoot them down the moment they would attempt to come
+up. It would be necessary for them to take off straight into the wind,
+if there was a strong wind at all, so I could not be surprised that
+way, and would be able to hit them if I came low enough, before they
+would get a chance to manœuvre or turn out of my way.
+
+I planned this expedition after much thought, and set it for June 2nd,
+as that was to be my day off. Dawn was the hour I considered advisable,
+as there would be very few machines in the air, and I would have a
+great chance of evading trouble on the way to the aerodrome. I spent my
+spare moments, the next few days, arranging the details.
+
+In the meantime I had several more fights. On May 31st I went out in
+the morning about 8 o’clock, and the sky seemed deserted. However, I
+crossed over into enemy territory, and in a few minutes sighted two
+machines. They were flying south. I followed, and suddenly they began
+to spiral down. Apparently they had just finished their time in the
+air, and were coming down to land. So I flew as quickly as I could, and
+reached the nearest one, whom I attacked, firing a burst from 50 yards
+range. I missed him completely, I think. He turned, and we had quite
+a fight, lasting four or five minutes. Luckily, his companion had not
+seen us, and had kept on going down. My opponent seemed a very good
+man, and every time, just as I thought I was going to get in a burst
+of fire, he would make some clever manœuvre and evade me altogether,
+with the result that I was having a very hard time myself, and had
+to keep my eyes open so that he would not get a good shot at me. For
+a moment or two I was a bit worried, but suddenly I managed to get
+slightly behind him, and at a favourable angle, only 15 yards away. I
+pulled the trigger, and his machine fell out of control. Much pleased,
+I waited over the spot to see him crash--which he did.
+
+The next morning, remembering my bad shooting in the beginning of this
+fight, I spent some extra time on the target at the aerodrome. During
+that day I went out no less than four times, looking for a fight, but
+in only one case did I even get near enough to open fire at an enemy
+machine; that time only getting within 150 yards of it. Two of us went
+after him, but, as usual, he decided that it was not healthy, and
+putting his engine full on, dived away as quickly as he could go, to
+the tune of our machine guns behind him. However, it had no result
+except to frighten him. He did not return. The remainder of that day
+all the German machines seemed very nervous, and we could not get
+within range of any of them.
+
+Now came the day planned for my expedition. I wrote my name on the
+blackboard, the night before, to be called at 3 o’clock, and sat down
+for the last time to consider exactly if the job was worth the risk.
+However, as nothing like it had been done before, I knew that I would
+strike the Huns by surprise, and, considering that, I decided the risk
+was not nearly so great as it seemed, and that I might be able to get
+four or five more machines to my credit, in one great swoop.
+
+At 3 o’clock I was called and got up. It was pitch-black. I dressed,
+and went in to tell two of my friends that I was off. They were
+not entirely in favour of the expedition, and said so again.
+Notwithstanding this, I went on to the aerodrome, and got away just as
+the first streaks of dawn were showing in the upper sky.
+
+I flew straight across the lines, towards the aerodrome I had planned
+to attack, and coming down low, decided to carry out my plan and stir
+them up with a burst of machine-gun fire into their hangar sheds. But,
+on reaching the place, I saw there was nothing on the ground. Everyone
+must have been either dead asleep or else the station was absolutely
+deserted. Greatly disappointed, I decided I would try the same stunt
+some other day on another aerodrome, which I would have to select.
+
+In the meantime, for something to do, I flew along low over the
+country, in the hope of coming on some camp or group of troops so as to
+scatter them. I felt that the danger was nil, as most of the crews of
+the guns which ordinarily would fire at me would still be asleep, and I
+might as well give any Huns I could find a good fright. I was in rather
+a bad temper at having my carefully laid plan fall through so quickly,
+and nothing would have pleased me better than to have run across a
+group of fat Huns drilling in a field, or something of that sort.
+However, nothing appeared, and I was just thinking of turning and going
+home, or of climbing up to see if there were some Huns in the upper
+sky, when ahead, and slightly to one side of me, I saw the sheds of
+another aerodrome, I at once decided that here was my chance, although
+it was not a very favourable one, as the aerodrome was pretty far back
+from the lines. To make good my escape from this place would not be as
+easy as I had hoped. Furthermore, I was not even certain where I was,
+and that was my greatest worry, as I was a bit afraid that if I had
+any bad fights I might have trouble in finding my way back. Scurrying
+along close to the ground, zigzagging here and there, one’s sense of
+direction becomes slightly vague.
+
+Another half-minute and I was over the aerodrome, about 300 feet up.
+On the ground were seven German machines, and in my first glance I saw
+that some of them actually had their engines running. Mechanics were
+standing about in groups. Then I saw a thing which surprised me very
+much--six of the machines were single-seaters, and one a two-seater. I
+was not very anxious for the two-seater to come up to attack me, as in
+taking off he would have a certain amount of protection from behind,
+with his observer, while the single-seater could have none. However, in
+this, luck also favoured me, as the two-seater did not move at all.
+
+I pointed my nose towards the ground, and opened fire with my gun,
+scattering the bullets all around the machines, and coming down to 50
+feet in doing so. I do not know how many men I hit, or what damage was
+done, except that one man, at least, fell, and several others ran to
+pick him up. Then, clearing off to one side, I watched the fun. I had
+forgotten by this time that they would, of course, have machine guns
+on the aerodrome, and as I was laughing to myself, as they tore around
+in every direction on the ground, like people going mad or rabbits
+scurrying about, I heard the old familiar rattle of the quick-firers
+on me. I did not dare go too far away, however, as then I would not
+be able to catch the machines as they left the ground, so turning
+quickly and twisting about, I did my best to evade the fire from the
+ground. Looking at my planes, I saw that the guns were doing pretty
+good shooting. There were several holes in them already, and this made
+me turn and twist all the more. Then one machine suddenly began to
+“taxi” off down the aerodrome. It increased its speed quickly, and I
+immediately tore down after it. I managed to get close on its tail,
+when it was just above the ground, and opened fire from dead behind
+it. There was no chance of missing, and I was as cool as could be.
+Just fifteen rounds, and it side-slipped to one side, then crashed on
+the aerodrome underneath. I was now keyed up to the fight, and turning
+quickly, saw another machine just off the ground. Taking careful aim
+at it, I fired from longer range than before, as I did not want to
+waste the time of going up close. For one awful moment I saw my bullets
+missing, and aimed still more carefully, all the time striving to get
+nearer. The Hun saw I was catching him up, and pushed his nose down;
+then, gazing over his shoulder at the moment I was firing at him, he
+crashed into some trees near the aerodrome. I think I hit him just
+before he came to the trees, as my tracers were then going in an
+accurate line.
+
+I again turned towards the aerodrome. This time my heart sank, because
+two machines were taking off at the same time, and in slightly
+different directions. It was the one thing I had dreaded. There was
+not much wind, and it was possible for them to do this. I had made up
+my mind, before, that if they attempted to do this I would immediately
+make good my escape, but I had counted on being higher. However, true
+to my intention, I began to climb. One of the enemy machines luckily
+climbed away at some distance, while the other made up straight after
+me. At 1,000 feet, and only a few hundred yards from the aerodrome, I
+saw that he was catching me, so turned on him and opened fire. We made
+about two circuits around each other, neither getting a very good shot,
+but in the end I managed to get in a short burst of fire, and this
+machine went crashing to the ground, where it lay in a field, a few
+hundred yards from the aerodrome.
+
+The fourth machine then came up, and I opened fire on him. I was now
+greatly worried as to how I was to get away, as I was using up all my
+ammunition, and there seemed to be no end to the number of machines
+coming up. I was afraid that other machines from other aerodromes
+would also come in answer to telephone calls, and wanted to get away
+as quickly as I could. But there was no chance of running from this
+man--he had me cold--so I turned at him savagely, and, in the course of
+a short fight, emptied the whole of my last drum at him. Luckily, at
+the moment I finished my ammunition, he also seemed to have had enough
+of it, as he turned and flew away. I seized my opportunity, climbed
+again, and started for home.
+
+To my dismay I discovered four enemy scouts above me. I was terrified
+that they would see me, so flew directly underneath them, for some
+time--almost a mile, I should think--going directly south. Then,
+deciding that I must do something, I took the bit in my teeth and
+slipped away. They did not attempt to attack me at all, so I am not
+sure whether they even saw me or not.
+
+I now headed in the approximate direction of our lines, and flew in
+rather a dazed state toward them. I had not had any breakfast, and was
+feeling very queer at my stomach. The excitement, and the reaction
+afterwards, had been a bit too much, as well as the cold morning air.
+It seemed, once or twice, that my head was going around and around, and
+that something must happen. For the only time in my life it entered my
+thoughts that I might lose my senses in a moment, and go insane. It was
+a horrible feeling, and I also had the terrible sensation that I would
+suffer from nausea any minute. I was not at all sure where I was, and
+furthermore did not care. The thrills and exultation I had at first
+felt had all died away, and nothing seemed to matter but this awful
+feeling of dizziness and the desire to get home and on the ground.
+
+By the time I reached the aerodrome, however, I felt much better,
+and flew over our still sleeping huts, firing off my signal lights
+frantically, to show them I had certainly had some success. I landed,
+and my sergeant immediately rushed out and asked me how many I had
+bagged. When I told him three, he was greatly pleased, and yelled it
+back to the mechanics who were waiting by the shed. Then, as I crawled
+out of my machine, I heard the remarks of the mechanics around me. They
+were looking it over. Everywhere it was shot about, bullet-holes being
+in almost every part of it, although none, luckily, within 2 feet of
+where I sat. Parts of the machine were so badly damaged as to take a
+lot of repairing; but I used the same patched planes in the machine for
+some time afterward, and always felt great affection for it for pulling
+me through such a successful enterprise. I personally congratulated the
+man who had charge of my gun, suddenly realizing that if it had jammed
+at a critical moment what a tight corner I would have been in.
+
+Within three or four hours I had received many congratulations upon
+this stunt, and what I had planned as merely a way of shooting down
+some more of the Huns I found the authorities considered a very
+successful expedition. It pleased me very much--and, of course, I have
+always kept the telegrams of congratulations which I received that
+day. At first I had been disappointed in the net result, for when I
+started out I had rather hoped they would all take off as the first
+machine did, and that I would be able to bag, at the very least, four.
+But, on looking back at it, I think I was over-optimistic, and was very
+lucky to have brought down as many as I did.
+
+That afternoon I was still suffering from the excitement of the morning
+and, although tired out, could not sleep, so with one other man I
+climbed in my machine and flew about fifty miles south, to pay a visit
+to another of our aerodromes there. We left to return about 5 o’clock
+and had more excitement, as a rain-storm was coming up, and for the
+last ten minutes had to plough through a drizzle. It was pretty dreary
+work, and I was very glad to see the aerodrome again. An hour later I
+was sound asleep in my bed, and did not awaken until the next morning.
+
+Next morning we had a most discouraging time. For several days there
+had not been many German machines on the lines, and we had been very
+successful in stopping them from doing their artillery work. But on
+this morning, when, with our usual confidence of finding only one or
+two, we slipped across the lines after them, we suddenly made out
+everywhere, groups of four or five; and, counting them up, I found
+there were no less than twenty-three German machines within three
+miles of the front. There were only three of us, so it was rather
+puzzling what to do. In some way we had to stop the machines from doing
+artillery work, and it was not a very pleasant prospect for three to
+pile into the middle of over twenty, with the likelihood of still more
+coming from other directions. However, we stayed just on the German
+side of the line, and they did not seem very anxious to attack us. So,
+whenever two or three would get separated from the others, we would
+pretend to go near them, and they would shy away towards the rest of
+their machines. It was terribly annoying to have to sit there and see
+so many fat Huns go unmolested, and after we landed we agreed that if
+it ever happened again, one of us would go back, get more machines
+to help, and then we would engage the lot in a real battle royal. So
+many times we could not find any of them, when we were just dying for a
+fight; now they were in such huge numbers it would be folly to mix up
+with them.
+
+We managed to have three short goes at different artillery machines in
+the course of half an hour next day, but they were not “having any,”
+however, and turned away and fled towards home.
+
+Another time, while flying on the lines, my engine suddenly stopped
+dead. Nothing I could do had any effect on it, and I glided back toward
+home. At first I was a bit afraid I would not even clear the shell
+area, and it meant crashing into some deep hole, but there was a slight
+wind behind me, and with the help of this I glided on and on into clear
+country, where there was an aerodrome.
+
+In one week I had no less than three engine failures, although I have
+hardly ever had one at any other time. But, as luck would have it, I
+was always able to glide down and just reach the same aerodrome. I
+got to know it quite well by the end of the week.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+                                            Canadian Official Photograph
+
+The Lewis Gun on my Nieuport.]
+
+On June 8th fortune favoured me. I had had two indecisive combats,
+when, to my great joy, I saw in the distance another layer formation
+of six Huns in groups of two. So I manœuvred again, to attack the
+top pair. After creeping up slowly and carefully behind one of them,
+I opened fire, and he went straight away into a spinning nose-dive,
+which he could not come out of, and crashed into the ground. The other
+machine of the top layer saw me, but had no desire to fight, and dived
+away immediately toward the rest of his formation. I pointed my nose
+down at him and fired, but he was too far away and escaped.
+
+This was again my day off, so I had deserted my own part of the lines
+and flown away up north where the battle of Messines was raging, and I
+had heard there were more German machines up in that direction. It was
+a good tip, and I was glad I had come.
+
+A little later I saw the same or another formation of four, flying
+about in a group. I did not feel like going down and getting into the
+middle of them, so I stayed above and tried the old game of diving and
+coming up again, just to worry them. It evidently did, as they only
+stood for it twice, and then, losing height, made away as fast as they
+could go.
+
+Over a week passed now before I had another fight at all. Many times
+I sighted enemy aircraft, but they were always in the distance, and
+after a hot chase I would have to give it up. Then would come the
+disagreeable return journey against the anti-aircraft fire. By this
+time I was getting to hate the German guns, as they often caught me
+at low altitude and made the way home so nasty. One night when a
+shell burst near me, I happened to see the flash of the gun that was
+firing, and as it was almost directly beneath me, I threw my machine
+out of control, with a sudden inspiration, and let it fall for several
+thousand feet. Then, about two thousand feet from the ground, I
+opened fire at the battery on the ground. I was too high to see just
+what effect my fire had, but it evidently silenced them, and from
+later results certainly annoyed them very much, because every time I
+crossed the line on “Blue Nose,” this gun would open fire fiercely,
+concentrating on me, no matter how many other machines were in the air.
+
+About five miles south of this position, on another day, I was
+flying at a height of 2,000 feet, and saw another “Archie” firing,
+so I dived down to about 500 feet from the ground and scattered some
+flaming bullets around him. This battery also gave “Blue Nose” special
+attention from that day on.
+
+It became a favourite habit of ours, about this time, when there were
+no enemy machines up above, to come down low and attack the enemy
+trenches, from a height of from 100 to 500 feet. We would come down
+behind them, and, diving at them that way, open fire. It evidently
+frightened the Huns very much, from reports which we later heard.
+
+In the June evenings the sky was a beautiful sight at sunset. If there
+was any wind blowing at all, the mist would be cleared away, and one
+could see almost to the end of the world. The ground was a riot of
+beautiful colours, and the dusty roads stretched away like long white
+ribbons.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+
+All of June was marked by the most perfect weather. The prevailing
+strong west winds stopped and a light breeze blew constantly from
+the east. Some days there was hardly a stir in the air. From dawn
+until sundown there was rarely a cloud in the sky, and although the
+heat-waves from the effect of the sun on the earth made flying very
+rough when near the ground, the days were wonderful, and we all felt
+like kings.
+
+The mornings were very busy, as there were many calls to chase away
+hostile aircraft; but the afternoons we generally had to ourselves, and
+although it was necessary to stay right on the aerodrome, we found many
+amusements there.
+
+The mess was situated on the very edge of the aerodrome and about
+twenty yards from a farmhouse, which possessed the most extraordinary
+farmyard I have ever seen. There were pigeons by the hundreds, and
+all kinds of fowl possible to imagine. A small pond in the middle of
+the farmyard afforded exercise and amusement for a flock of ducks. The
+raising of pigs, however, seemed to be the farmer’s great specialty,
+and to these pigs I owe many amusing hours.
+
+One afternoon, while looking through the farmyard, three of us decided
+to capture a large hog and trail it back to our quarters to shoo it
+into the room of a friend, who was at the moment sleeping. It was very
+easy to get the idea, but for inexperienced people it was a difficult
+job to get the porker.
+
+After much mature deliberation we decided upon our victim--the largest
+and dirtiest one in the farmyard. It was lying half-buried in the mud
+near the pond, so with a few small pebbles we woke it up and frightened
+it on to dry land. Then began the chase. Two or three times we managed
+to corner it, but with a series of grunts and squeals it would charge
+one of us and make a clean get-away. Finally, seeing no other course
+open, we drove it into a small pig-pen which had only one outlet, an
+opening with a door covering it up to about 3 feet high. Opening the
+door, we shooed the pig in. It seemed to have no objection, and after
+it went one of my comrades with a rope. I carefully closed the door and
+bolted it from the outside, so that the pig could not force it open.
+Then, peering over the top, I witnessed a remarkable scene. The hog
+was now desperate and tearing around in a circle, squealing for all it
+was worth. My companion with the rope was trying to fix a noose on one
+of the hind legs. In doing so the pig kicked him, and turning, nearly
+knocked him over as it rushed past. The next phase was a cry of “Open
+the door and let me out.” The airman was as badly frightened as the
+hog. Suddenly, with an extra squeal, our supposed victim made a leap up
+the door and, firmly fastening fore legs on to the top of it, worked up
+like a fat gymnast and fell over on the outside. By this time we were
+all laughing so hard we could not interfere, and the pig got away.
+
+Refusing to be beaten, we employed the services of a small French boy
+to help us, and he sneaked up behind another huge pig and fastened
+the rope to a hind leg. I then took hold of it to drive it home, but
+the poor beast, upon learning that he was tied up, had no intention of
+giving in, and immediately started away at a furious gallop, dragging
+me after it. Once around the farmyard we went, and half again, before I
+tripped on a stone and fell flat, and this pig also escaped. You see, I
+was having no luck with Huns.
+
+Again the French boy came to our rescue and secured Mr. Pig, showing us
+how to drive it properly. This we did, and managed in the course of the
+next three-quarters of an hour to get the pig as far as the officers’
+quarters. To drive him in was a difficult matter, but with numerous
+assistants and much noise and shouting he finally entered, but, of
+course, the sleeping man had been awake long since. However, we got the
+pig into his room, where he was standing in his pyjamas, and to see a
+brave man frightened is a rare sight, but the rest of us had the chance
+then.
+
+We took the pig into the mess to show him about, putting him in a
+little cage made of the fire-fender. He seemed quite satisfied here for
+a moment, then, deciding that he would like to get away, stuck his nose
+under the edge of the fire-fender, heaved it over his back, and with a
+disgusted grunt walked out. Feeling that he had earned his freedom, we
+let him go.
+
+Every afternoon after that we found much fun out of the different
+animals in the farmyard. The French people were as pleased as we were
+until some of their ducks stopped laying, when, of course, we made good
+the value of the eggs that came not, and a great many more that would
+never have come.
+
+One afternoon we secured three ducks and a lot of paint. One duck we
+painted with circles around it of red, white, and blue, just like the
+Allied markings on our machine. Of the other two we painted one red
+and one bright blue. They did not seem to appreciate it, but they were
+distinguished-looking ducks until about two months later, when they
+began to moult. Then one would see wandering through the grass a weird
+sight looking like a moth-eaten bird, a dirty scarlet in some places
+and a dirty white in others. It would be a horrible sight close to, but
+from a distance quite pretty, resembling some bird of paradise.
+
+These ducks we tried hard to train, trying to teach them to walk on the
+ground in formations the same as we flew in the air. They were not very
+adept pupils, however, and, instead of walking at correct distances
+apart, would keep looking behind at us, and jostling into the men on
+the right and left.
+
+One afternoon we got as many as sixteen ducks, and after giving them a
+good luncheon, by way of celebration for their outing, we put them on
+the roof of the mess, where they all sat in a stately row, quacking in
+spasms.
+
+These incidents, though simple to tell now, at that time afforded us
+the greatest amusement, and as we were in no way cruel to the animals,
+the French people who owned them did not seem to mind.
+
+However, perhaps one day we carried it a little far, as we tried to
+find the effect of alcohol upon the ducks. This was most amusing with
+two or three, because, although they did not like the first drop of it,
+when they had been forced to swallow that, they eagerly cried for more.
+Their return home was a ludicrous sight, sitting down on the ground
+every minute or two, and always walking in a “beaucoup” zigzag course,
+as the French would say. Once we got hold of the head drake of the
+flock, and, imagining him to be able to stand a little more than the
+rest, gave him a drop too much, with the result that he unfortunately
+died. It took quite a bit of broken French and more expressive French
+notes to reconcile the owner to his loss, but after a long and painful
+conversation of nearly half an hour he was in a better humour and,
+incidentally, a richer man. With that our attention to the ducks
+ceased, although by this time three-quarters of the flock had been
+painted various hues.
+
+We now returned to the pigs, and found much fun with the smaller ones.
+These also were painted, and we always referred to their different
+parts in aeronautical terms, such as calling their legs their
+“under-carriage” and their bodies their “fuselage.”
+
+One little pig we had was a most successful picture. His legs and the
+under-part of his body were all painted scarlet, his nose and tail as
+well. On his back were huge red, white, and blue circles. The rest of
+his body was touched with red, white and blue, his ears being blue. It
+was very good paint, and the result was a beautifully shining, coloured
+pig. When he returned that night to the others they stood off and gazed
+at him in amazement, and for days would not associate with him. It was
+indeed a red-letter day in his existence, as he was certainly THE pig
+amongst all pigs.
+
+Using the French boy on another occasion, we again secured a large sow.
+Upon her we painted black crosses, a huge black cross on her nose, a
+little one on each ear, and a large one on each side. Then on her back
+we painted Baron von Richtofen. So that the other pigs would recognize
+that she was indeed a leader, we tied a leader’s streamer on her tail.
+This trailed for some 3 feet behind her as she walked, and was exactly
+the same sort of thing that the leader of a patrol of aeroplanes uses
+so that he can be identified.
+
+When the “Baron” returned to the farmyard everything else there
+immediately concentrated its attention upon the weird sight. Chickens,
+ducks, pigs, and geese all followed the big sow as she walked around.
+It was certainly a successful circus for our friend von Richtofen, and
+every time she moved around that farmyard she had a good following of
+multi-coloured admirers.
+
+Upon the express condition that we would not paint them, the farmer let
+us have his rabbits in the afternoon. He must have had over 200, and
+we would go in with a blanket and get about twenty-five small ones,
+then take them out and drop them in the green grass, where we would sit
+around under a tree, and play with them or watch them eat. They were
+amusing little things and passed away many hours for us.
+
+However, dogs were our special favourites, so far as pets were
+concerned, and every stray dog we could find we would pick up and bring
+home. Finally we had a huge collection of them, with a variety of
+names ranging from “Kate,” “Rachel,” or “Horace” to “Black Dog” and
+“Nigger.”
+
+They were all good dogs, and I remember well when little Kate, whom we
+had raised from a puppy, was lost. We all felt very badly for days. She
+was reported in the squadron books as “missing,” as she had gone out
+and had not returned. Poor Kate! her life had indeed been hard. As a
+puppy, her first accident was when she had “crashed” off the top of a
+piano, and had broken one of her fore legs. This was no sooner mended
+than somebody walked on her when she was sitting in front of the fire,
+and broke another. A month later an automobile ran over her on the
+road, and broke a third and badly injured her body, so that she was a
+little cripple, and hopped along on three legs, although how she ever
+used them nobody knows. Her body was all twisted, and she had no good
+points except a very charming manner, which made us very fond of her.
+
+“Nigger” was one of my own dogs. One night, returning after having
+dined with some other unit, I found “Nigger” outside my hut. He was a
+big dog, looking very much like an Airedale, only black. It was pouring
+rain and very cold, so I took him in and let him sleep on my bed with
+me. He had a most affectionate way about him, and although quite the
+smelliest dog I have ever known, it was a pleasure to have him about.
+
+The other dogs each had their good points. Rachel--who was a little
+deformed fox-terrier we had picked up on the road simply because she
+was the ugliest-looking thing we had ever seen--turned out to be a
+wonderful ratter, frequently taking on rats twice as long as she was,
+and, although getting badly bitten herself, she would invariably come
+out of the scrap victorious. Nobody would claim Rachel, but she got fed
+somehow, and also got quite a lot of attention, so she stayed with us.
+
+By way of sports, we played tennis a great deal, and did considerable
+riding, two good horses having been lent to the squadron for that
+purpose. Then, too, as the place seemed to be infested with rats, we
+managed to get together some good ratting parties, and with the help
+of some of the dogs had many successful hunts.
+
+Carefully blocking all the holes in the ground, with the exception of
+one or two, we would send smoke down one of these, and with a little
+preliminary squeal three or four rats would rush out of the other. One
+afternoon, inside of half an hour, we caught eighteen rats.
+
+Another sport, and a very good one, was to take a 22-calibre rifle and
+try to shoot individual pigeons on the wing. It was a very hard thing
+to do and required much practice. Luckily we did not hit too often, as
+we paid well for each pigeon we shot down. I remember one afternoon
+firing 500 rounds and only hitting one pigeon, and I considered myself
+lucky to hit that one. This sport was much encouraged, as it was the
+very best practice in the world for the eye of a man whose business it
+is to fight mechanical birds in the air.
+
+Every now and again we would be given a day off. This day would be
+spent, usually, in either sleeping all day or roaming about the
+orchard in silk pyjamas, or else one would go and visit some friends
+who possibly were stationed near. It was a great thing, as it always
+left us keen for work the next day.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+
+By this time I had learned nearly all of the fundamental principles
+of fighting in the air and had more or less decided upon exactly what
+tactics were best for me to use. I also realized the exact limit of my
+ability in carrying these various tactics out, and in fighting acted
+accordingly. I was more than ever firmly resolved now that, having got
+so far in the game and past its most dangerous stages, I would take
+no foolish risks, but continue to wait for the best opportunities. It
+was very hard to restrain oneself at times, but from the middle of May
+until I left France in August, I lost only one man out of my patrol
+killed, and he was shot down on an expedition when I was not with him.
+
+When flying alone, on a day off or something like that, I took
+queer chances, it is true, but flying with the patrol often let
+opportunities slip by because they were not quite good enough; but when
+the right ones came, we were quick to seize them and were nearly always
+successful.
+
+I had learned that the most important thing in fighting was the
+shooting, next the various tactics in coming into the fight, and last
+of all flying ability itself. The shooting, as I have said before, I
+practised constantly and became more and more expert at it, with the
+result that finally I had great confidence in myself, and knew for a
+certainty that if I only could get in a shot from one or two of my
+favourite positions, I would be successful in downing my opponent.
+
+To those who have never seen a war machine I would explain that to
+control one, the pilot has to manipulate but a single lever which we
+call the “joy-stick.” It is very much like the lever with which you
+shift gears on an automobile, but it moves in four directions. If you
+would want your machine to go down, the instinctive move would be to
+lean the body forward. Therefore, the fighting aeroplane is so rigged
+that when the pilot pushes the “joy-stick” forward, the nose of the
+machine points down. In the same way, if he pulls the “joy-stick” back,
+the nose goes up and the machine climbs at any angle he wants it to.
+In turning, it is necessary to bank the machine, otherwise it will
+skid outwards. It is also just as necessary that the machine is not
+banked too much. This is one of the first things a pupil is taught when
+learning to fly.
+
+The “joy-stick” also controls the banking. By moving it to either side
+you can tilt up whichever wing is desired. At his feet the pilot has a
+rudder bar which controls the horizontal direction of the machine. If
+he pushes his left foot forward and banks slightly, the machine turns
+slowly to the left. To go to the right, there is only necessary a push
+with the right foot and a slight bank. The pilot thus has both feet on
+the rudder bar, holds the “joy-stick” with his right hand, and with
+his left controls the engine of the machine by holding the throttle in
+his hand. He is always able to do anything he wishes, either with the
+engine or the machine itself. When firing the gun, he simply moves his
+thumb slightly along the “joy-stick” and presses the lever which pulls
+the trigger.
+
+To be able to fight well, a pilot must be able to have absolute control
+over his machine. He must know by the “feel” of it exactly how the
+machine is, what position it is in, and how it is flying, so that
+he may manœuvre rapidly, and at the same time watch his opponent or
+opponents. He must be able to loop, turn his machine over on its back,
+and do various other flying “stunts”--not that these are actually
+necessary during a combat, but from the fact that he has done these
+things several times he gets absolute confidence, and when the fight
+comes along he is not worrying about how the machine will act. He can
+devote all his time to fighting the other fellow, the flying part of
+it coming instinctively. Thus the flying part, although perhaps the
+hardest to train a man for, is the least important factor in aerial
+fighting. A man’s flying ability may be perfect. He may be able to
+control the machine and handle it like no one else on earth, but if he
+goes into a fight and risks his life many times to get into the right
+position for a good shot, and then upon arriving there cannot hit the
+mark, he is useless. Unable to shoot his opponent down, he must risk
+his life still more in order to get out and away from the enemy, and
+that is why I put aerial gunnery down as the most important factor in
+fighting in the air.
+
+Tactics are next important because, by the proper use of the best
+tactics, it is so easy to help eliminate risks and also so easy to
+put the enemy at a great disadvantage. Surprise is always to be aimed
+for. Naturally if one can surprise the enemy and get into a proper
+position to shoot before he is aware of your presence, it simplifies
+matters tremendously, and there should be no second part to the fight.
+But it is a very hard thing to do, as every fighting man in the air is
+constantly on the look-out for enemy machines. To surprise him requires
+a tremendous amount of patience and many failures before one is ever
+successful. A point to know is the fact that it is easier to surprise
+a formation of four or six than it is to surprise one or two. This
+is probably because the greater number feel more confident in their
+ability to protect themselves, and also are probably counting upon each
+other to do a certain amount of the looking out.
+
+When flying alone or with just one other, it is always a case of
+constantly turning around in your seat, turning your machine to right
+or left, looking above and around or below you all the time. It is a
+very tiring piece of work, so it is but natural that when you have
+three or four other men behind you, you spend more time looking in the
+direction where you hope the enemy machines are, if you want to attack
+them, and to looking at any interesting sights which are on the ground.
+
+In ordinary fight or duel we had tactics, of course, to suit the
+occasion. The great thing is never to let the enemy’s machine get
+behind you, or “on your tail.” Once he reaches there it is very hard to
+get him off, as every turn and every move you make, he makes with you.
+By the same token it is exactly the position into which you wish to
+get, and once there you must constantly strive for a shot as well as
+look out for attacks from other machines that may be near. It is well
+if you are against odds never to stay long after one machine. If you
+concentrate on him for more than a fraction of a second, some other
+Hun has a chance to get a steady shot at you, without taking any risks
+himself. To hit a machine when it is flying at right angles to you
+across your nose is very hard. It requires a good deal of judgment in
+knowing just how far ahead of him to aim. It is necessary to hit the
+pilot himself and not the machine to be successful, and also necessary
+to hit the pilot in the upper part of the body where it will be more
+certain to put him completely out of action at once. When a machine
+goes into flames it is largely a matter of luck, as it means that
+several of your bullets have pierced the petrol tank and ignited the
+vapour escaping from it.
+
+In our tactics we used this cross shot, as it is called, considerably;
+mainly when, after a combat has been broken off for some reason, guns
+having jammed or the engine running badly, it becomes necessary to
+escape. Upon turning to flee, your opponent is able to get a direct
+shot at you from behind. This is decidedly dangerous; so, watching
+carefully over your shoulder and judging the moment he will open fire,
+you turn your machine quickly so as to fly at right angles to him. His
+bullets will generally pass behind you during the manœuvre. The next
+thing to do is to turn facing him and open with your cross fire.
+
+In fighting in company with other machines of your own squadron one
+must be very careful to avoid collisions, and it is also necessary to
+watch all of them carefully as well as the enemy, because it is a code
+of honour to help out any comrade who is in distress, and no matter how
+serious the consequences may seem, there is only one thing to do--dash
+straight in, and at least lend moral support to him. In one case I had
+a Captain out of my own squadron, a New Zealander, come eight miles
+across the lines after both his guns had choked, and he was entirely
+useless as a fighting unit, just to try to bluff away seven of the
+enemy who were attacking me. It was unnecessary in this case, as I had
+the upper hand of the few machines that were really serious about the
+fight; but it was a tremendously brave act on his part, as he ran great
+risks of being killed, while absolutely helpless to defend himself in
+any way.
+
+All fights vary slightly in the tactics required, and it is necessary
+to think quickly and act instantly. Where a large number of machines
+are engaged, one great thing is always to be the upper man--that is,
+to be slightly higher than your particular opponent. With this extra
+height it is quite easy to dive upon him, and it makes manœuvring much
+easier. If, as is often the case, you are the “under dog,” it is a very
+difficult position, and requires great care to carry on the fight with
+any chance of success. Every time your opponent attempts to dive at
+you or attack you in any way, the best thing to do is to turn on him,
+pull the nose of your machine up, and fire. Often while fighting it is
+necessary to attack a machine head-on until you seem to be just about
+to crash in mid-air. Neither machine wants to give way, and collisions
+have been known to occur while doing this. We prided ourselves that we
+hardly ever gave way, and the German was usually the first to swerve.
+At the last moment one of you must dodge up and the other down, and
+there is great risk of both of you doing the same thing, which of
+course is fatal. It is perhaps one of the most thrilling moments in
+fighting in the air when you are only 100 yards apart, and coming
+together at colossal speed, spouting bullets at each other as fast as
+you can.
+
+Once you have passed you must turn instantly to keep your opponent from
+getting a favourable position behind you, and then carry on the fight
+in the usual series of turns and manœuvres. An extraordinary feature
+of these fights which occupied any length of time, and entailed such
+manœuvring, was the fact that they were generally undecisive, one
+machine or the other finally deciding that for some reason or other it
+must quit and make good its escape. In nearly all cases where machines
+have been downed, it was during a fight which had been very short, and
+the successful burst of fire had occurred within the space of a minute
+after the beginning of actual hostilities.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+
+A new kind of enemy was meeting us now--a two-seater machine which
+mounted a small cannon, or shell-firing gun. This was a sort of
+“pom-pom” gun, discharging about a one-pound shell, which would either
+burst upon percussion or after travelling a certain distance through
+the air. Several times, while attacking machines doing artillery work,
+we were surprised to see little white puffs around us, and realized
+suddenly that these were small bursting shells. However, they did no
+harm that I know of, and the Huns did not seem to be able to make even
+decent shooting with them. The first two or three times we met up with
+them they rather frightened us, and we kept away from their field of
+fire, but after a little bit of experience we found there was nothing
+to worry about. Their shooting was so bad the shells invariably burst
+well to one side. Personally, I much preferred “pom-pom” to the wicked
+rattle of a pair of machine guns pointing at me and their smoking
+bullets whining by.
+
+Day after day we chased these machines away from their work, only to
+have to go out an hour later and chase them again. Sometimes we would
+force them right down to the ground, and that would often finish them
+for the day, but it was very seldom that anything decisive occurred.
+
+On June 24th in the early morning, while leading a patrol, I ran into
+a German pilot of exceptional quality. Another fighting patrol of ours
+had been attacking him, when I saw him, and I headed in their direction
+to watch the fight, but they evidently had had enough of it, and left
+him. We, in our turn, took him on, and there followed an extremely hot
+engagement. He managed to get into the middle of us, and it was all we
+could do to keep from colliding as we attacked him. Finally, to add
+to our disgust, he broke off the combat of his own sweet will just at
+the moment he felt he had had enough, and dived away. As we followed,
+diving after him, he would turn under us, then dive again, and repeat
+this performance. It was a most trying thing. I would dive after him,
+then the moment I stopped firing and pulled up to turn and watch where
+he went, I would probably just miss by inches one of our own machines,
+also diving at him, with his eyes on nothing but the enemy. The danger
+of collision in such an attack is very great, and requires a constant
+look-out.
+
+Later in the morning I went out again, alone, and saw two enemy scouts.
+I climbed up above them, and watched carefully, deciding that I would
+take no chances of losing them. Finally, I discovered that they were
+patrolling a given beat, and by waiting up above, at one end of this
+beat, I was able, just at the moment that they turned to go back along
+it again, to dive down, approaching them from behind, and come up
+behind the rear one without him seeing me. I got within 20 yards of
+him, and, just slightly underneath and behind, I pulled the nose of
+my machine up and with very careful aim opened fire. A second later
+and his machine smoked a bit, then suddenly burst into flames and fell
+toward the ground. The other one had dived away from me at first, but
+now climbed back to attack me. I dived at him twice, and opened fire
+both times, but without result. The second time I think he was hit, but
+not seriously, as he dived away and escaped, going through the clouds.
+
+Not long after that I met three more of the enemy, and had a funny
+fight with them, by worrying them from above. In the course of a number
+of short dives I suddenly ran out of ammunition. They had seemed, up
+to this moment, quite keen to fight, and so was I, but now I decided
+I must get away somehow. I was somewhat surprised when I discovered
+that at the same moment I commenced to escape, they also did. We both
+noticed at the same time that the other side was willing to break it
+off, and as the Hun turned to attack me behind, while I was escaping,
+I turned to try to bluff him away. It worked perfectly, and the whole
+three of them again turned their noses east and flew away. It had been
+some time since I had brought down an enemy machine, and I hoped the
+one in flames this day would change my luck for the better again. I
+think it did, for in the week which followed I brought down five in all.
+
+Victory flew with me the following day when I managed to get two more
+scouts on my list. While flying alone, I saw three of them protecting
+a two-seater. They were very intent upon watching their charge and had
+not noticed me, so I flew away some distance and climbed well above
+them, to make certain they had no machines in layer formation above.
+Then I dived on the three scouts. Again I surprised the rear man, and
+after twenty-five rounds, well placed, he burst into flames and went
+down. The other two were at the moment turning towards me; but upon
+seeing the fate of their comrade, one of them dived away and went
+down near the two-seater. The other one turned to engage me. In the
+short fight that followed, he got some bullets very close to me, and
+I to him, but for three or four minutes neither of us seemed able to
+get an appreciable advantage of the other. Then, suddenly I managed
+to get a chance from an angle I knew very well, and opened fire. He
+immediately dropped out of control, and I dived after him, firing as
+he fell. Having finished one drum of ammunition, I had to come out
+of the dive to put a new one on. The other scout and two-seater were
+still in the same place, so getting above them I tried two dives, but
+without result. The observer on the two-seater was doing remarkably
+good shooting, and I did not like to get too close, as it seemed a poor
+way to end a morning’s work by being shot down after starting so well.
+Finishing my ammunition at fairly long range, I returned home.
+
+My luck still held the next day when I found some more scouts, in
+straggling formation. The rear one was slightly above the rest, which
+was very much to my liking, so down I went after him. Again the
+surprise was successful, and, after a short burst, out of control he
+went. I was getting quite callous in doing this, and was afraid of
+myself becoming careless. The only danger I ran was in the fact that
+I might become careless, and if caught while creeping up behind these
+people, and they had a chance to turn on me, it would be a very unhappy
+position to be in. However, this time it was as successful as the rest,
+and as two more scouts who were next highest seemed willing to fight,
+I went down after them. As I approached, one of the two lost his nerve
+and dived away. The other made a turn to come at me, but I opened fire,
+with rough aim, while still a hundred yards away. It was a purely lucky
+shot, and one of my bullets must have accidentally hit an important
+wire in his machine, as suddenly, while doing an exceedingly quick
+turn, two of his planes flew away and his machine fell in pieces.
+
+I did not have any more luck for several days, most of my fights being
+in the usual job of chasing away artillery machines--taking all the
+risks, and never having a chance to get in a decent shot.
+
+A few days later, while out in the morning, thick clouds prevented
+our seeing very much. Several times, while going around or under the
+clouds, I would suddenly catch sight of an enemy machine, then lose it
+again a moment or two later. Once I saw a scout about 300 yards away,
+but he immediately dived toward some clouds, and I could only open fire
+from long range in the hope of frightening him down. Meeting up with
+one of my own squadron, who was also flying alone, a few minutes later,
+we discovered a machine directly underneath us. Down we both went at
+him, and opened fire, but he also disappeared into a cloud, and we flew
+away. Five minutes later he again appeared beneath us. Down at him we
+went, but again he dug himself into the clouds.
+
+After each fight it would be necessary to make certain where you were,
+as a strong wind from the west kept blowing the machines in toward
+Hunland. I had five fights in the course of the morning, but none of
+them was successful or very exciting.
+
+The next day at noon, however, I had enough excitement to last me for
+some time. While on patrol and flying nearly three miles up, I saw
+approaching us from the direction of Germany a fast Hun two-seater
+of the enemy. I guessed at once he thought to cross our lines, and
+flew to attack him. He had seen us, however, and headed in the other
+direction immediately. I found I could not catch up with him, so, in
+great disgust, gave up the chase; then, on thinking it over, decided
+that if he had orders to cross the lines he would probably make another
+attempt. So I flew well off to one side and climbed as fast as I could.
+I could just see him--a speck in the distance--and could see that he
+also was climbing. Finally, when he reached what he surmised was a safe
+height he approached our lines again. I did not make another attempt
+to stop him, hoping that he would get well across, and then I would
+come between him and his own country. He saw me attempt to do this,
+and evidently hoped to evade me by climbing up still higher. A height
+of eighteen thousand feet was reached, and we were still climbing at
+about the same pace. He went well into our territory, and I followed
+at a great distance, watching carefully; then, the moment he started
+for home, went after him. At 19,500 feet we approached each other. I
+opened fire while coming head-on at him. He swerved slightly, and in
+doing so upset my aim. If we had been lower, I would certainly have hit
+him, but the great height and great cold had made my hand numb and a
+little unsteady in controlling the machine. He flew across, in front of
+me, and I turned with him to get in another shot. His observer’s face I
+could make out, as he was firing his gun frantically at me. We passed
+only about 10 yards apart, yet I was shooting so badly I did not bring
+him down. Then, in holding the nose of my machine up, to get a last
+shot at him, I lost too much speed, and suddenly fell several thousand
+feet completely out of control. By the time I had straightened out the
+enemy had escaped, and, in disgust, I rejoined the rest of the patrol
+and continued to fly up and down the lines.
+
+Just as we intended returning, I saw five of the enemy some distance
+away, and underneath us, so flew over and engaged them from above. The
+fight was at 7,000 feet, the height I liked the best, so I went into
+it vigorously. Suddenly, while diving on a Hun machine, I heard the
+rattle of a pair of machine guns just behind me. I was certain that I
+had been trapped and was being fired at from a few feet behind me, so
+turned quickly, just to see one of our own machines shoot by underneath
+me. I continued my dive again, but the opportunity was lost, so went
+down after another one of the machines. For ten minutes this fight
+continued. Many times I would dive down, open fire, and then come up
+and turn away, at the same time avoiding others of our machines which
+were diving and firing as they came. At last I was successful. One of
+the Germans seemed to be enjoying the fight and had the impudence to
+loop directly under me. I happened to be diving just as he reached the
+top of the loop, and as he was coming out of it I got a direct shot on
+to the bottom of his machine, as it was turned upside-down. He fell out
+of control and crashed on the ground underneath us.
+
+Another machine had now joined the fight--a machine from one of our
+naval squadrons stationed in France--and he also was doing very
+well, as I saw a machine which he fired at fall out of control. Then
+suddenly, the remainder of the Germans--they had been reinforced by
+others--turned away and escaped, flying very near the ground. We
+returned home, and I waved to our new acquaintance from the naval
+squadron, so he followed me back to the aerodrome and landed beside me,
+to tell me that he had also seen my machine crash. It turned out that
+this man was the one who was leading the naval flyers and was next to
+me, at that time, in the number of machines which had been brought down
+by an Englishman then in France. It was his twenty-fifth machine.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+
+We were greatly excited now over the fact that in a few weeks we
+expected to have a new type of machine--a much faster and better one
+all round. It also had two guns instead of one, which made a great
+difference; so night and day we dreamt and thought of these new
+machines and the time we would have when they arrived.
+
+The next week was a quiet one, only a few Huns being seen, and the
+engagements we had were short ones, at long ranges. But on the evening
+of July 10th we had a most interesting time. The day had been very
+cloudy, and there had been no flying. In the afternoon two of us
+went off in a car to pick up some friends and bring them back to the
+aerodrome in the evening. This was the day that Rachel was first found
+and brought to be a member of our squadron. My flight was detailed
+for a job at 7 o’clock that evening; but when that time arrived, the
+clouds were so low we decided it would not be worth while going up, so
+all roamed down to the tennis-court. The weather became a bit clearer
+when we had finished three or four games of a set. It was part of a
+tournament we were playing, and quite an interesting game was on when
+suddenly a messenger came down with the news that six machines were
+to leave the ground. We all ran to our machines. We were still in our
+white flannels, and dressed more for comfort than a fight in the air.
+There was no time to change, however, so into the machines we crawled
+and started aloft. The Major, deciding there must be some excitement in
+the air, otherwise we would not have been sent out, decided to follow
+us.
+
+Twenty minutes after we had been told on the tennis-court that a job
+was on hand, we sighted some Huns flying slightly above us. It was
+now a wonderful evening, everything clear as crystal, and one could
+not but feel that such a thing as a German should not be allowed in
+the sky, to spoil the beauty of the dying day. So, regardless of
+position or tactics of any kind, I led straight into the German
+formation. They were evidently a new squadron on that part of the
+front. They were flying machines of a bright green--machines which
+I had never seen before. However, they were no more courageous than
+most of their comrades, and when they saw us coming, although they had
+every advantage, they turned to go the other way. We cut them off,
+and managed to come in partly underneath them. There were twelve of
+them and seven of us, counting the Major, who had followed us into
+the fight, and a merry mix-up began at once. Several times I became
+entirely separated from the rest, and was in a very dangerous position.
+Once, after chasing one of the Huns for a moment, I turned, to find
+another one coming down directly at me, so I pulled up my nose to fire
+straight at him. The same moment a third Hun came diving at me from
+the side. He had an excellent shot, and knowing I could not shoot at
+him at the moment, on he came. I felt I was certainly in a very tight
+corner, when suddenly, with a flash of silver above me and the rattle
+of a machine gun, I saw my Major’s machine go dead at the German. It
+was a wonderful sight. The Hun quickly turned away, and at the same
+time the other man who was attacking me turned also. I then lost sight
+of the Major, but continued in the whirlwind of the fight. Round and
+round each other the whole lot of us went, like a lot of sparrows in a
+great whirlwind. Suddenly one of the Germans appeared just in front of
+me, and I opened fire dead at him. Down he went out of control, and I
+turned to engage some more, but after a few minutes they all dived away.
+
+The people at home on the aerodrome were now having a most exciting
+time. A little over half an hour after the patrol had left the ground
+they saw a silver Nieuport come streaking home. It landed, and they
+could see by the number that it was the Major’s machine. They went up
+to him, and he quietly crawled out and spoke to the people around him,
+saying that there was a big fight on over the lines, and we were all
+in the middle of it. He then turned and walked to the office, where he
+telephoned to report that he had been in a fight. Then, sending for
+the medical orderly, informed him he had a “scratch.”
+
+The medical orderly almost fainted when he saw blood pouring down the
+Major’s sleeve. It turned out that when he had been diving to save
+me, a chance bullet from one of the Huns, who was sitting safely at
+the edge of the fight, had struck his machine, actually hitting the
+switch, where it exploded, one fragment of it entering his forearm and
+going right up above the elbow. It made a very nasty wound indeed. The
+bullet, as well as smashing the switch and his arm, had done other
+damage, destroying several instruments and breaking an oil-indicator.
+The moment he realized that he had been hit, the Major carefully set
+about with his other arm to turn off the oil and adjust the switch, so
+that it would work properly. It was a delicate job, and all the time he
+was bleeding freely. Then it was necessary to get clear of the fight.
+This, of course, is a difficult thing to do at the best of times, but
+in a case like the Major’s it would have seemed almost impossible.
+Luck, however, favoured him, for at just that moment a chance came,
+and he took it. He slipped away towards our lines and, losing height,
+came toward home. The next thing he feared was the fact that he might
+faint in the air from loss of blood, so, terrified of this, he held
+his arm over the side in the cold air, and that partially stopped the
+bleeding. He then came down and landed.
+
+As I have said, the people at home were having a most exciting time.
+The sudden leaving of the rest of us for a job over the lines had been
+quite a dramatic affair, and now, as they sat on the ground, first
+appeared one of the machines, back in half an hour, with its pilot
+wounded, then not a sign of the rest for what seemed a very long time.
+They wondered if we had all been shot down, or what in the world could
+have happened. However, in an hour and a half the rest of us were back.
+We had been looking carefully, in the hope that we would find some more
+of the enemy, but had only seen two of them, which we were unable to
+catch up with. We did not know what had happened to the Major until we
+landed, by which time he had gone to the hospital. Four days later we
+were all pleased to see him back on the job again, although, of course,
+unable to fly. He had been operated on, but to lie in bed in a hospital
+was agony for him, so, slipping away, he managed to get back to the
+aerodrome, where he stayed. A few weeks later, unfortunately for us, he
+was promoted to the rank of colonel, and left. The squadron felt very
+badly at his loss for some time, and only the fact that the man who
+took his place was also of the same calibre ever reconciled us to it at
+all.
+
+The Huns seemed now to be concentrating a lot of flying in the
+evenings. Every evening, when we went out, we were certain of a fight,
+and usually a long fight, sometimes lasting as long as half an hour,
+and on one occasion lasting for three-quarters of an hour. These fights
+were always referred to as “dog fights,” as it nearly always meant just
+dashing in, then out again and in again, and never really doing any
+harm, yet always in a terrible sort of mix-up.
+
+On July 12th I was successful in coming up behind some Huns and
+managed to get another one down--crashed. Then, for several days, I had
+no more luck, although combats were numerous. On one occasion I was
+nearly caught in a bad trap, when, on following a machine, I suddenly
+saw about twenty more trying to close in around me. I left off the
+chase, and got out just in time.
+
+Almost every evening we would find well-laid traps set for us, and it
+required careful manœuvring and tactics to avoid falling into them.
+Several times, indeed, we did, and it took a lot of trouble to get out
+safely. Four or five Huns would come along, and we would engage them;
+then, while having a “dog fight,” suddenly as many as fifteen to twenty
+more would appear from all angles and join in the fight. This thing
+happened every day, and the Huns were evidently out to get us. They
+were devoting every energy to it, and if the men in the air had been as
+determined as the people on the ground who ordered them to go out, we
+would have had a more difficult time of it.
+
+One evening, while out, I managed to surprise a Hun, and got within 15
+feet of his tail plane before I opened fire. Just a few shots, and he
+burst into flames, and fell. His companion did not stay, and managed to
+escape from me, diving vertically toward the ground. I shoved the nose
+of my machine down until it was pointing vertically as well, opening
+fire on him as the two of us dived; but his was a heavier machine than
+mine, and it fell faster, so he rapidly increased the distance between
+us, with the result that I was left behind. Coming out of my dive, I
+headed in a homeward direction. On the way, I saw a large “dog fight”
+going on, as many as twenty-five machines being engaged in it. I flew
+over to the mêlée as fast as I could reach it, afraid as usual that
+it would be over before I could get there; but luck was with me, as I
+managed to catch, on the edge of the fight, an enemy who was trying to
+attack one of our machines. He did not see me, and was flying straight
+away, so the shot was an easy one and could not be missed. I opened
+fire, and he fell out of control. Then, unable to watch him down, I
+went on to the other combats. Later, some of the other people reported
+they had seen him strike the earth, crash, and burst into flames; so
+there was not much doubt as to his fate.
+
+This “dog fight” lasted for twenty minutes after I had joined it.
+Several times the only intimation I had that anyone was firing on me
+would be the streaks of smoke as some bullets had passed near by.
+Sometimes the shooting would be so bad it would be over a hundred yards
+away; at other times within ten feet of me. But owing to the rapid way
+in which one manœuvres during such a fight, it was a very difficult
+thing to hit a man. The excitement of the fight, and the fact that
+it is necessary to watch all the time to avoid colliding with your
+friends, does not give one time to think of the danger of being hit,
+and, to tell the truth, you do not realize that these little streaks of
+smoke which go by you are really deadly bullets.
+
+The next day, while out, I tried to surprise three of the enemy, but
+failed, and found it necessary to engage the top one. I was slightly
+under him, and it was a difficult proposition. However, I managed to
+get as close as 50 yards and opened fire. The other two were now so
+near me that I felt it unhealthy to concentrate my attention altogether
+on one. For a few minutes, then, I had it rather warm. Every time one
+would begin to fire at me, I would switch the nose of my machine in
+his direction and fire a few bullets at random. This would make him
+turn away for a second. Then I would switch it to another. Suddenly
+an opportunity for escape presented itself. I took it as quickly as
+it came, and managed to get clean away. I then flew higher, and later
+found two more of the enemy, flying together. Again I decided to try
+a surprise, and this time was successful. Thirty yards away I got my
+sights well in line with a point on the enemy machine which would mean
+that I was going to hit the pilot, and I pulled the trigger. A moment
+later his machine side-slipped, turned completely over on its back, and
+then went down. Anxious to make it a double success, I turned to catch
+his comrade, but he had decided to escape, and was 300 yards away.
+I fired a few shots at him, just to hurry him up, and then turned
+to watch the machine I had brought down. It was still falling out of
+control, and away below me I saw it tumbling like a piece of paper
+thrown from a high window. Eventually it disappeared through the clouds.
+
+I did not have any feeling of compunction in cases like this. The
+idea of killing was, of course, always against my nature, but for two
+reasons I did not mind it: one, and the greater one, of course, being
+that it was another Hun down, and so much more good done in the war;
+secondly, it was paying back some of the debts I owed the Huns for
+robbing me of the best friends possible. Then, too, in the air one did
+not altogether feel the human side of it. As I have said before, it was
+not like killing a man so much as just bringing down a bird in sport.
+
+In going into a fight now, I felt none of those thrills which I used
+to feel at first. I was quite cool and collected, but probably did not
+enjoy it as much as I did in the days when a certain amount of anxiety
+and fear was felt just before the fight started. But the moment my
+machine gun commenced to fire, I felt the old feeling of exultation,
+and this always remained with me throughout the whole of every fight I
+have had.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+
+The new machines were almost ready now and at any time we were to use
+them, but in the meantime I was working hard with my Nieuport. One
+day at noon, while out alone, I came as near being brought down as
+it was possible to be. There were very few machines in the sky, and
+about a thousand feet above some clouds I saw three of the Huns. If I
+had followed my old tactics, I would have carefully gone far away and
+climbed to high above them, then come down from that direction; but I
+suppose “familiarity breeds contempt,” and I imagine I was getting a
+little careless. Anyway, I had not the patience this time to waste all
+of those minutes, so I climbed straight up at them. It meant that I was
+going much slower than I would otherwise have been, with the dive. They
+were out of a squadron--I could tell by their markings--that I had
+often before attacked, and probably before I had seen them they had
+seen me.
+
+They let me come on up underneath them, knowing that I would not fire
+until I was at very close range. Then, when I was about 100 yards away
+and some 100 feet below, the whole three of them turned on me. I did
+not even have time to attempt an escape; the whole three were diving
+at me at once, all firing. It was an awkward moment, so I pulled
+my machine back and fired straight at one of them; then, switching
+quickly, I gave a burst to another. By this time the third was down to
+my level, so, turning, I faced him and opened fire. He “zoomed” up and
+reached several hundred feet above me, from where he dived again. It
+was a terrible moment, and I could not think how to escape, as they had
+the most favourable positions from which to attack me, and no danger of
+anybody worrying them while they were doing it.
+
+Then suddenly I realized that the clouds were only a thousand feet
+below me, and even less by this time, as I had been losing height, so
+with a kick of my rudder I threw my machine suddenly out of control,
+and let it stay out of control until I was enveloped in a soft, white,
+fleecy cloud. Here I knew that it was hopeless to try to regain
+control, so I waited. I must have gone through the clouds for over
+a thousand feet--it seemed years and years. I was terrified that it
+might be a thick, thick cloud, all the way down to the ground. However,
+suddenly I saw things appearing, and underneath me was the ground. I
+was in a spinning nose-dive, but it was easy to recover control, and I
+flattened away and flew straight back to the aerodrome. It was a lesson
+to me, and, strange to say, the last occasion upon which I had a good
+opportunity to try that stunt, as a few days later we went on to the
+new machines.
+
+When our first job on the new machines came, it was a great moment for
+me. I felt that at last the time had arrived when I could really do
+some good work, so went after it with my heart altogether on it.
+
+On our first job we were told we must not cross the lines--only just
+stay on them, and chase anything away. You can imagine how pleased I
+was, after carefully getting up to the required height, and feeling
+this wonderful, new, high-powered machine under me, suddenly to see
+an enemy machine on our side. I gave chase, but it slipped across the
+lines when I was only half a mile away. I was very much annoyed to be
+unable to follow it.
+
+To get on these new machines, after the old ones, made one feel that
+all you had to do was to open fire on any old enemy at all--just get
+near enough to him to do that--and he was bound to be yours. As a
+matter of fact it was almost that easy, and the strenuous days of
+fighting that I had experienced on a Nieuport were really gone. The new
+job was much less of work and much more of pleasure.
+
+Then my disgust was great when the weather became bad, and stayed that
+way for three days. However, by this time I had been able to get my
+machine into better order, and was keener for a fight than I had ever
+been before.
+
+I went out alone as soon as the weather was fit, and after patrolling
+over the enemy territory for several hours I saw one two-seater at a
+tremendous height. I could not get quite up to him, but when a thousand
+feet underneath, I pulled my machine back until it pointed straight up,
+and fired that way. I did this twice, but both times failed to do any
+damage. We had then reached so far into enemy territory that I thought
+it advisable to return home, so turned and came back. The anti-aircraft
+fire seemed to be absolutely nothing to worry about, compared to what
+it had been in the slower machine. We were twenty-five miles an hour
+faster, and it made a great difference. The shells seemed all to burst
+behind me, and far away. I felt that all the risk had gone, and that I
+was now in for a real good time in France.
+
+On the 28th of the month I went out in the evening to do a patrol, just
+on the German side of the lines. Faithfully I stayed at this place for
+over an hour, but then it became more than I could stand, as there was
+not a German machine in sight. I decided to take a look in Hunland. I
+flew about fifteen miles in before I saw a single German, and then,
+well off to one side, there were three of them. I did not care whether
+they had seen me or not; all I wanted to do was to get right into the
+middle of them and mix it up, so I came straight at them. They had
+seen me, however, and one, detaching himself from the rest, came in my
+direction. He came straight at me, and we approached head on, both of
+us with our engines in front, and both firing two guns. I could see
+his bullets streaking by about 5 feet to the left of me, and mine, as
+I watched them through my sights, seemed to be making better shooting.
+He suddenly swerved, but I managed to get into a favourable position
+behind him in the course of one or two turns, and again opened fire.
+This time I was altogether successful, as his machine suddenly burst
+into flames. The others had kept well away, and were now escaping as
+fast as they could. I did my best to catch one up, and if we had only
+been a little higher would have done so, but I felt I was getting too
+close to the ground that distance behind the lines, so opening fire
+from long range, I shot away about 100 rounds, then turned and headed
+toward home. It was my first Hun shot down in this new type of machine,
+and the first in the squadron.
+
+Late one evening I went out again in a Nieuport, and got mixed up in a
+bad “dog fight.” It lasted for three-quarters of an hour, and during
+that whole time I don’t think fifteen seconds went by that I did not
+have to turn my machine sharply in one direction or another, or do some
+other manœuvre.
+
+While engaging a few machines at the top of the fight, I saw underneath
+me a Nieuport, evidently in difficulty in the middle of a lot of Huns,
+so with one other of my squadron I started down to him, fighting
+all the way and striving for nothing but to frighten the Huns off,
+in order that we could get there in time to help our man. He seemed
+to be fighting very well, as his machine was turning around to the
+left, banking vertically, and turning very quickly. At 12,000 feet we
+started this, but by the time we had reached him he was 500 feet from
+the ground. I had long ago wondered what was the matter, as he was
+going down almost as fast as we could come down to him. I could not
+understand why he did not see us, and in some way realize that if he
+stayed there a moment we would be down to help him; but instead his
+machine kept turning, doing a left-hand spiral, and going down rapidly.
+At 1,000 feet from him we managed to frighten away the two Huns, who
+were both engaging him. Then, turning to clear the fight, I looked over
+my shoulder to see if he was following; but no--he was still in the
+spiral. I was afraid, for the moment, that he thought I was another
+Hun, so went off to one side for a bit, but he continued spiralling,
+and realizing that something was very wrong, I flew back toward him.
+
+Just at that moment his machine spiralled straight into the ground,
+a few hundred feet underneath me. I made two or three turns over the
+spot, regardless of the fight above me, to determine whether or not
+he had been badly hurt, but could not see. I expected, every moment,
+some people to come running up and work at the smashed machine to get
+him out, but there was no sign of anybody moving. The other Nieuport
+that had come down with me was lower than I was, and the idea seemed
+to come to both of us, as the country appeared smooth enough, to land
+and see what was wrong. We both thought we were well this side of our
+own lines, as the trenches could be seen about three-quarters of a
+mile to the east of us. Picking out a smooth piece of ground just near
+the smashed machine, I came down to glide on to it. Then, hearing the
+crackle of rifles and machine guns around, I put my engine on again
+and turned away, cursing the people on the ground for firing at me,
+thinking all the time it was our own troops making a mistake. I had now
+come down to a height of several hundred feet, and suddenly saw German
+uniforms in a small hollow in the ground underneath me. It was a narrow
+escape, as both of us might have landed there and quietly been taken
+prisoners, without ever having a chance to escape.
+
+A few days later I learned that in this particular place the people
+holding the line were not in trenches, but in outposts, practically in
+the open field, and the line of trenches behind them was the Hindenburg
+line, where the Germans evidently intended retreating, when necessary.
+
+Almost every one of my fights in the new machine were successful. Three
+of us went out early one Sunday morning, when the sun, shining from
+the east on a thick ground-mist, made it very difficult to see. Clouds
+were also in the sky, making it impossible to go above 7,000 feet. Our
+new type of machines were evidently greatly feared by the Germans,
+as the moment we approached the lines, two two-seaters of the enemy,
+while just specks in the distance, were obviously signalled to from the
+ground, for they immediately dived straight down and did not return.
+This happened again fifteen minutes later, when we sighted another of
+the artillery machines. They were terrified of this type, and would not
+stay to fight us.
+
+Then suddenly I saw four enemy scouts, and at the same moment they saw
+us. They approached, obviously with the intention of attacking us,
+but when only 300 yards away recognized the machines we were flying,
+and turned away quickly. They had been looking for easier prey, and
+were not very anxious for battle. We went after them, though, and
+owing to our superior speed were able to catch up with them. Into the
+middle of them we went, and there followed a merry scrap. One of our
+trio, by some misfortune, got mixed up in a bad position, as he was
+not seen again, and must have been shot down. The other man’s guns had
+both jammed at the beginning of the fight, and he was so furious at
+this bad luck that for several minutes he stayed in the fight, just to
+bluff the Huns. Then one of them made it a little nasty for him, and
+it was necessary to escape. Back to the lines he went, making short
+dashes of 100 yards every now and then, two Huns following him all the
+way, and firing at him as he went, but owing to pure good flying and
+clever manœuvring he was able to avoid even having his machine hit.
+Then, on looking back from the lines, he saw the fight going on some
+distance over, and realizing that I was alone in the middle of it he
+came back all that way, without either of his guns in working order.
+I referred to this in an earlier part of my book, and I still think
+it one of the bravest deeds I have ever heard of, as he had a hard
+time getting back to me, and then also in escaping a second time. He
+returned to the aerodrome, landed, had his guns fixed, and immediately
+hastened out again in the hope he would be able to help me.
+
+[Illustration:
+
+                                            Canadian Official Photograph
+
+Remains of a Hun Two-seater, brought down in flames.]
+
+I, for my part, was having the time of my life. The rattle of my two
+machine guns was too much for the Huns, altogether. They did not like
+it at all. I was above the whole lot of them, the original four having
+been joined by three others now, and they were trying to separate
+enough so that one or two of their number could get to one side, then
+climb up and get on top of me. But the moment one of them would begin
+to go over to one side I would begin to climb, until I would point my
+nose in his direction, and, flying at wonderful speed, shoot across
+there, opening fire with rough aim, and down he would dive under the
+rest. This actually went on for fifteen minutes, during which time
+another of the enemy came along, and seeing only one British machine in
+all those Huns, felt safe in attacking me. I opened fire on him with my
+two guns, and the rattle of them again was sufficient. He did not even
+return the fire, but dived down and got under the other seven.
+
+After this had gone on about ten minutes, I realized that actually
+to bring them down I must do better shooting, so picking out the one
+which was higher than the rest, I concentrated on him and got within
+50 yards of him, when I opened fire. He immediately turned over on
+his back, righted himself, turned over on his back again, and then
+fell completely out of control. The others I was unable to get, but
+continued in the fight in the hope that I would be more successful.
+Out of the corner of my eye I could see a heavy thunderstorm coming up
+from the direction of the aerodrome. I had to keep my mind on this, as
+I realized that it was a matter of judging just how long I could keep
+up the fight before I must make a break for it. At last I decided I
+had better go, so after a final survey of my “docile children,” who
+seemed to be just sitting under my thumb, I picked out the two or three
+highest ones and pointed my nose in their direction, on which they
+dropped down obediently. Then, seizing the opportunity, I dashed away
+and escaped. They must have been very furious indeed and it must have
+been bad for the morale of the German infantrymen and gunners on the
+ground to look up and see one British machine on top of all these Huns,
+holding them absolutely under his dominion. I reached the aerodrome ten
+minutes before the thunderstorm broke.
+
+Bad weather then held again for over a week, and it was impossible to
+fly at all. The evening that it cleared up I was leading my patrol--all
+of us on the new machines--when I sighted eight of the enemy two miles
+the other side of the lines. It was just a half-hour before dark, and
+the light was very bad. I put my engine full on, and headed in their
+direction. My machine being slightly faster than the remainder of my
+patrol, I managed to get a bit ahead of them, and carefully picking
+out the leader of the enemy formation, opened on him. After I had fired
+about twenty rounds, he turned completely around and headed under me.
+I turned my sights on to another of his formation, and tried to catch
+him. Then, over my shoulder, I suddenly saw the machine I had first
+fired at burst into flames in a most extraordinary way. It happened
+quite near two of the rest of my patrol, and incidentally rather
+frightened them, as the machine, which had been smoking slightly,
+suddenly burst into the whitest flame and fell to the ground, like
+a ball of livid fire. The man had evidently not been killed, as the
+machine was not falling out of control, but diving almost vertically
+toward the ground. Several times, out of the corner of my eye, I
+glanced at it as it still fell. Probably it was the bad light that
+made the flames show so white, but the glare was seen for twenty miles
+around by people on the ground.
+
+I then made an acquaintance whom I grew to know quite well during the
+next week or so. It was a silver machine, with small black crosses on
+it. The pilot had carefully painted his machine, as the silver had been
+put on to represent the scales of a fish, and covered his planes as
+well as the body of his machine. During this fight he caused me a lot
+of worry. Several times I was just able to concentrate on one or two
+others, when this flying fish would butt in, and force me to a great
+deal of manœuvring to escape him. Over and over again, while under me,
+he would pull up his nose and open fire. I would then point my nose
+down and open back at him, and he would turn away. This was his one
+weakness--he would not come head on; so I tried that bluff whenever he
+began to fire at me.
+
+It was well that I knew this during the fights which followed in the
+next week. In the middle of this fight both of my guns suddenly jammed,
+and I could not get them to work. I struggled with them, all the time
+manœuvring around so that I would not be hit myself. One of the enemy,
+besides the silver man, had noticed that my guns would not fire, and
+the two of them came at me and came right up close on one occasion.
+Just as they did this I managed to get my guns to work, and opened
+fire, sending the second man down out of control. Old “Silversides,”
+however, had been too wily even to get near the range of my guns, and
+did nothing but cause me a lot of worry. It was getting dark now, and
+time to break off the fight, so I decided to escape. Once again the
+silver fellow came butting in. Every time I would turn toward the
+lines, he would come at me and open fire. I would dart across his
+sights, giving him a hard shot, then suddenly turn as if I were going
+to fire at him. He would turn the nose of his machine away immediately,
+and I would have a chance again to make a dart for the front. In this
+way I managed to reach the lines, where he left me. I then returned
+home, with two more machines to my credit.
+
+The next machine I got was the fortieth aeroplane I had brought down,
+and, counting my two balloons, my forty-second victory. I had gone
+out in the morning, about half-past eight, and there did not seem to
+be many aeroplanes in the sky. I saw a single-seater some distance in
+toward Germany, and went in after him. He was, however, no picnic. The
+pilot was one of the very best. Several times we almost got shots at
+each other, but never a good one. Finally, I opened fire at random, and
+was greatly surprised to see him go into a spinning dive, but it looked
+suspicious, and I watched. A little below me he regained control. I
+dived vertically after him, but was diving too fast, so shot right by
+him, and he turned away and tried to escape, diving in the opposite
+direction. I had a second dive after him, but he again went into a
+spin, even before I had opened fire, and continued spinning straight
+into the clouds, where I lost him. I had the comfort, however, of
+knowing that he was not very happy in that spin, as all the time he was
+going down I was rattling away at him with my guns.
+
+Fifteen minutes later I brought down that fortieth machine. I had seen
+a two-seater at a tremendous height above me, just a speck in the
+sky. I was not sure at the moment whether he was British or German,
+and decided, as there was nothing more interesting, to fly in his
+direction. He was about two miles our side of the lines, and I imagine
+now that he was busy taking photographs. When I was about a mile away
+he saw me, and headed for home. I was still 2,000 feet underneath him,
+and, owing to climbing, was not approaching very fast. However, he did
+the thing I wished for most of all--he put his nose down to lose height
+and gain more speed. I was much faster than he was, so I flew level. In
+a few minutes he had reached my level, and was still losing height. We
+were now four or five miles inside his own lines, and I was also losing
+height slightly to gain greater speed. Finally, I managed to get partly
+into the blind spot underneath his tail, and was rather amused at the
+observer firing away merrily all the time at me, even when he could
+hardly see me. I decided to stay there for a minute, in the hope that
+his gun would jam, or something of that sort happen. Then I proposed
+to dash in and finish him off at close range. But we travelled on
+another two miles without anything happening, and had now come down to
+6,000 feet. It was getting too low for my liking, and we were too far
+from home, so opening my machine full out I shot in to 75 yards from
+him, and fired. One burst did the trick, and he began falling in every
+conceivable sort of way. I rather hoped he would go into flames or
+fall to pieces, but nothing of that sort occurred, and finally, in a
+spinning nose-dive, he crashed into a field.
+
+Then I had one of the nastiest times of my life--the return trip home.
+At 6,000 feet I started. Every anti-aircraft gun in the neighbourhood
+opened fire at me, and they did some wonderful shooting that day.
+Everywhere I turned there seemed to be huge shells bursting. Several
+times I heard the little “plank” as they hit my machine in some place,
+and once quite a large piece struck a plane. I decided that I would
+lose still more height, in order to come home at a tremendous pace,
+but in my excitement had forgotten which way the wind was blowing, and
+have later decided that that was why I was such an easy mark. I was
+going straight into the teeth of a forty-mile gale, and consequently my
+speed was much slower than I thought it was. The “Archie” people seemed
+to have gone mad, or anxious to use up all the ammunition they had in
+France; anyway, the air was black with bursting shells, and after I had
+finally reached the lines I looked back, and for five miles could see
+a path of black smoke from the shells which had been fired at me. They
+must have fired 500 in all, but luckily I was still intact.
+
+One day, just at this time, I had truly a wonderful surprise. It had
+been a very rainy day, and as there was no flying I went over to lunch
+with a cousin of mine, who was stationed only three miles away. After
+luncheon I returned, and upon seeing my new squadron commander went up
+to speak to him. He told me that the General in command of the Flying
+Corps had been trying to get me on the telephone, and said he wanted
+to speak to me when I came in. I could not imagine why so important a
+person as the General should want to speak to little “me,” but rang
+him up. My cup of happiness overflowed when he told me that he wanted
+to be the first to congratulate me upon being awarded the Victoria
+Cross.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+
+I could hardly hold myself down after hearing the great news.
+
+Walking across the aerodrome to the squadron headquarters, which was
+stationed on the other side, I had tea with the men there and then came
+back. The next night we had a big celebration in the way of a dinner,
+and managed to collect guests who came quite big distances to be there.
+It was a wonderful success, lasting until after midnight, and several
+of our guests remained all night and returned early the next morning.
+
+I had a most exciting fight soon after this. The Germans seemed to know
+my machine, which I had had specially marked with red, white, and blue
+paint, and in nearly every fight I found that many attempts were made
+to trap me. Several times I had very narrow escapes in getting away,
+but always managed at the last moment to squeeze out of it.
+
+It was while flying just under the clouds, I suspected a trap, as the
+machine with which I was fighting did not seem particularly anxious
+to come to close quarters, so pulled my machine back and “zoomed” up
+through the clouds. The layer was very thin, and I suddenly emerged in
+the blue sky on the upper side, and just as I did so, I saw the last of
+a group of German scouts diving vertically. A little to one side there
+was a huge black burst of German high explosive. The whole thing was
+obvious to me at once. The pilot under the clouds had led me to this
+particular spot, while the people above had been signalled when to dive
+through to get me.
+
+My revenge was very sweet, because in the heat of the moment, not
+minding the odds, I dived after them. I came out to find them still
+diving in front of me, so being not far from one machine, and directly
+behind it, I opened fire with both guns. It did not need careful
+shooting; the man went down, never knowing he was hit, continuing his
+dive straight into the ground. I then pulled up and climbed back into
+the clouds, and over them, and got away without even a bullet-hole in
+my machine.
+
+That same afternoon I had several more fights, and ran up against my
+silver friend again. He was a most persistent rascal, although not very
+brave in actual fight, and would never leave me alone when I was trying
+to quit a combat. Several times he followed me right back over our own
+side of the lines, firing every chance he could get. But even when he
+was fairly certain my guns were not working, he would not come to close
+quarters, which, however, was probably lucky for me. He was not a good
+shot from long range, but the next day he managed to get underneath one
+of our machines and shot it about quite badly, causing it to return at
+once and land, seriously damaged.
+
+Several indecisive fights took place about this time, much on the same
+lines as many others I have described; each one as exciting as the
+others, but much the same story, both sides ending by breaking off the
+combats and returning. Several times we lost pilots, and also several
+times others of the squadron shot down enemy machines.
+
+The weather was very bad for some time after this, and although we
+prayed and prayed for just a few days to get a chance to fight, each
+morning would find us more restless and worked up because there did not
+seem to be a chance to get into the air at all.
+
+I was especially keen at this time to fly every moment that was
+possible, because I had learned a few days before that I would probably
+be returned to England shortly, for a job there of some sort. I was
+not at all keen on this, but being a soldier it was not, of course, my
+opinion that counted, and my work was simply to do as I was told, and
+to go where I was sent.
+
+One evening I fell into a very nasty trap indeed, just at dusk. I
+had suddenly seen a single machine of the enemy in front of me, and
+slightly below. It seemed too good to be true, and I should have known
+that there was something funny about it; however, down I went on top
+of him, but somehow missed with my first burst of fire. He dived away
+a bit and I kept on after him, but by continually diving he kept just
+out of my reach. This started at 10,000 feet down, and I finally found
+myself at 2,000 feet, and well in the enemy territory. Then, at last,
+I suspected a trap, and looked about to see what was likely to happen.
+Sure enough, from above enemy machines were coming down after me, so I
+turned toward my own lines. There in front of me were twelve more of
+the Huns. This left nothing to do but turn back and fly farther into
+enemy territory. This I did, losing height so as to increase my speed.
+Along I went, with the whole swarm behind. It was lucky for me that my
+machine was so much faster than theirs. I had to zigzag in my course
+until I was a least 400 yards in the lead of their first machine, then
+I flew straight. Dusk was coming on, and I was late and worried as to
+what to do.
+
+However, there was no advantage in giving in, so I went on as fast as I
+could tear. I was terrified that I would meet another patrol, but after
+I had gone about twenty miles straight east, I realized the chance
+for that was very slight, and this comforted me a great deal. But I
+was still worried as to how I was to get home, as I knew they would
+wait higher up for me if I climbed. As dusk settled down, I managed
+to shake off the pack and get completely out of their sight. Then I
+climbed steadily and turned back toward our own lines. It was light
+in the upper sky, but quite dark near the ground, and I was at least
+thirty miles over the German lines. I was never so mad in my life, the
+annoying part being that such a simple little trick had fooled me into
+getting into such a nasty position. I had to fly by compass in the
+approximate direction of home, and just as I reached the lines sighted
+a lighthouse which I knew, flashing in the dusk. I was happy then and
+able to land in the last five minutes of light. If I had been just that
+much later, it would have meant a bad crash landing, for I would have
+had no idea as to the exact spot where the aerodrome was; but luck was
+with me still, and I came down without even straining a wire of my
+machine.
+
+I was disgusted with myself, as it was a bad show, taken all around,
+and so mad that I would not hand in a report to tell the shameful tale
+on me.
+
+The day that I learned I was likely to return to England I went out
+in the evening, and in a very short space of time crammed in a lot
+of excitement. Flying around beneath the clouds, I had been unable
+for a time to find anything to fight. There was a complete layer of
+clouds all over the sky, and this made flying in enemy territory very
+difficult. The dark sky was such a good background the anti-aircraft
+guns could pick you out with great accuracy. I forgot about such
+troubles quickly when I saw several of the enemy some five miles on
+their side of the lines. Wanting to surprise them, I climbed up to the
+clouds and then through them. At first I went into what seemed a very
+sullen cloud, with dark grey and heavy mist all about me, the view
+being limited to a space of 10 feet. As I climbed higher up, the colour
+grew lighter and lighter until at last above me was nothing but blue
+sky and sunshine. The top of the clouds was as flat as a table. It
+looked as if one could land on it and sit there all day.
+
+I kept flying along, carefully watching my compass to get the correct
+direction, also gazing at the beautiful cloud-pictures around me,
+when suddenly, just above, I heard the old wicked rattle of a pair of
+machine guns. Pulling up, I looked about and saw coming down straight
+on me from in front, three enemy scouts. The leader, to my great joy,
+I recognized as the man who had trapped me so badly in the fight just
+told of. He was well ahead of the other two, who were trailing behind
+him, and I knew, if I could only shoot well, I would have a chance to
+get him without being worried by the others, until they could reach
+the fight. On we came, head on, both firing as fast as we could. I saw
+his smoking bullets going streaking by about 4 feet above my head, and
+what annoyed me a bit was the fact that they were passing that spot in
+a well-concentrated group, showing that he had his shooting well in
+hand and was quite cool. I have never fired with more care in my life.
+I took sight on the engine of his machine, knowing, if I hit it, some
+of the bullets would slide along its edge and get the pilot, who was
+just behind. On we came toward each other, at tremendous speed. I could
+see my bullets hitting his machine, and at the same instant his bullets
+scattered badly, so it was obvious he had become nervous and was not
+shooting as well as before. Suddenly he swerved, and tried to pass
+slightly to my left. I kept going straight at him, firing both guns.
+My bullets were all around the pilot’s seat by this time and seemed to
+be hitting him. The next machine had come in now, firing at me, and
+too near for me to turn after the first one, so I turned toward the
+second Hun. My third opponent did not like the look of the fight, and
+kept well off to one side, diving away to escape a few seconds later.
+I looked over my shoulder to see what was happening to the first man,
+and was overjoyed to see his machine, a mass of flames and smoke, just
+commencing to fall. The second man I manœuvred with, doing almost two
+complete turns before being able to get in the shot I wanted. Then
+there was no trouble at all. With the first round he also burst into
+flames, and fell, following the other through the clouds. I looked
+for the third man, who had just dived away, anxious to wipe out the
+whole crowd. I dived after him. Down through the clouds we plunged,
+and, emerging, I saw he was well out of my reach, so I turned to watch
+my two victims. They were both falling within a thousand feet of each
+other, two flaming masses, crashing in death to the earth.
+
+In a few days I was to go on another leave to England, so I put in
+every moment that I could in the air, trying to increase the number of
+machines to my credit. In this way, one evening, I came upon three,
+and managed to surprise them in the old way that I had done so often
+when I was flying a Nieuport. I dived on the rear and highest one, but
+found I did not have the patience to crawl up to my usual range. Two
+guns hardly made it necessary as before, so I opened fire at a little
+over 100 yards. As in the old days, there was no second stage to it at
+all--down he went completely out of control; and I stayed above, the
+other two having escaped, and watched him falling 8,000 feet.
+
+This was my forty-fifth victory, and the next day I had my forty-sixth
+and forty-seventh, in two fights shortly following one another.
+
+It was the evening before I was to leave for England, and, to my great
+disgust, I had been unable to catch sight of a single German. So I flew
+north to watch a Canadian attack at Lens. There was a great battle
+going on, and for fifteen minutes I watched it raging. Then, chancing
+to look up above me, I saw a two-seater of the enemy coming toward our
+lines. It really seemed to be just a godsend, so I went straight at him
+almost head on--that is, coming up slightly from below, but in front
+of him. I fired at him as I came, and as no result appeared, when I
+was 100 yards away, I dived and came up, pointing my nose straight up
+into the sky, as he flew across over me. Then I fired again. Suddenly
+the planes on one side of the Hun appeared to break and fall back, then
+to sweep away entirely, and the machine fell in fragments. It was not
+a nice sight. I had evidently hit the machine in a lucky place, which
+had caused it to break, but in all probability the occupants were still
+alive. However, it was not for me to pity them at that stage of the
+game, and I could not put them out of their misery, so I remained above
+and watched them fall.
+
+Two scouts had appeared just before I attacked this two-seater, but
+when I went toward them they had flown away. A minute later I saw
+them flying toward me. They did not want to fight, though, and turned
+away, heading in an easterly direction. The range was too far for me
+to open fire, so I chased them a bit, a distance of about two miles.
+They managed to keep 300 yards away, and as the wind was blowing
+me into Germany at the rate of sixty miles an hour, besides my own
+speed, I decided it was not worth while. Before leaving off the chase
+I thought I might as well send a few shots after them, as it might
+be my last chance to fight in France. I took very careful aim on the
+rear machine and opened fire. The Hun suddenly went into a spinning
+nose-dive and fell toward earth. I did not think for a moment I had
+hit him at that range, but watched to see just what game the German was
+playing. Down he went all the way from 13,000 feet to the ground, and
+crashed--a complete wreck. A lucky bullet must have hit the pilot and
+killed him instantly. It was indeed my last fight in France, and the
+next day I went to England on leave, and also to attend an investiture
+at Buckingham Palace, at which I was to receive the whole three of my
+decorations.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII
+
+
+When I left the aerodrome to start for England I had a vague feeling I
+would not be back again. I had heard nothing more about my transfer,
+but the very fact that there was a great deal of uncertainty made me
+anxious, and I remember, when leaving the old place, turning around
+to have a last look at it. I was lucky to find a car going all the
+way to Boulogne that day, and with four others, one of whom was going
+back to England for good, made the trip. On the way we stopped at a
+village where there was a famous farm for French police-dogs. We spent
+an interesting hour there, while the French lady who owned the dogs
+showed us all around her beautiful place. The dogs were of all ages,
+from two-weeks old puppies to full French champions. We left there just
+in time to reach Boulogne for luncheon--my last meal in France, as I
+managed to catch a boat for England at 2 o’clock.
+
+Eight o’clock that night saw me in London, and I was certainly glad
+to get there. At 9 o’clock I was in the middle of a big dinner, given
+by several of my friends, after which we went to a dance. It seemed
+years since I had been near London, and every sight and every sound was
+joyful to me. A few days later, though, I left town and went to the
+country.
+
+About this time word came through that I was not going back to France.
+I was very disappointed. I reported for duty, but was given a few
+weeks’ more leave in which to rest up. During this time I went to
+the investiture by the King. I had, on the previous day, received a
+telegram of instructions, telling me to report at Buckingham Palace
+at 10.30 in the morning dressed in service uniform. At 10.10 I was
+there, not wishing to be behind time on such an occasion, and realizing
+I had better find out before it happened just what was expected of
+me. Walking into the Palace I came to a hat-stand, where everybody
+was checking things. I handed in my hat, gloves, and stick, whereupon
+I was told to hang on to the gloves, wearing one on my left hand
+and carrying the other. Then, following a number of other officers,
+also there to be decorated, I came to a room in which a General was
+standing. I asked him where I was to go, and he asked me what I was
+getting. I began the long rigmarole of V.C., D.S.O., and M.C., but
+before I had finished he told me to go in with the D.S.O.s, as I was
+the only V.C. So I slipped away into a room where there were about 150
+other officers. After waiting there for over half an hour, another
+General came in, and gave us explicit instructions as to what to do in
+the King’s presence. It was a terrible moment for all of us.
+
+Finally, the doors opened and we were headed toward the room in which
+the King was standing with his staff. Following some Generals and
+Colonels, who were being admitted to the Order of St. Michael and St.
+George, it came my turn to march in. I knew my instructions well. Ten
+yards across to the middle of the room, and then a turn to the left and
+bow. Imagine my consternation, when, at the first of those ten paces,
+one of my boots began to squeak. Somehow or other I managed to get to
+the proper place, where I was facing His Majesty. Here I had to listen
+to an account of my own deeds, read by one of the staff, while I myself
+stood stiffly at attention. Then, approaching the King, he hooked three
+medals on my breast. These had been handed to him on a cushion. He
+congratulated me on winning them, and said it was the first time he had
+been able to give all three to any one person.
+
+After a short, one-sided conversation, in which my only attempt to
+speak failed utterly, although all I was trying to say was “Yes, sir,”
+he shook hands with me, and I bowed and backed away, turning and
+walking thirty squeaky paces to a door in the corner of the room. The
+moment I reached the outside of this door I thought I had been thrown
+into the arms of a highway robber. A man suddenly stepped from one
+side, and before I could stop him had snatched the three glittering
+medals off my chest, and was fifteen yards ahead of me on the way down
+the hall before I realized what had happened. I took after him, not
+knowing what to do, but he picked up three boxes from a table, put the
+medals in, and handed them back to me. Then he returned to meet the
+next man coming out, who incidentally was a great friend of mine and
+also in the Flying Corps. The next thing to be feared was the crowd at
+the Palace gates, and the photographers. Luckily, I had a car waiting
+in the enclosure, and thus managed to evade everybody.
+
+A week later I was promoted to the rank of Major, and also learned
+that I had been awarded a bar to my Distinguished Service Order
+ribbon. Good news, like bad luck, never comes singly. A few days after
+that I heard I had been granted permission to go home to Canada for
+a visit. The notice was short, but within eighteen hours I had made
+all arrangements, and was on a train to catch the boat sailing from
+Liverpool next day. Within two weeks I was home.
+
+
+THE END
+
+
+       _Printed in Great Britain by Hazell, Watson & Viney, Ld.,
+                        London and Aylesbury._
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber’s Notes
+
+
+Punctuation, hyphenation, and spelling were made consistent when a
+predominant preference was found in the original book; otherwise they
+were not changed.
+
+Simple typographical errors were corrected; unbalanced quotation
+marks were remedied when the change was obvious, and otherwise left
+unbalanced.
+
+Illustrations in this eBook have been positioned between paragraphs
+and outside quotations. In versions of this eBook that support
+hyperlinks, the page references in the List of Illustrations lead to
+the corresponding illustrations.
+
+Page 1: “Missisauga” was printed that way.
+
+
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75637 ***
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+<body>
+<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75637 ***</div>
+
+<div class="transnote section">
+<p class="center larger">Transcriber’s Note</p>
+
+<p>Larger versions of most illustrations may be seen by right-clicking them
+and selecting an option to view them separately, or by double-tapping and/or
+stretching them.</p>
+
+<p>The original book did not have a Table of Contents. The one below was
+generated automatically during the preparation of this eBook.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#Transcribers_Notes">Additional notes</a> will be found near the end of this ebook.</p>
+<p class="in0 in4 smaller vspace">
+
+<a href="#CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">CHAPTER XIII</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">CHAPTER XIV</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XV">CHAPTER XV</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">CHAPTER XVI</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">CHAPTER XVII</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">CHAPTER XVIII</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">CHAPTER XIX</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XX">CHAPTER XX</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXI">CHAPTER XXI</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXII">CHAPTER XXII</a>
+</p>
+<div>                                                                                                                                                                                                                           </div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="section p4">
+<figure id="i_cover" class="figcenter" style="max-width: 25em;">
+  <img src="images/coversmall.jpg" width="484" height="741" alt="">
+</figure>
+<div>                                                                                                                                                                                                                           </div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="section p4 b4">
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+<h1>WINGED WARFARE</h1>
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+<div>                                                                                                                                                                                                                           </div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="section p2">
+<figure id="i_1" class="figcenter" style="max-width: 25em;">
+  <img src="images/i_001.jpg" width="1855" height="2981" alt="">
+  <figcaption class="caption">Major W. A. Bishop, V.C., D.S.O., M.C.
+  </figcaption>
+</figure>
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+<div>                                                                                                                                                                                                                           </div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="section center vspace wspace">
+<p>
+<span class="smcap xxlarge bold">Winged Warfare</span><br>
+
+HUNTING THE HUNS IN THE AIR</p>
+
+<p class="p2"><span class="xsmall">BY</span><br>
+<span class="larger">MAJOR BISHOP, V.C., D.S.O., M.C.</span></p>
+
+<p class="p4"><span class="large">HODDER AND STOUGHTON</span><br>
+<span class="smaller">LONDON&nbsp; &nbsp; NEW YORK&nbsp; &nbsp; TORONTO<br>
+1918</span>
+</p>
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+<div>                                                                                                                                                                                                                           </div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="section center p4">
+<p class="small wspace">
+<i>Printed in Great Britain by Hazell, Watson &amp; Viney, Ld.,</i><br>
+<i>London and Aylesbury.</i>
+</p>
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+<div>                                                                                                                                                                                                                           </div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_1">1</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p class="in0"><span class="firstword">It</span> was the mud, I think, that made me take
+to flying. I had fully expected that going
+into battle would mean for me the saddle of
+a galloping charger, instead of the snug little
+cock-pit of a modern aeroplane. The mud,
+on a certain day in July 1915, changed my
+whole career in the war.</p>
+
+<p>We were in England. I had gone over
+as an officer of the Missisauga Horse, of
+Toronto, a cavalry detachment of the Second
+Canadian Division. It had rained for days
+in torrents, and there was still a drizzle
+coming down as I set out for a tour of the
+horse-lines.</p>
+
+<p>Ordinary mud is bad enough, when you
+have to make your home in it, but the particular
+brand of mud that infests a cavalry
+camp has a meanness all its own. Everything
+was dank, and slimy, and boggy. I had
+succeeded in getting myself mired to the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_2">2</span>
+knees when suddenly, from somewhere out
+of the storm, appeared a trim little aeroplane.</p>
+
+<p>It landed hesitatingly in a near-by field
+as if scorning to brush its wings against so
+sordid a landscape; then away again up
+into the clean grey mists.</p>
+
+<p>How long I stood there gazing into the distance
+I do not know, but when I turned to
+slog my way back through the mud my mind
+was made up. I knew there was only one
+place to be on such a day—up above the
+clouds and in the summer sunshine. I was
+going into the battle that way. I was going
+to meet the enemy in the air.</p>
+
+<p>I had never given much thought to being
+a soldier, even after my parents had sent me
+to the Royal Military College at Kingston,
+when I was seventeen years of age. I will
+say for my parents that they had not thought
+much of me as a professional soldier either.
+But they did think, for some reason or other,
+that a little military discipline at the Royal
+Military College would do me a lot of good—and
+I suppose it did.</p>
+
+<p>In any event, those three years at the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_3">3</span>
+R.M.C. stood me in good stead when the
+rush came in Canada, when everywhere,
+everybody was doing his best to get taken
+on in some capacity in order to get to the
+front quickly.</p>
+
+<p>We Canadians will never forget the thrill
+of those first days of the war, and then the
+terrible waiting before most of us could get
+to the other side. Our great fear was that
+the fighting would all be over before we
+could give a hand in it. How little we knew
+then of the glory that was to be Canada’s
+in the story of the Western Front, of the
+sacrifices that were to reach to nearly every
+fireside in the Dominion!</p>
+
+<p>For many months my bit seemed to consist
+of training, more training, delays and
+more delays. But at last we got over. We
+crossed in an old-time cattle-boat. Oh,
+what a trip! Fifteen days to reach England!
+We had 700 horses on board, and
+700 seasick horses are not the most congenial
+steamer company.</p>
+
+<p>We were very proud to be in England.
+We felt we were really in the war-zone, and
+soon would be in the fighting. But it is a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_4">4</span>
+great mistake to think that when you sail
+from America you are going to burst right
+up to the front and go over the top at day-break
+in the morning. The way to the war
+is long. There was more work and more
+training for us in England. At first we were
+sent to a very sandy camp on the coast, and
+from there to a very muddy camp somewhere
+else in the British Isles.</p>
+
+<p>It was to this camp that the aeroplane
+came that stormy day in July. A week later
+my plans were in motion. I met a friend
+in the Royal Flying Corps and confided in
+him my ambition to fly. He assured me it
+would be easy to arrange a transfer, and instructed
+me as to what I should do. If I
+wanted to get to the front quickly I would
+have to go as an observer, meaning that
+when I flew over the German lines I would
+be the “passenger” in a two-seated plane
+and would do just what my title indicated—observe.</p>
+
+<p>If one has a stomach for flying, it doesn’t
+take long to become a fairly competent
+observer. There are observer schools where
+they teach you just what to observe and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_5">5</span>
+what not to observe. This is not a joke.
+If an observer lets his gaze wander to too
+many non-essentials he cannot do the real
+observing that is expected of him.</p>
+
+<p>A few more days of cavalry mud and I
+was convinced that to be an observer in the
+air was better far than commanding a division
+on the ground. So I applied for my
+transfer, got it, and went to an observing
+school. I loved those first few flights in an
+old training “bus.” I don’t think she could
+make more than fifty miles an hour; and as
+for climbing, she struggled and shook and
+gasped like a freight train going up a mountain
+grade. But it was thrilling enough for
+me in those days, despite the fact that I
+soon began to envy the pilot who had all
+the fun of running the machine and could
+make it do a few lame and decrepit stunts.</p>
+
+<p>After a few months I was graduated as an
+observer and was awarded my first insignia
+of the Flying Corps—-an O, with one outstretched
+wing attached to it, to be worn
+on the left breast of the tunic. I was rather
+proud of that one wing, but more determined
+than ever to win the double wings of a full-fledged<span class="pagenum" id="Page_6">6</span>
+pilot, and some day have a machine
+of my own.</p>
+
+<p>In a very short time I was in France and
+ready for my first trip over the enemy lines.
+As I look back upon it now my life as an
+observer seems very tame. The work of
+the reconnaissance and artillery machines,
+as well as the photography and bombing
+planes, is very important. It goes on day
+and night, in good weather and bad, but
+all the times I was observing I wanted to
+be fighting. Whenever I saw one of the
+small, swift, single-seater machines, which
+were just coming into vogue then for fighting
+purposes, my resolves to become a
+fighting pilot would grow stronger and
+stronger.</p>
+
+<p>But far be it from me to detract one iota
+from the work of the observers. They take
+enormous risks and seldom get any of the
+glory. The men in the Corps recognize and
+appreciate the quality of their work, but the
+public at large rarely hears of them. The
+feats of the fighting planes form the spectacular
+and fascinating side of flying, but in
+a sense the daily drudgery of the bombers,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_7">7</span>
+the photographers, and the observers is of
+even greater value to the fighting men of
+the ground.</p>
+
+<p>It is no child’s play to circle above a German
+battery observing for half an hour or
+more, with your machine tossing about in
+air, tortured by exploding shells and black
+shrapnel puffballs coming nearer and nearer
+to you like the ever-extending finger-tips of
+some giant hand of death. But it is just a
+part of the never-ceasing war. In the air
+service this work is never done. Everywhere
+along the line the big guns wait daily for the
+wireless touch of aeroplanes to set them
+booming at targets carefully selected from
+a previous day of observation. Big shells
+cannot be wasted. The human effort involved
+in creating them and placing them
+beside the well-screened guns at the front
+is far too great for that.</p>
+
+<p>Every shell must be watched. It is a
+startling thing, but true. When we possess
+the high ground and the ridges, it is not
+always necessary for the aeroplanes or the
+balloons to do the observing; the artillery
+observing officers can go forward on the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_8">8</span>
+ground and from a convenient tree-top, a
+bit of trench, or a sheltering shell-hole see
+exactly what his guns are doing.</p>
+
+<p>Every day there are hundreds of photographs
+to be taken, so that the British
+map-makers can trace each detail of the
+German trench positions and can check any
+changes in the enemy zone. Information is
+to be gained at all times by all manner of
+reconnaissances—some of them carrying you
+fifty to sixty miles in the enemy country.
+Then, there is the fighting patrol work which
+goes on all hours. The patrol is not on our
+side of the line. It is far over the German
+lines to keep the enemy machines from coming
+too close even to their own front trenches.
+Of course they do slip over occasionally,
+but more than often have to pay for their
+temerity.</p>
+
+<p>The British infantryman—Mr. Tommy
+Atkins—takes it as a personal insult to have
+a Hun machine flying over him. It shouldn’t
+be done, he says, and he grouses about it for
+weeks. How different with the German
+infantryman! Our planes are on top of
+them most of the time. The Huns used to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_9">9</span>
+write wrathful letters home about it. Sometimes
+our infantry has captured these letters
+before they were posted, and they used
+to amuse us when we got them in the
+daily army reports. I remember one particularly
+peevish old Boche who wrote last
+May:</p>
+
+<p>“The air activity where we are is very
+great. The English will soon be taking the
+very caps off our heads.”</p>
+
+<p>It is great fun to fly very low along the
+German trenches and give them a burst of
+machine-gun bullets as a greeting in the
+morning, or a good-night salute in the evening.
+They don’t like it a bit. But we love
+it; we love to see the Kaiser’s proud Prussians
+running for cover like so many rats.</p>
+
+<p>Whatever your mission, whether it is
+to direct artillery fire, to photograph, to
+bomb an ammunition-dump or supply-train,
+or just to look old Fritz over and see in a
+general way what he is up to, your first
+journey into Hunland is a memorable event
+in your life. I may say here, in passing,
+that in the Flying Corps a German is seldom
+anything but a Hun, and the territory back<span class="pagenum" id="Page_10">10</span>
+of his lines is seldom anything but Hunland.
+Our general orders tell us to designate a Hun
+plane as an “enemy aircraft” in our reports,
+or “E.&nbsp;A.” for short, but, nevertheless,
+we always think of both the machine and
+the pilot as a Hun, and they will ever be.</p>
+
+<p>If it is artillery work you are on, you have
+learned to send down signals to your battery
+by means of a wireless buzzer, and you are
+equipped with intricate zone maps that
+enable you to pick out all manner of fixed
+objects in the enemy’s domain. You can
+locate his dugouts, his dumps, his lines of
+communication, his battery positions, his
+shelters behind the trees, and, in a general
+way, keep tab on his “ways that are dark,
+and tricks that are vain.”</p>
+
+<p>The day for your trip over happens to be
+one of wondrous sunshine and the clearest
+possible visibility. At every aerodrome behind
+the long British war-line the aeroplanes
+are out of their hangars, and are being tested
+with such a babel of noisy explosions that
+in moving about with a companion you
+have fairly to shout to make yourself heard.
+With your pilot you climb into the waiting<span class="pagenum" id="Page_11">11</span>
+two-seater. It has been groomed for the
+day and fussed over with as much care as a
+mother might bestow upon her only offspring
+starting for Sunday school.</p>
+
+<p>“Contact, sir?” questions a mechanic
+standing at the propeller.</p>
+
+<p>“Contact,” repeats the pilot.</p>
+
+<p>There is a click of the electric ignition
+switch, the propeller is given a sharp swing
+over, and the engine starts with a roar. Once
+or twice there is a cough, but pretty soon
+she is “hitting” just right on every one
+of her multiple cylinders. It is all the
+mechanics can do to hold her back. Then
+the pilot throttles down to a very quiet little
+purr and signals to the attendants to draw
+away the chocks from under the wheels.
+Slowly you move forward under your own
+“steam” and “taxi” across the field rather
+bumpily, to head her into the wind. This
+accomplished, the throttle is opened wide,
+you rush forward with increasing speed,
+you feel the tail of the machine leave the
+ground, and then you go leaping into space.</p>
+
+<p>You climb in great wide circles above the
+aerodrome, rig up the wireless, send a few<span class="pagenum" id="Page_12">12</span>
+test signals, get back the correct responses,
+and arrange your maps, while the pilot, with
+one eye on his instruments and the other
+on familiar landmarks, sets sail for the
+German lines, gaining height all the while.
+On the way to the lines you pass over your
+battery and send wireless word that you are
+ready to “carry on.” It is to be a day of
+“counter-battery” work, which means that
+some of our batteries are going to “do in”
+some of the Hun batteries. The modern
+guns of war are very temperamental and
+restless. They get tired of firing at infantry
+trenches and roads and things, and more
+often go to shooting at each other. In this
+you help them all you can.</p>
+
+<p>And now you come to make the acquaintance
+of “Archie,” who will pursue you
+through all your flying-days at the front.
+“Archie” is a presumptuous person and
+takes the liberty of speaking first.</p>
+
+<p>“Woof! Woof!” he barks out. Then—“Hiss-s-s.
+Bang! Bang!” Two flashes
+of crimson fire, and two swirling patches of
+black smoke jump out of the air a hundred
+yards or so in front of you.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_13">13</span></p>
+
+<p>The experienced pilot swerves a little
+neatly and avoids the next volley, which
+breaks far to your right. “Archie” keeps
+barking at you for quite a while and you
+seem to be leaving a perfect trail of the
+diffusing black smoke-balls in your wake.
+The pilot looks back at you and grins; he
+wonders if you have the “wind up”—army
+talk for being scared to death. It
+isn’t any disgrace to get the “wind up” at
+the war, and there are few of us who can
+truthfully say we haven’t had a queerish sort
+of feeling every now and then.</p>
+
+<p>“Archie,” of course, is an anti-aircraft
+cannon. How the airmen first happened to
+name him “Archibald” I do not know; it
+was when we got to know him better, and
+fear him less, that we began to call him
+“Archie.” With “Archie” it is the old
+story of familiarity breeding contempt, but
+of late the German “Archie” family has
+multiplied to such an extent as almost to
+make it dangerous to go visiting across the
+Hun lines. The German shrapnel shells are
+nearly always mixed with high-explosive.
+They are very noisy, but most of the time<span class="pagenum" id="Page_14">14</span>
+your engine is making such clatter the explosive
+efforts to wing you in flight go
+entirely unnoticed.</p>
+
+<p>Leaving the border-guarding “Archies”
+far behind, you fly on until you pick up the
+four mounds that indicate the German battery
+position. You fly rather low to get a
+good look at it. The Huns generally know
+what your coming means and they prepare
+to take cover. You return a little way toward
+your own lines and signal to your
+battery to fire. In a moment you see the
+flash of a big gun. Then nothing seems to
+happen for an eternity. As a matter of
+fact twenty to thirty seconds elapse and
+then fifty yards beyond the German battery
+you see a spurt of grey-black earth spring
+from the ground. You signal a correction
+of the range. The next shot goes fifty yards
+short. In artillery language you have
+“bracketed” your target. You again signal
+a correction, giving a range just in between
+the first two shots. The next shell that goes
+over explodes in a gunpit.</p>
+
+<p>“Good shooting,” you signal to the battery,
+“carry on”—particular battery is<span class="pagenum" id="Page_15">15</span>
+silenced for good and all. “Archie” tries
+for you again as you return across the lines,
+but his range-finding is very bad to-day.
+You salute your battery as you sail over,
+then land a few minutes later at the aerodrome
+well satisfied with your three hours’
+work.</p>
+
+<p>You have been to Hunland, and you feel
+your career in the air has really begun.</p>
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_16">16</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p class="in0"><span class="firstword">Altogether</span> I spent four months in France
+as an observer. How I longed during all
+that time for a fight in the air! But no real
+chances came, and, finally, I quitted my seat
+as a passenger without having fired a single
+combat shot from the tidy little machine-gun
+that was always near me and seemed
+to yearn as much as I did to have a go at
+the enemy.</p>
+
+<p>I injured my knee after an observing trip
+one day, when the pilot crashed the machine
+in landing; and while I did not have to go
+to hospital with it, it gradually grew worse
+until May 1916, when I had to lay up
+several months for repairs.</p>
+
+<p>My sick-leave over, I reported for duty
+again and got a real surprise—I was told I
+could learn to fly! This made me happier
+than I can express. I pictured myself in
+one of the swift little fighting planes I had<span class="pagenum" id="Page_17">17</span>
+seen in France, and I felt in my heart of
+hearts that I would make good. I already
+knew what it felt like to fly; I knew the
+language of the air, the esprit of the Corps,
+and some of the heart-palpitating peculiarities
+of our best-balanced engines. But all this
+time I had been a sort of innocent bystander.
+Now, at last, I was going into the
+air “on my own.”</p>
+
+<p>The first step was to go to a school of instruction—a
+ground school—where the theory
+of flying and the mechanical side of aviation
+are expounded to you. I went through
+these courses, and by special permission was
+allowed to take my examination three weeks
+earlier than would have been the case in the
+ordinary course of events. I worked like a
+Trojan, and passed without much difficulty.
+Then was to come the real part of it all, the
+part for which I had waited for over a year.</p>
+
+<p>On November 1st, 1916, I was sent to
+another school for elementary training in
+the air. This consisted, first of all, in going
+up in another old machine—a steady type
+called the Maurice Farman, and fitted with
+a dual set of controls, so that the instructor<span class="pagenum" id="Page_18">18</span>
+could manage one while I tried to manage
+the other. Never will I forget those days
+of dual control. I tried very hard, but
+seemed to me I just could not get the proper
+“feel” of the machine. First the instructor
+would tell me I was “ham-handed”—that
+I gripped the controls too tightly with
+every muscle tense. After that I would
+get what you might call timid-handed, and
+not hold the controls tightly enough. My
+instructor and I both suffered tortures.
+So when suddenly one day he told me I could
+go up alone, I had my doubts as to whether
+it was confidence or desperation that dictated
+his decision. I didn’t worry long as
+to which it was; I was willing to take the
+chance.</p>
+
+<p>Then followed my first solo! This is, I
+think, the greatest day in a flying man’s
+life. Certainly I did not stop talking about
+it for the next three weeks at least. I felt
+a great and tender pity for all the millions of
+people in the world who never have a chance
+to do a solo!</p>
+
+<p>An ambulance stood in the aerodrome,
+and it seemed to me, as it has to many another<span class="pagenum" id="Page_19">19</span>
+student-pilot, that all the other business
+of flying had suddenly ceased so that
+everybody could look at me. I noticed with
+a shiver that the ambulance had its engine
+running. Were the doctors at the hospital
+expectantly fondling their knives? Everybody
+looked cold-blooded and heartless.
+But I had to do it: so into the machine I
+crawled, trying to look cheerful, but feeling
+awful lonesome. How I got off the ground
+I do not know, but once in the air it was not
+nearly so bad—not much worse than the
+first time you started downhill on an old-fashioned
+bicycle.</p>
+
+<p>I wasn’t taking any liberties. I flew as
+straight ahead as I could, climbing steadily
+all the time. But at last I felt I had to
+turn, and I tried a very slow, gradual one,
+not wanting to bank either too steeply or
+too little. They told me afterwards I did
+some remarkable skidding on that turn,
+but I was blissfully ignorant of a little detail
+like that and went gaily on my way. I
+banked a little more on my next turn and
+didn’t skid so much.</p>
+
+<p>For a time I felt very much pleased with<span class="pagenum" id="Page_20">20</span>
+myself circling above the aerodrome, but
+suddenly an awful thought came to me.
+Somehow or other I had to get that machine
+down to the earth again. How blissful it
+would be if I could just keep on flying! At
+last, however, I screwed up all my courage,
+reached for the throttle, pushed it back,
+and the engine almost stopped. I knew the
+next thing to do was to put her nose down.
+So down it went at a steep angle. I felt it
+was too steep, so I pulled her nose up a bit,
+then put it down again, and in a series of
+steps I had been told carefully to carry
+out, descended toward the ground.</p>
+
+<p>About forty feet from the ground, however,
+I did everything I had been told to
+do when two feet from the ground. So I
+made a perfect landing—only forty feet too
+high. Eventually I realised this slight
+error, and down went her nose again. We
+rapidly got nearer the ground, and then I
+repeated my perfect landing—about eight feet
+up. This time I just sat and suffered, while
+the now thoroughly exasperated old machine,
+taking matters into its own hands, dropped
+with a “plonk” the intervening distance.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_21">21</span>
+There was no damage, because the training-machines
+are built for such work, and can
+stand all sorts of hard knocks.</p>
+
+<p>After doing my first solo, I progressed
+rather rapidly, and in a few days was passed
+on to a higher instruction squadron and
+began to fly more warlike machines. I
+found that to qualify as a pilot I had to pass
+certain tests in night flying. This awed me
+to a certain extent, but it also appealed to
+me, for just two months before the first
+Zeppelins had been brought down at night
+on English soil by our airmen. I was very
+anxious to get taken on for this work, and
+eventually succeeded.</p>
+
+<p>Night-flying is a fearsome thing—but
+tremendously interesting. Anyone who has
+ever been swimming at night will appreciate
+what I mean. All the familiar objects and
+landmarks, that seem so friendly by day,
+become weird and repellent monsters at
+night. It is simple enough to go up in the
+dark, and simple enough to sail away. But
+it is quite something else to come down
+again without taking off a chimney-pot or
+“strafing” a big oak tree. The landing<span class="pagenum" id="Page_22">22</span>
+tests are done with the help of flares on the
+ground. My first flight at night had most
+of the thrills of my first solo. I “taxied”
+out to what I thought a good place to takeoff
+from. The instructor shouted a few last
+words to me above the noise of the motor.
+I turned the machine to face down the long
+line of lights, opened out the engine, raced
+along the ground, then plunged up into utter
+blackness.</p>
+
+<p>I held the controls very carefully and kept
+my eyes glued on the instruments that
+gleamed brightly under little electric bulbs
+inside the machine. I could not see a thing
+around me; only the stars overhead. Underneath
+there was a great black void. After
+flying straightway for several minutes I
+summoned up courage enough to make a
+turn. I carefully and gradually rounded
+the corner, and then away off to one side I
+could see the flares on the ground. I completed
+a big circuit and shut off the engine
+preparatory to landing. Suddenly, in the
+midst of my descent, I realized I had misjudged
+it very badly, so quickly put the
+engine on again and proceeded to fly around<span class="pagenum" id="Page_23">23</span>
+a second time. Then I came down, and, to
+my intense surprise, made quite a good
+landing. This was only the beginning. I
+had to repeat the trick several times.</p>
+
+<p>On the final test I had to do a given
+height. I left the ground as before, and
+just as I did so could see the reflection of
+the flares on the tin roofs of our huts. It
+made a great impression upon me, as I
+climbed away into the darkness. Then my
+thoughts went to my engine and I realized
+it was as important as my own heart. I
+listened to its steady beat with an anxious
+ear. Once or twice there was a slight kick
+or hitch in its smooth rhythm. No matter
+how many cylinders you have whirring in
+front of you, the instant one misses your
+heart hears it even before your ears do.
+Several times my heart seemed to stop.
+The tension became very great as I toiled
+and struggled up through the night. The
+lack of anything upon which I could put my
+eyes outside the machine gave me a very
+queer feeling.</p>
+
+<p>One other machine was up at the same
+time, doing its test, and somehow, although<span class="pagenum" id="Page_24">24</span>
+the space in the air is very wide, I had a
+great fear that we might collide, so I gazed
+anxiously out into the darkness trying to
+see the little navigation lights we carried on
+our wings. It is hard to look into jet blackness,
+and the strain hurt my eyes, but I was
+afraid not to look for all I was worth. I
+continued to fly as much as I could in a
+dead straight line. Whenever I had to
+make a turn I made a very gradual one,
+hardly daring to bank, or tilt, my machine
+at all. It is funny, this feeling at night
+that you must not bank, and a most dangerous
+instinct to follow. The feeling that
+you are off an even keel upsets you, as you
+have no horizon or apparent ground below
+you to take your bearings by, and you have
+to go by the instruments, or tell from the
+“feel” of the machine itself, whether you
+are level or not.</p>
+
+<p>However, at the stage of learning I had
+reached I knew nothing of the real feel of
+a machine and was entirely dependent upon
+the instruments. This is not a very reassuring
+state of mind, so when the instruments
+at last indicated I had attained the required<span class="pagenum" id="Page_25">25</span>
+height, it was with a happy heart that I
+throttled back my engine to come down. I
+was afraid to shut it completely off for fear
+that it would get too cold to pick up when I
+put it on again. When you come down
+with your engine running it takes a much
+longer time to reach the ground. Every
+thousand feet or so, as I lost height, I would
+carefully try out the engine, and do a complete
+circuit. Underneath me I could see
+the little twinkling flares, and kept them in
+sight as much as possible on the downward
+journey to make certain of not losing myself.
+Finally, I reached the ground and
+made a careful landing.</p>
+
+<p>When I stepped out of the machine I had
+at last qualified as a pilot. I was sent to a
+home-defence squadron near the mouth of
+the Thames. I spent hours practising in the
+air both by day and by night. Several times
+we had flight manœuvres at night, and that
+was ticklish work. We would go up to patrol
+a certain area with lights showing on all the
+aerodromes in that section of the country,
+so that you could steer by them. I don’t
+know of many greater tests of a pilot’s skill<span class="pagenum" id="Page_26">26</span>
+than this flying in the dark, with a lot of
+machines about you in the air, their little
+navigation lights looking for all the world
+like so many moving stars. The cold of the
+higher altitudes at night is agonizingly intense.
+After half an hour or so in the
+frigid zone you get sort of numb and then
+for a long while the cold doesn’t seem to
+affect you any more. The real nasty part is
+when you have landed and begin to thaw out.
+It is really worse than the original freezing.</p>
+
+<p>In spite of the discomforts and the dangers
+of night-flying you could not fail to admire
+the great beauty of the scene below you when
+the lights were on and sparkling. These
+lights would mean nothing to a stranger,
+but to us in the air they were friendly
+beacons of safety and gave us a feeling of
+absolute security. On such nights the skies
+would seem full to overflowing with myriad
+stars. We finally became so accustomed
+to flying in the dark that nothing troubled
+us except ground mists or light fogs that
+would occasionally slip in from the sea,
+obliterate the lights, and make landing a
+difficult and perilous task.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_27">27</span></p>
+
+<p>My luck as a Zeppelin hunter was very
+poor. I used to dream occasionally about
+stalking the great monsters in the high thin
+air, pouring a drum of blazing bullets into
+them and gloating as they flared into flame.
+But no real Zeppelins ever came my way.
+The cold nights that we stood by on duty
+waiting for them were very long, but not
+without their compensations. There would
+be two of us at a given station. We would
+play cards, strum on some sort of instrument,
+read for an hour or so, play cards
+again, and all the while hoping for an alarm
+that would send us aloft in pursuit of a
+marauding gasbag from over the sea.</p>
+
+<p>Christmas Day we cooked our own turkey
+and the rest of the meal. Then, in a burst
+of Yuletide hospitality, we telephoned to
+a local hotel and told the manager to send
+anybody he wanted to out to the aerodrome
+for dinner. Alas for our ten-pound turkey!
+The guests from the hotel kept coming
+until there were actually twenty of them.
+However, in some miraculous way, we managed
+to feed the hungry score. Having
+partaken of our food, they did not tarry<span class="pagenum" id="Page_28">28</span>
+long. Night shut in early and once more
+we took up our wintry vigil.</p>
+
+<p>Toward the end of February word came
+through from the War Office one night that
+I was to go to France. I had become convinced
+that the winter would not offer
+much opportunity at Zeppelin hunting, and
+had applied several times for duty at the
+fighting front. Before I went, however,
+there was another course at a special school,
+where I learned to fly the smallest of our
+single-seater machines. Now, I felt, I had
+reached the height of my ambition at last;
+actually to fly one of these tiny, wasp-like
+fighting machines seemed to me the most
+wonderful thing in the world. A few days
+later, when I reported for my orders to cross
+the Channel it was with a gay heart, and a
+determination to reflect as much honour as
+I could upon the double wings on my left
+breast.</p>
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_29">29</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p class="in0"><span class="firstword">With</span> a dozen other flying men I landed at
+Boulogne on March 7th, 1917, for my second
+go at the war. At the Boulogne quay we
+separated, and I wish I could say that
+“some flew east and some flew west,” but
+as a matter of fact we didn’t fly at all. Instead,
+we meandered along over the slow
+French railroads for nearly two days before
+reaching our destinations.</p>
+
+<p>One other pilot and myself had been
+ordered to join a flying squadron on the
+southern sector of the British line. The
+squadron to which we were assigned had a
+great reputation, one of the best in all
+France, and we were very proud to become
+members of it. Captain Albert Ball, who
+was resting in England at the time, but who
+came back to France in the late spring and
+was killed within a few weeks, had brought
+down twenty-nine Hun machines as a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_30">30</span>
+member of “our” squadron. That was
+an inspiration in itself.</p>
+
+<p>The first day of my stay with the squadron
+there was no flying, and so I wandered about
+the field hangars looking at the machines.
+They were all of a type I had never seen
+before at close range—Nieuport Scouts,
+very small and, of course, with but a single
+seat. Being a French model, the Nieuport
+Scout is a beautiful creature. The distinctly
+British machines—and some of our newer
+ones are indeed marvels of the air—are
+built strictly for business, with no particular
+attention paid to the beauty of
+lines. The French, however, never overlook
+such things.</p>
+
+<p>The modern fighting scout—and to my
+mind the single-seater is the only real aeroplane
+for offensive work—may have the
+power of 200 horses throbbing in its wonderful
+engine. Some of the machines are very
+slender of waist and almost transparent of
+wing. Aeroplanes do not thrust their warlike
+nature upon the casual observer. One
+has to look twice before definitely locating
+the gun or guns attached so unobtrusively<span class="pagenum" id="Page_31">31</span>
+to the frame-work, and synchronized, where
+necessary, to shoot through the whirring
+propeller in front. Such guns are connected
+to the engine itself by means of cams, and
+are so arranged that they can fire only when
+the propeller reaches a given position, thus
+allowing the bullets to pass safely between
+the blades. It seems like a very delicate bit
+of timing, but the devices are extremely
+simple.</p>
+
+<p>The nacelle, or cock-pit, of the modern
+machine, I have heard people say, suggests
+to them the pilot-house of a palatial private
+yacht in miniature. They generally are
+finished in hard wood and there are polished
+nickel instruments all about you. They
+indicate height, speed, angle, revolutions,
+and almost everything an airman ought to
+know. There are ingenious sights for the
+guns and range-finders for bomb-dropping.
+When he is tucked away in the nacelle, a
+little well-like compartment, about as big
+around as an ordinary barrel, only the pilot’s
+head is visible above the freeboard of the
+body of the machine—the body being technically
+known as the fuselage. Directly in<span class="pagenum" id="Page_32">32</span>
+front of the pilot is a little glass wind-screen,
+a sort of half-moon effect.</p>
+
+<p>We newcomers at the squadron—the other
+pilot and myself—had to stand by the next
+day and watch the patrols leaving to do
+their work over the lines. It was thrilling
+even to us, accustomed as we were to ordinary
+flying, to see the trim little fighters take the
+air, one after the other, circle above the
+aerodrome, and then, dropping into a fixed
+formation, set their courses to the east.
+That night we listened with eager ears to
+the discussion of a fight in which a whole
+patrol had been engaged. We stay-at-homes
+had spent the day practice-flying in the new
+machines. There were three days more of
+this for me, and then, having passed some
+standard tests to show my familiarity with
+the Nieuport type, I was told the next
+morning I was to cross the lines for the first
+time as the master of my own machine.</p>
+
+<p>The squadron commander had been killed
+the day before I arrived from England, and
+the new one arrived the day after. It
+rather pleased and in a sense comforted me
+to know that the new commander was also<span class="pagenum" id="Page_33">33</span>
+going over in a single-seater for the first time
+when I did. He had been flying up to this
+time a two-seater machine which calls for
+entirely different tactics during a fight. Two-seater
+machines, as a rule, have guns that
+can be turned about in different positions.
+On the fighting scouts they generally are
+rigidly fixed. This means that it is necessary
+to aim the machine at anything you
+wish to fire at.</p>
+
+<p>The night before I was to “go over” I
+received my orders. I was to bring up the
+rear of a flight of six machines, and I assure
+you it was <em>some</em> task bringing up the rear
+of that formation. I had my hands full
+from the very start. It seemed to me my
+machine was slower than the rest, and as I
+wasn’t any too well acquainted with it, I
+had a great time trying to keep my proper
+place, and to keep the others from losing
+me. I was so busy at the task of keeping
+up that my impressions of outside things
+were rather vague. Every time the formation
+turned or did anything unexpected, it
+took me two or three minutes to get back
+in my proper place. But I got back every<span class="pagenum" id="Page_34">34</span>
+time as fast as I could. I felt safe when I
+was in the formation and scared when I was
+out of it, for I had been warned many times
+that it is a fatal mistake to get detached
+and become a straggler. And I had heard
+of the German “head-hunters,” too. They
+are German machines that fly very high
+and avoid combat with anything like an
+equal number, but are quick to pounce down
+upon a straggler, or an Allied machine that
+has been damaged and is bravely struggling
+to get home. Fine sportsmanship, that!</p>
+
+<p>The way I clung to my companions that
+day reminded me of some little child hanging
+to its mother’s skirts while crossing a
+crowded street. I remember I also felt like
+a child does when it is going up a dark pair
+of stairs, and is sure something is going to
+reach out of somewhere and grab it. I was
+so intent on the clinging part that I paid
+very little attention to anything else.</p>
+
+<p>We climbed to a height of more than two
+miles on our side of the lines, then crossed
+them. There were other formations of
+machines in the air, patrolling at various
+places. I could see them in the distance,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_35">35</span>
+but for the life of me I could not tell whether
+they were friendly or hostile. On the chance
+that they might be the latter, I clung closer
+than ever to my comrades. Then, a long
+way off, I was conscious that a fight was
+going on between a patrol of our machines
+and a Hun formation. I could make little
+of it all until finally I saw what seemed like
+a dark ball of smoke falling, and learned
+afterwards it was one of our own machines
+going down in flames, having been shot and
+set on fire by the enemy airmen.</p>
+
+<p>A few minutes after this my attention was
+attracted elsewhere. Our old friends the
+“Archies” were after us. It is no snug
+billet, this being in the rear of a formation
+when the “Archies” are giving a show.
+They always seem to aim at the leading
+machine, but come closer to hitting the one
+at the end of the procession. The first shot
+I heard fired was a terrific “bang” close
+to my ears. I felt the tail of my machine
+suddenly shoot up into the air, and I fell
+about 300 feet before I managed completely
+to recover control. That shot, strange to
+relate, was the closest I have ever had from<span class="pagenum" id="Page_36">36</span>
+anti-aircraft fire. The smoke from the exploding
+shell enveloped me. But close as
+it was, only one piece of the flying steel fragments
+hit my machine. Even that did no
+damage at all.</p>
+
+<p>After recovering control I looked about
+hastily for the rest of my formation, and
+discovered that by now they were at least
+half a mile away, and somewhat higher than
+I was. Terrified at being left alone, I put
+my engine on full and, by taking a short cut,
+managed to catch up with them. Much
+relieved, I fell in under the formation, feeling
+safe again, and not so alone in the world.</p>
+
+<p>We continued to patrol our beat, and I
+was keeping my place so well I began to look
+about a bit. After one of these gazing
+spells, I was startled to discover that the
+three leading machines of our formation were
+missing. Apparently they had disappeared
+into nothingness. I looked around hastily,
+and then discovered them underneath me,
+diving rapidly. I didn’t know just what
+they were diving at, but I dived, too. Long
+before I got down to them, however, they
+had been in a short engagement half a mile<span class="pagenum" id="Page_37">37</span>
+below me, and had succeeded in frightening
+off an enemy artillery machine which had
+been doing wireless observation work. It
+was a large white German two-seater, and
+I learned after we landed that it was a well-known
+machine and was commonly called
+“the flying pig.” Our patrol leader had
+to put up with a lot of teasing that night
+because he had attacked the “pig.” It
+seems that it worked every day on this part
+of the front, was very old, had a very bad
+pilot, and a very poor observer to protect
+him.</p>
+
+<p>It was a sort of point of honour in the
+squadron that the decrepit old “pig” should
+not actually be shot down. It was considered
+fair sport, however, to frighten it.
+Whenever our machines approached, the
+“pig” would begin a series of clumsy turns
+and ludicrous manœuvres, and would open
+a frightened fire from ridiculously long
+ranges. The observer was a very bad shot
+and never succeeded in hitting any of our
+machines, so attacking this particular German
+was always regarded more as a joke
+than a serious part of warfare. The idea<span class="pagenum" id="Page_38">38</span>
+was only to frighten the “pig,” but our
+patrol leader had made such a determined
+dash at him the first day we went over, that
+he never appeared again. For months the
+patrol leader was chided for playing such
+a nasty trick upon a harmless old man.</p>
+
+<p>During my dive after the three forward
+machines, I managed to lose them and the
+enemy machine as well. So I turned and
+went up again, where I found two of my
+companions. We flew around looking for
+the others, but could not find them, so continued
+the patrol until our time was up and
+then returned to the aerodrome. The missing
+ones arrived about the same time and
+reported they had had a great many fights,
+but no decisive ones.</p>
+
+<p>About this time the Germans were beginning
+in earnest their famous retreat from the
+country of the Somme. There had been
+days upon days of heavy fogs and flying had
+been impossible. A few machines went up
+from time to time, but could see nothing.
+The wily old Hun had counted upon these
+thick days to shield his well-laid plans, and
+made the most of them. Finally, there came<span class="pagenum" id="Page_39">39</span>
+a strong breeze from the south-west that
+swept the fog away and cleared the ground
+of all mist and haze. This was on that wonderfully
+clear March day just before the Germans
+evacuated Bapaume and left it a mass
+of ruins. We were early in the air, and had
+no sooner reached our proper height to cross
+the lines than we could see something extraordinary
+was happening behind the German
+trenches. From 15,000 feet we could see for
+miles and miles around. The ground was a
+beautiful green and brown, and slightly to
+the south we could see the shell-pitted battlefields
+of the Somme, each shell-hole with
+glistening water in it.</p>
+
+<p>A few miles to the east there were long
+streaks of white smoke. Soon we realized
+that the Germans had set fire to scores of
+villages behind their front. From where we
+flew we could see between fifty and sixty of
+them ablaze. The long smoke-plumes blowing
+away to the north-east made one of the
+most beautiful ground-pictures I have ever
+seen from an aeroplane, but at the same time
+I was enraged beyond words. It had affected
+every pilot in the patrol the same way. We<span class="pagenum" id="Page_40">40</span>
+flew up and down over this burning country
+for two hours hunting, and wishing for German
+machines to come up and fight, but
+none appeared. We returned at last to the
+aerodrome and told what we had seen during
+our patrol, but news of the fires had long
+since been reported by the airmen whose
+duty it is to look out for such things, and
+our General Staff at once had surmised the
+full import of what was happening.</p>
+
+<p>The next week was full of exciting adventures.
+For days the clouds hung at very
+low altitudes, seldom being higher than
+4,000 feet, and of course it was necessary for
+us to fly underneath them. At times during
+the famous retreat it was hard to tell just
+where the Germans were and where they
+were not. It was comparatively easy for
+the soldiers on the ground to keep in touch
+with the German rearguard by outpost fighting,
+but it was for us to keep tabs on the
+main bodies of troops. We would fly over
+a sector of country from east to west and
+mark down on our maps the points from
+which we were fired at. It was easy to
+know the Germans were at those particular<span class="pagenum" id="Page_41">41</span>
+points. This was very tense and exciting
+work, flying along very low and waiting
+each second to hear the rattle of machine
+guns or the crack of a shell. We were flaunting
+ourselves as much as possible over the
+German lines in order to draw their fire.</p>
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_42">42</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p class="in0"><span class="firstword">On</span> March 25th came my first real fight in
+the air, and, as luck would have it, my first
+victory. The German retreat was continuing.
+Four of us were detailed to invade the
+enemy country, to fly low over the trenches,
+and in general to see what the Boche troops
+were doing and where they were located.</p>
+
+<p>Those were very queer days. For a time
+it seemed that both armies—German and
+British alike—had simply dissolved. Skirmishes
+were the order of the day on the
+ground and in the air. The grim, fixed lines
+of battle had vanished for the time being,
+and the Germans were falling back to their
+famous Hindenburg positions.</p>
+
+<p>The clouds had been hanging low as usual,
+but after we had gotten well in advance of
+our old lines and into what had been so
+recently Hunland, the weather suddenly
+cleared. So we began to climb to more<span class="pagenum" id="Page_43">43</span>
+comfortable altitudes and finally reached
+about 9,000 feet. We flew about for a long
+while without seeing anything, and then
+from the corner of my eye I spied what I
+believed to be three enemy machines. They
+were some distance to the east of us, and
+evidently were on patrol duty to prevent
+any of our pilots or observers getting too
+near the rapidly changing German positions.
+The three strange machines approached us,
+but our leader continued to fly straight
+ahead without altering his course in the
+slightest degree. Soon there was no longer
+any doubt as to the identity of the three aircraft—they
+were Huns, with the big, distinguishing
+black iron crosses on their planes.
+They evidently were trying to surprise us,
+and we allowed them to approach, trying
+all the time to appear as if we had not seen
+them.</p>
+
+<p>Like nearly all other pilots who come face
+to face with a Hun in the air for the first
+time, I could hardly realize that these were
+real, live, hostile machines. I was fascinated
+by them and wanted to circle about
+and have a good look at them. The<span class="pagenum" id="Page_44">44</span>
+German Albatross machines are perfect
+beauties to look upon. Their swept-back
+planes give them more of a birdlike appearance
+than any other machines flying on the
+western front. Their splendid, graceful
+lines lend to them an effect of power and
+flying ability far beyond what they really
+possess. After your first few experiences
+with enemy machines at fairly close quarters
+you have very little trouble distinguishing
+them in the future. You learn to sense
+their presence, and to know their nationality
+long before you can make out the crosses
+on the planes.</p>
+
+<p>Finally, the three enemy machines got
+behind us, and we slowed down so that they
+would overtake us all the sooner. When
+they had approached to about 400 yards, we
+opened out our engines and turned. One
+of the other pilots, as well as myself, had
+never been in a fight before, and we were
+naturally slower to act than the other two.
+My first real impression of the engagement
+was that one of the enemy machines dived
+down, then suddenly came up again and began
+to shoot at one of our people from the rear.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_45">45</span></p>
+
+<p>I had a quick impulse and followed it. I
+flew straight at the attacking machine from
+a position where he could not see me and
+opened fire. My “tracer” bullets—bullets
+that show a spark and a thin little trail of
+smoke as they speed through the air—began
+at once to hit the enemy machine. A moment
+later the Hun turned over on his back and
+seemed to fall out of control. This was just
+at the time that the Germans were doing
+some of their famous falling stunts. Their
+machines seemed to be built to stand extraordinary
+strains in that respect. They would
+go spinning down from great heights, and just
+when you thought they were sure to crash,
+they would suddenly come under control,
+flatten out into correct flying position, and
+streak for the rear of their lines with every
+ounce of horse-power imprisoned in their
+engines.</p>
+
+<p>When my man fell from his upside-down
+position into a spinning nose-dive, I dived
+after him. Down he went for a full thousand
+feet and then regained control. I had
+forgotten caution and everything else in my
+wild and overwhelming desire to destroy this<span class="pagenum" id="Page_46">46</span>
+thing that for the time being represented all
+of Germany to me. I could not have been
+more than forty yards behind the Hun when
+he flattened out, and again I opened fire. It
+made my heart leap to see my smoking bullets
+hitting the machine just where the closely
+hooded pilot was sitting. Again the Hun
+went into a dive and shot away from me
+vertically toward the earth.</p>
+
+<p>Suspecting another ruse, and still unmindful
+of what might be happening to my companions
+in their set-to with the other Huns,
+I went into a wild dive after my particular
+opponent with my engine full on. With a
+machine capable of doing 110 to 120 miles
+an hour on the level, I must have attained
+180 to 200 miles in that wrathful plunge.
+Meteor-like as was my descent, however, the
+Hun seemed to be falling faster still and got
+farther and farther away from me. When
+I was still about 1,500 feet up, he crashed
+into the ground below me. For a long time
+I had heard pilots speaking of “crashing”
+enemy machines, but I never fully appreciated
+the full significance of “crashed”
+until now. There is no other word for it.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_47">47</span></p>
+
+<p>I have not to this day fully analysed my
+feelings in those moments of my first victory.
+I don’t think I fully realized what it all
+meant. When I pulled my machine out of
+its own somewhat dangerous dive, I suddenly
+became conscious of the fact that I had not
+the slightest idea in the world where I was.
+I had lost all sense of direction and distance;
+nothing had mattered to me except the
+shooting down of that enemy scout with the
+big black crosses that I shall never forget.
+Now I began to fear that I was well within
+the enemy country and that it was up to me
+to find some way of getting home. Then, to
+my dismay, I discovered that during our
+long dive my engine had filled up with
+lubricating oil and had stopped dead still.
+I tried every little trick I knew to coax a
+fresh start, but it was no use. I had no
+choice. I must land in the country directly
+beneath me, be it hostile or friendly. I
+turned in what seemed to me by instinct to
+be the way toward our own lines, and glided
+as far as I could without any help from the
+engine.</p>
+
+<p>I saw beneath me a destroyed village, and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_48">48</span>
+my heart sank. I must be behind the German
+lines. Was my real flying career, just
+begun, to be ended so soon? Was I to suffer
+the fate the flying man most abhors—the
+helpless descent in Hunland and the meek
+submission to being taken prisoner? A
+hundred thoughts were racing through my
+head, but in a moment they were dispersed.
+It was that always ghastly rattle of a machine
+gun, firing at me from the ground. This
+left no doubt but that I was over enemy
+territory. I continued to glide, listlessly,
+toward the ground, not caring much now
+what the machine gun might do. My
+plight couldn’t be much worse. I was convinced,
+in fact, that it couldn’t possibly be
+worse. Mechanically, little realizing just
+what I was doing, but all the time following
+that first great instinct of self-preservation,
+I remember carefully picking out a clear
+path in the rough terrain beneath me, and
+making a last turn, I glided into it and
+landed.</p>
+
+<figure id="i_55" class="figcenter" style="max-width: 47em;">
+  <img src="images/i_055.jpg" width="2978" height="1871" alt="">
+  <figcaption class="caption">
+
+<p class="right">
+Canadian Official Photograph
+</p>
+
+<p>Pilot’s Seat of Nieuport Scout.</p>
+  </figcaption>
+</figure>
+
+<p>Some hostile spirit within me made me
+seize the rocket pistol we used to fire signals
+with in the air—“Very” lights, they are<span class="pagenum" id="Page_49">49</span>
+called. What I expected to do with such
+an impotent weapon of offence or defence, I
+don’t know, but it gave me a sort of armed
+feeling as I jumped out of the machine. I
+ran to a near-by ditch, following the irresistible
+battlefield impulse to “take cover.”
+I lay for some time in the ditch waiting—waiting
+for my fate, whatever it was to be.
+Then I saw some people crawling toward
+me. They were anxious moments, and I
+had to rub my eyes two or three times before
+finally convincing myself that the oncoming
+uniforms were of muddy-brown and homely,
+if you will, but to me that day, khaki was
+the most wonderful, the most inspiring, the
+most soul-satisfying colour scheme ever beheld
+by the eyes of man. In an instant my
+whole life-outlook changed; literally it
+seemed to me that by some miracle I had
+come back from the land of the “missing.”</p>
+
+<p>The British “Tommies” had seen me
+land and had bravely crawled out to help
+me. They told me I had just barely crossed
+over into our own country; the last 150
+yards of my glide had landed me clear of
+the Germans. The soldiers also said we had<span class="pagenum" id="Page_50">50</span>
+better try to move the machine, as the Germans
+could see it from the hill opposite and
+would be sure to shell it in a very little while.</p>
+
+<p>With the help of several other men from
+a field artillery battery we hauled the
+machine into a little valley just before the
+German shells began to arrive. One dropped
+with a noisy bang some 200 yards away
+from us, and I fell flat on my stomach. I
+hadn’t seen much land fighting up to this
+time, but I had been told that that was the
+proper thing to do. The Tommies, however,
+looked at me with amazement. The idea of
+anybody dropping for a shell 200 yards
+away! They told me there was nothing to
+worry about for the moment, and added,
+cheerfully, that in a few minutes the Huns
+would be doing a little better shooting.</p>
+
+<p>But I had my own back with the Tommies
+sooner than I could ever have hoped for.
+This time a shell landed about twenty yards
+from us, and down went everybody but me.
+I stood up—out of sheer ignorance! I didn’t
+know by the sound of the shell how close it
+was going to land, but the others did and
+acted accordingly. The joke of the whole<span class="pagenum" id="Page_51">51</span>
+thing was that the shell was a “dud.” It
+didn’t explode, and I had the laugh on the
+wise artillerymen.</p>
+
+<p>Eventually we got the machine behind a
+clump of trees where the Germans couldn’t
+see it, and they decided to waste no more
+ammunition hunting us out. Although it
+was already 6 o’clock in the evening, I
+started to work on the engine, but after an
+hour and a half had not succeeded in getting
+a single cough out of any one of the many
+cylinders. So I decided to let matters rest
+and accept a very cordial invitation to spend
+the night with a battery near by.</p>
+
+<p>It would have been a very interesting
+night indeed if I could have had some real
+place to sleep, or if I had not been wearing
+loose, heavy flying-clothes, with fleece-lined
+boots up to my hips, or if it had not commenced
+to rain about 9 o’clock, or if in the
+middle of the night a heavy artillery battle
+had not started. But in spite of the discomfort
+and the drizzle it was all very interesting
+and exciting, and seemed to me a
+sort of fitting sequel to my wonderful first
+day of combat in the air.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_52">52</span></p>
+
+<p>The next day it continued to rain, and as
+I received no word from my squadron in
+answer to several telegrams, I borrowed
+some tools from the gunners and again got
+to work on my choked-up engines. Within
+a few hours she was running beautifully.
+Now the problem was to find a place from
+which to fly off. The ground was rough and
+very muddy, but I decided to try to “taxi”
+over it. We had not bumped very far alone,
+however, the machine and I, when a big
+piece of mud flew up and split the propeller.
+That ended it. There was nothing to do but
+wait for help to come from the squadron.
+It came the next afternoon, after I had spent
+a terrible night trying to get to the squadron,
+and rescue parties from the squadron had
+spent an equally terrible night trying to get
+to me. I had landed at a point which had
+been well behind the German lines a few days
+ago, where the roads had been mined and
+blocked in all manner of ways, and where
+the German spirit of wanton destruction had
+held high carnival. I had even tried to get
+through in a Ford, but it was no use.</p>
+
+<p>It was about 3 o’clock the second afternoon<span class="pagenum" id="Page_53">53</span>
+after I landed that one of the rescue
+parties arrived. They had travelled about
+90 miles to get to me, although the aerodrome
+was only 15 miles away. By the
+third afternoon we had succeeded in taking
+my machine to pieces, and having safely
+loaded it into a motor lorry, began our return
+journey about 7 o’clock in the evening. We
+arrived at the aerodrome at 6.30 the next
+morning. I slept part of the way, but
+never was so worn out and tired in all my
+life, for many times during the night it was
+necessary to get out and help our car out
+of the mud. Finally, when about six miles
+from the aerodrome, we went into a mud-hole
+and stuck. It was absolutely impossible
+to move in any direction, so with one
+of the men I set out afoot to an aerodrome
+about three miles away. There I pulled
+some sleepy mechanics out of bed and got
+them to drive me to my own aerodrome a
+little farther along.</p>
+
+<p>Now for the first time I learned exactly
+what had happened in the fight on the 25th.
+The patrol leader had also destroyed one of
+the enemy machines, while the third Hun<span class="pagenum" id="Page_54">54</span>
+had escaped. All of us were perfectly safe
+and none of our machines damaged except
+my own, which showed a few tears from shell
+fragments.</p>
+
+<p>It seemed to me it had been ages since the
+fight. But at last I was back among my
+companions—and I had the large total of one
+machine to my credit. There were fellows
+in the squadron who did not have any,
+however, and I was very proud—so proud
+and excited over the whole episode that,
+despite my intense weariness, I couldn’t go
+to sleep until late in the afternoon.</p>
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_55">55</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p class="in0"><span class="firstword">The</span> fates had been so kind to me in my first
+fight in the air, that the next time I crossed
+the lines my squadron commander had designated
+me as patrol leader. I knew this
+was a difficult job, but it was not until after
+we started out that I knew <em>how</em> difficult.
+First of all, I seemed to be leading too fast;
+then the pace would become too slow. Some
+of the machines seemed too close to me,
+and some too far away. I wondered why
+it was that everyone should be flying so
+badly to-day except myself. As a matter
+of fact, if I had been leading properly, the
+other machines would have found it quite
+easy to keep in their assigned places.</p>
+
+<p>However, one learns by experience, so at
+the end of two hours I was leading much
+better, and had progressed another step in
+the school of war-flying. The clouds were
+very thick this day and rolled under us at<span class="pagenum" id="Page_56">56</span>
+times in great cumulus masses. We caught
+only occasional glimpses of the ground
+through rifts in the clouds a mile or more
+apart. It was necessary to watch very
+closely through these holes and to recognize
+familiar places on the ground, otherwise we
+were likely to get lost and never see home
+again. When our two hours’ tour of duty
+aloft was ended, though, we landed safely at
+the aerodrome without having seen any
+enemy machines.</p>
+
+<p>Two days later my patrol engaged in one
+of the bitterest fights I have ever known.
+I knew that night the full meaning of that
+last line so often seen in the British official
+communiqué: “One of our machines did
+not return.” A second machine barely
+reached our lines, with the pilot so badly
+wounded he lived but a little while.</p>
+
+<p>The patrol consisted of a flight of six
+machines. I led my companions up to
+12,000 feet before heading across the trenches
+just south of Arras. Once over the lines, we
+turned to the north, not penetrating very
+far into Hunland because of the strong wind
+that was blowing about fifty miles an hour<span class="pagenum" id="Page_57">57</span>
+from the west. These westerly gales were
+one of the worst things we had to contend
+with at the front. They made it very easy
+for us to dash into enemy territory, but it
+was a very different story when we started
+for home and had to combat the tempest.
+If an airman ever wishes for a favouring wind,
+it is when he is streaking for home.</p>
+
+<p>Seeing the modern war-aeroplanes riding
+through howling storms reminds one that
+it was not so long ago that a ten-mile breeze
+would upset all flying-plans for a day at any
+aerodrome or exhibition field. Now nothing
+short of a hurricane can keep the machines
+on the ground. As far as the ability to make
+good weather of it is concerned, the airman
+of to-day can laugh at a gale and fairly take
+a nap sitting on a forty-mile wind.</p>
+
+<p>We had been over the lines twenty minutes,
+and were tossing about a bit in the
+storm, when I sighted an enemy machine
+flying about half a mile below me. He was
+scudding gracefully along just over the top
+of a layer of filmy white clouds. I signalled
+to the remainder of my patrol that I had
+sighted an enemy, and in another instant I<span class="pagenum" id="Page_58">58</span>
+was diving after him. As I sped downward
+I could see the remainder of the patrol
+coming after me. I must have been plunging
+fully 150 miles an hour at the German with
+the black crosses on his wings, when suddenly
+out of the clouds, and seemingly right
+under my nose, a second enemy machine
+appeared. I realized now that we were in
+for serious fighting, that we had run into an
+ambuscade, for it was a great trick of the
+Germans at this time to lurk behind patches
+of clouds to obtain the advantage of a
+surprise attack. We soon taught them,
+however, that this was a game at which
+two could play.</p>
+
+<p>When the second machine loomed so suddenly
+from his hiding-place, I naturally transferred
+my attention to him. I closed to
+within 150 yards and then opened fire from
+directly behind. Nothing happened, however,
+for all my bullets seemed to be going
+far wide of their mark. I was frankly surprised
+at this and wondered what had
+happened to the marksmanship which had
+stood me in such good stead in my first fight.
+As a result of these thoughts I neglected to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_59">59</span>
+look behind me to see if the other machines
+of the patrol were following, and my first
+intimation that anything was wrong was
+the sound of machine guns firing from somewhere
+in the rear. I was about to turn my
+head to see if it was one of the patrol firing,
+when some flaming German bullets shot
+past between my left-hand planes. Then I
+realized that a third enemy machine had
+gotten on my tail and had a dead shot at
+me. There was but one way to get out of
+this, and I tried it. I pulled my machine
+right up into the air and turned over backward
+in a partial loop. As I did so the
+enemy machine flashed by underneath.</p>
+
+<p>It was a narrow escape, but it gave me a
+breathing-spell in which to look around for
+the remainder of my patrol. They were nowhere
+to be seen. Later I learned that when
+they were coming down to me, more enemy
+machines had popped out of the clouds, and
+there had been a sort of general mêlée. The
+machine which got on my tail seemed to
+have dropped out of the clear sky above.
+In all, it turned out, there were about ten of
+the enemy to six of us.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_60">60</span></p>
+
+<p>It was my luck to be mixed up single-handed
+with three of the Huns. Under the
+circumstances, wisdom seemed to me the
+better part of valour, and I climbed as
+speedily as I could, eventually managing to
+get clear of their range. Then, looking
+around, I saw a fight going on about a mile
+farther east. It was a matter of thirty
+seconds to fly into this, and there I found two
+of my machines in a go at four or five of
+the enemy. We fought for fifteen minutes
+or more without either side gaining an advantage.
+During all this time, however,
+we were steadily being driven by the gale
+farther and farther into German territory,
+and were rapidly losing height as well. We
+figured at this time we must be fully fifteen
+miles behind the Hun lines.</p>
+
+<p>We had circled and dived and fought our
+way down to about 4,000 feet when suddenly
+about half a mile away I saw one of
+our patrol fighting for his life with two of
+the enemy. I broke off the futile engagement
+we were in and flew to the lone pilot’s
+assistance. The other two of my pilots also
+broke away from the Germans and followed<span class="pagenum" id="Page_61">61</span>
+me as I headed over to help him. At the
+same moment he succeeded in escaping from
+the two attacking Huns, and we joined up
+again in a formation of four machines. At
+this time we were as low as 2,500 feet, but
+by careful flying and using the clouds to
+hide in, we managed to evade all the enemy
+flyers who came swirling after us.</p>
+
+<p>The moment we headed for home, however,
+all the “Archies” in the neighbourhood
+opened fire on us. We were flying straight
+into the teeth of the fifty-mile gale and were
+making very little headway against it. This
+slow pace made us an easy mark for the
+guns, and meant that we had to do a lot
+of dodging. We darted from one cloud
+to another, using them as much as possible
+for protection. It was again the old
+instinct of “taking cover” or “digging
+in.”</p>
+
+<p>Reaching the aerodrome, we were very
+much crestfallen. The battle had not been
+a success, and two of our patrol, two of our
+most intimate friends, had not returned.
+Later that night, about 11 o’clock, we had
+word that one of the missing machines had<span class="pagenum" id="Page_62">62</span>
+landed on our side of the lines with the pilot
+badly wounded. Next morning we heard
+the particulars of a wonderful piece of work
+done by this gallant boy. He was only
+eighteen, and had been in France but three
+weeks. The British Flying Corps is filled
+with boys of that age—with spirits of daring
+beyond all compare, and courage so self-effacing
+as to be a continual inspiration to
+their older brothers in the service.</p>
+
+<p>In the early part of the fight this boy
+had been hit by an explosive bullet, which,
+entering him from behind, had pierced his
+stomach and exploded there. His machine
+had been pretty badly shot about, the engine
+damaged, and, therefore, a great resulting
+loss in efficiency. Mortally wounded as he
+was, however, he fought for ten or fifteen
+minutes with his opponents and then succeeded
+in escaping. Dazed from pain and
+loss of blood, he flew vaguely in a westerly
+direction. He had no idea where he was,
+but when the anti-aircraft guns ceased to
+fire, he glided down and landed in a field.
+Stepping out of his machine, he attempted
+to walk, but had moved scarcely forty steps<span class="pagenum" id="Page_63">63</span>
+when he fell in a faint. He was hurried to
+hospital and given the tenderest of care,
+but next morning he died, leaving behind
+a brave record for his brief career in the
+flying service.</p>
+
+<p>The pilot who did not return was reported
+missing for about two months, and
+then we heard he had been killed outright,
+shot dead in the air. Upon looking back
+on this fight now, in the light of my later
+experience, I wonder that any of us got out
+of it alive. Every circumstance was against
+us, and the formation we ran into was made
+up of the best Hun pilots then in the air.
+They fought under as favourable conditions
+as they could have wished, and one can
+only wonder how they missed completely
+wiping us out.</p>
+
+<p>Next day there were only four of us left
+in my patrol, but we were assigned to escort
+and protect six other machines that were
+going over to get photographs of some German
+positions about ten miles behind the
+front-line trenches. I had my patrol flying
+about a thousand feet above the photography
+machines when I saw six enemy single-seater<span class="pagenum" id="Page_64">64</span>
+scouts climbing to swoop down upon
+our photography machines. At the same
+time there were two other enemy machines
+coming from above to engage us.</p>
+
+<p>Diving toward the photography machines,
+I managed to frighten off two of the Boches;
+then, looking back, I saw one of my pilots
+being attacked by one of the two higher
+Germans who had made for us. This boy,
+who is now a prisoner of war, had been a
+school-mate of mine before the war. Forgetting
+everything else, I turned back to his
+assistance. The Hun who was after him did
+not see me coming. I did not fire until I
+had approached within 100 yards. Then I
+let go. The Hun was evidently surprised.
+He turned and saw me, but it was too late
+now. I was on his tail—just above and a
+little behind him—and at fifty yards I fired
+a second burst of twenty rounds. This time
+I saw the bullets going home. As was the
+case with the first machine I brought
+down, this one also flopped over on its
+back, then got into a spin, and went headlong
+to the earth, where it crashed a hopeless
+wreck.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_65">65</span></p>
+
+<p>I rejoined the photography machines, which
+unfortunately in the meantime had lost one
+of their number. We brought the five home
+safely, and the photographs were a huge
+success.</p>
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_66">66</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p class="in0"><span class="firstword">It</span> was a German boast at this time that
+their retreat from the Somme had upset
+the offensive plans of the British and French
+for months to come. How untrue this was
+they were soon to know. We Canadians
+knew that the first big “push” of the spring
+was to come at Vimy Ridge, where the Canadian
+Corps had been holding the line grimly
+the entire winter through. It had been a
+trying ordeal for our men, who were almost
+at the foot of the ridge with the Germans
+everywhere above them.</p>
+
+<p>During all the long cold months of winter
+the old Boche had been looking down on us,
+pelting the infantry in the trenches with all
+manner of bombs and trench-mortar shells,
+and making life generally uncomfortable.
+During all this time, however, and in spite
+of the fact that the Germans had direct
+observation both of our lines and the country<span class="pagenum" id="Page_67">67</span>
+behind them, we had succeeded in massing
+a hitherto unheard-of number of guns
+and great forces of reserves for the initial
+attack of the new fighting season.</p>
+
+<p>About April 1st we heard the first rumours
+of the approaching storm. The British artillery
+was tuning up all along the line, the
+greatest fire being concentrated in the neighbourhood
+of Arras and the Vimy Ridge,
+running north from that quaint old cathedral
+city. It was the beginning of that great
+tumult of artillery which eventually was to
+practically blow the top off the ridge—and
+the Germans with it. Our machines had
+been operating with the guns, ranging them
+on the German lines and the villages where
+the enemy troops were quartered in the rear.
+There had been much careful “registering”
+also of the German battery positions, so
+that when the time came for our troops to
+“go over,” the British and Canadian artillery
+could pour such a torrent of shells on
+the German guns as to keep them safely
+silent during the infantry attack.</p>
+
+<p>At last came the orders for our part in
+another phase of the “show.” It was up<span class="pagenum" id="Page_68">68</span>
+to us to “clear the air” during the last
+days of battle preparation. We did not
+want any more prying eyes looking down
+upon us from the clouds—it was bad enough
+to have to submit to the ground-observation
+from the German-held ridges. We were
+already accustomed to fighting the enemy
+aeroplanes over their own ground and thus
+keeping them as far as possible from our
+lines, but now we were assigned to a new
+job. It was attacking the enemy observation
+balloons. They flew in the same places
+almost every day—well back of the enemy
+lines; but the observers in them, equipped
+with splendid telescopes, could leisurely look
+far into our lines and note everything that
+was going on. We proposed to put out these
+enemy eyes.</p>
+
+<p>We called the big, elongated gasbags
+“sausages” and the French did likewise—“saucisses.”
+They floated in the air at
+anywhere from 800 to 3,000 feet above the
+ground, and were held captive by cables.
+These cables were attached to some special
+kind of windlasses which could pull the
+balloons down in an incredibly short space<span class="pagenum" id="Page_69">69</span>
+of time. Sometimes they would disappear
+as if by witchcraft. Wherever the sausages
+flew they were protected from aeroplane
+attack by heavy batteries of anti-aircraft
+guns, and also by what we came to know as
+“flaming onions.” These “flaming onions”
+appear to consist of about ten balls of fire,
+and are shot from some kind of rocket gun.
+You can see them coming all the way from
+the ground, and they travel just too fast to
+make it possible to dodge them. I have
+never had an “onion” nearer than 200 feet
+of me, but the effect of these balls of fire
+reaching for you is most terrifying, especially
+the first time you have the pleasure of
+making their acquaintance.</p>
+
+<p>Our instructions were not only to drive
+the enemy balloons down, but to set fire to
+and destroy them. This is done by diving
+on them from above and firing some incendiary
+missile at them—not by dropping
+bombs on them, as one so often hears in
+London.</p>
+
+<p>The British attack at Arras and Vimy
+was set for April 9th—Easter Monday. On
+April 5th we started after the sausages. The<span class="pagenum" id="Page_70">70</span>
+weather at this time was very changeable,
+chilling snow-squalls being intermingled with
+flashes of brilliant warm sunshine. It was
+cloudy and misty the day our balloon attacks
+began, and the sausages were not
+visible from our side of the lines. I was
+assigned to “do in” a particularly annoying
+sausage that used to fly persistently in the
+same place day after day. It was one of the
+sausages with a queer-shaped head, looking
+for all the world like a real flying pig—sans
+feet. Any new sort of hunting always appealed
+to me strongly, and I was eager for
+the chase when I crossed into enemy territory
+in search of my particular game. I
+flew expectantly in the direction where the
+balloon usually inhabited the air, but it was
+nowhere to be seen. I circled down close to
+the ground to be sure it was not on duty,
+and immediately found myself in the midst
+of a terrific fire from all manner of guns.
+Something told me to hurry away from
+there, and I did. The quickest shelter available
+was a rather dark and forbidding cloud,
+but I made for it with all my might, climbing
+as fast as my little single-seater would<span class="pagenum" id="Page_71">71</span>
+take me. What a relief it was to be lost in
+that friendly mist. Continuing to climb, I
+rose at last into the sunshine and then
+headed for home. My balloon had not been
+up, but my first experience as a sausage
+hunter had not been the pleasantest form
+of amusement, and I was inclined not to
+like it very much. Later on I met with
+some success against the balloons; but the
+sport, while exciting, was not to be compared
+with another aeroplane.</p>
+
+<p>The weather cleared late in the afternoon
+of the 5th, and for the first time in my flying
+career I had the privilege of going out alone
+in search of a fight. There was not an
+enemy machine in the air, however, and I
+returned with nothing to report.</p>
+
+<p>Next morning, bright and early, I was
+again out “on my own” in search of adventure.
+I had been flying over the lines for
+over half an hour when suddenly I spied an
+enemy machine about a mile over in Hunland,
+and some distance above me. In these
+days I no longer had any misgivings as to
+whether a machine was friend or foe—I had
+learned to sense the enemy. Our greatest<span class="pagenum" id="Page_72">72</span>
+difficulty at the time was drawing the Huns
+into a close combat. I set out to see what
+sort of fighting material this particular pilot
+of the Iron Crosses was made of. Keeping
+him always within view, I climbed to nearly
+15,000 feet, and from that point of vantage
+dived upon him. I waited until my plunge
+had carried me to within 150 yards of him
+before opening fire. I had gotten in a burst
+of probably twenty rounds, when my gun
+jammed. The Hun saw me and dived away
+as fast as he could go. I dived after him,
+tinkering with the gun all the time, and,
+finally getting it clear, fired another burst at
+100 yards. This drove him into a still deeper
+dive, but he flattened out again, and this
+time I gave him a burst at 50 yards. His
+machine evidently was damaged by my fire,
+for he now dived vertically toward the
+ground, keeping control, however, and landing
+safely in a field.</p>
+
+<p>This fight gave me a new resolve—to devote
+more time to target practice. I should
+have destroyed this Hun, but poor shooting
+had enabled him to escape. Going home, I
+spent an hour that day practising at a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_73">73</span>
+square target on the ground. Thereafter I
+gave as much time as possible to shooting
+practice, and to the accuracy I acquired in
+this way I feel I owe most of my successes.
+Aeroplane target practice is not without its
+dangers. The target on the ground is just
+about the size of the vital spots you aim at
+in fighting. You have to dive steeply at
+this, and there is very little margin of safety
+when plunging at full speed to within a few
+feet of the earth.</p>
+
+<p>April 6th and 7th were memorable days
+in the Flying Corps. The public, knowing
+nothing of the approaching attack which was
+to go down in history as the Battle of Arras,
+was distinctly shocked when the British
+communiqués for these two days frankly
+admitted the loss of twenty-eight of our
+machines. We considered this a small price
+to pay for the amount of work accomplished
+and the number of machines engaged, coupled
+with the fact that all of our work was done
+within the German lines. In the two days
+that we lost twenty-eight machines, we had
+accounted for fifteen Germans, who were
+actually seen to crash, and thirty-one driven<span class="pagenum" id="Page_74">74</span>
+down damaged, many of which must have
+met a similar fate. The British do not
+officially announce a hostile machine destroyed
+without strict verification. When
+you are fighting a formation of twenty or
+more Huns in a general mêlée, and one
+begins a downward spin, there is seldom
+time to disengage yourself and watch the
+machine complete its fatal plunge. You
+may be morally certain the Hun was entirely
+out of control and nothing could save him,
+but unless someone saw the crash, credit is
+given only for a machine driven down. The
+Royal Air Force is absolutely unperturbed
+when its losses on any one day exceed those
+of the enemy, for we philosophically regard
+this as the penalty necessarily entailed by
+our acting always on the offensive in the
+air.</p>
+
+<p>Technically, the Germans seldom gave a
+machine “missing,” for the fighting is practically
+always over their territory, and every
+one of their machines driven down can
+be accounted for, even if it is totally destroyed.
+Many of our losses are due wholly
+to the fact that we have to “carry on” over<span class="pagenum" id="Page_75">75</span>
+German territory. Any slight accident or
+injury that compels a descent in Hunland
+naturally means the total loss of the British
+machine. But such a loss does not involve
+a German victory in combat; it is merely
+a misfortune for us. If the machine could
+only have reached our side of the lines it
+might have been repaired in half an hour.
+The public often forgets these things when
+reading of British machines that fail to return.</p>
+
+<p>Every class of our machines was now engaged
+in the preparations for the big offensive.
+The bombing squadrons were out by
+day and by night. They would fly over the
+lines with only the stars to guide them and
+drop tons of high-explosive wherever it was
+considered that the resulting damage would
+have a crippling effect upon the defensive
+power of the German machine. Our photographers
+were busy during every hour of
+sunlight, and our artillery observing machines
+were keeping long hours in company with
+the guns, carrying on the preliminary bombardments.</p>
+
+<p>My own experiences on April 7th brought<span class="pagenum" id="Page_76">76</span>
+me my first decoration—the Military Cross.
+The thrills were all condensed into a period
+of two minutes for me. In that time I was
+fortunate enough to shoot down an enemy
+machine and destroy the “sausage” I had
+started for two days before. This should
+have been excitement enough, but I added
+to it by coming within 15 feet of being taken
+a German prisoner and becoming an unwilling
+guest of the Huns for the “duration.”</p>
+
+<p>I was ordered after my particular balloon
+and had climbed to about 5,000 feet before
+heading for the lines. On my way there I
+had to pass over one of our own observation-balloons.
+I don’t know what it was that
+attracted my attention, but, looking down,
+I saw what appeared to be two men descending
+in parachutes. A moment later the
+balloon below me burst into flames. I saw
+the enemy machine which had set it on fire
+engaged with some of ours, but as I had
+definite orders to proceed straight to the lines
+and destroy the hostile balloon which had
+been allotted to me, I was unable to join in
+the fighting.</p>
+
+<p>Just about this time an amusing incident<span class="pagenum" id="Page_77">77</span>
+was in progress at our aerodrome. A Colonel
+of the Corps was telephoning my squadron
+commander, informing him that one of our
+balloons had just been destroyed.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, if it is any consolation, young
+Bishop, of my squadron, has just gone over
+to get one of theirs,” replied my commander.</p>
+
+<p>“Good God,” said the Colonel, “I hope
+he has not made a mistake in balloon and
+set ours on fire!”</p>
+
+<p>At this moment I was serenely sailing over
+the enemy trenches, keeping a sharp look-out
+for some sign of my own balloon. After
+flying five miles over the lines, I discovered
+it and circled around as a preliminary to
+diving down upon it. But just then I heard
+the rattle of machine guns directly behind
+me and saw bullet-holes appear as if by
+magic in the wings of my machine. I pulled
+back as if to loop, sending the nose of my
+machine straight up into the air. As I did
+so the enemy scout shot by underneath me.
+I stood on my tail for a moment or two, then
+let the machine drop back, put her nose
+down, and dived after the Hun, opening fire
+straight behind him at very close range. He<span class="pagenum" id="Page_78">78</span>
+continued to dive away with increasing
+speed, and later was reported to have crashed
+just under where the combat had taken place.
+This victory I put down entirely to luck.
+The man flew directly in line with my gun
+and it would have been impossible to have
+missed him.</p>
+
+<p>I proceeded now to dive for the balloon,
+but having had so much warning, it had
+been pulled down to the ground. I would
+have been justified in going home when I
+saw this, for our orders were not to go
+under 1,000 feet after the sausages. But I
+was just a bit peevish with this particular
+balloon, and to a certain extent my blood
+was up. So I decided to attack the ungainly
+monster in its “bed.” I dived
+straight for it and when about 500 feet from
+the ground, opened fire. Nothing happened.
+So I continued to dive and fire rapid bursts
+until I was only 50 feet above the bag. Still
+there were no signs of it catching fire. I
+then turned my machine gun on the balloon
+crew, who were working frantically on the
+ground. They scattered and ran all about
+the field. Meantime a “flaming onion”<span class="pagenum" id="Page_79">79</span>
+battery was attempting to pelt me with
+those unsavoury missiles, so I whirled upon
+them with a burst of twenty rounds or more.
+One of the onions had flared within a hundred
+yards of me.</p>
+
+<p>This was all very exciting, but suddenly,
+with a feeling of faintness, I realized that
+my engine had failed. I thought that again,
+as during my first fight, the engine had
+oiled up from the steep diving I had done.
+It seemed but a moment before that I was
+coming down at a speed that must have been
+nearly 200 miles an hour. But I had lost
+it all in turning my machine upon the people
+on the ground.</p>
+
+<p>There was no doubt in my mind this time
+as to just where I was, and there appeared
+no alternative but to land and give myself
+up. Underneath me was a large open field
+with a single tree in it. I glided down, intending
+to strike the tree with one wing just
+at the moment of landing, thus damaging
+the machine so it would be of little use to
+the Huns, without injuring myself.</p>
+
+<p>I was within 15 feet of the ground, absolutely
+sick at heart with the uselessness of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_80">80</span>
+it all, my thoughts having turned to home
+and the worry they would all feel when I
+was reported in the list of the missing, when,
+without warning, one of my nine cylinders
+gave a kick. Then a second one miraculously
+came to life, and in another moment the old
+engine—the best old engine in all the world—had
+picked up with a roar on all the
+nine cylinders. Once again the whole world
+changed for me. In less time than it takes
+to tell it, I was tearing away for home at a
+hundred miles an hour. My greatest safety
+from attack now lay in keeping close to the
+ground, and this I did. The “Archies”
+cannot fire when you are so close to earth,
+and few pilots would have risked a dive at
+me at the altitude which I maintained.
+The machine guns on the ground rattled
+rather spitefully several times, but worried
+me not at all. I had had my narrow squeak
+for this day, and nothing could stop me now.
+I even had time to glance back over my
+shoulder, and there, to my great joy, I saw
+a cloud of smoke and flames rising from my
+erstwhile <i lang="fr">bête noir</i>—the sausage. We afterward
+learned it was completely destroyed.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_81">81</span></p>
+
+<p>It was a strange thing to be skimming
+along just above the ground in enemy territory.
+From time to time I would come on
+groups of Huns who would attempt to fire
+on me with rifles and pistols, but I would
+dart at them and they would immediately
+scatter and run for cover. I flew so low
+that when I would come to a clump of trees
+I would have to pull my nose straight up
+toward the sky and “zoom” over them.
+Most of the Germans were so startled to see
+me right in their midst, as it were, they
+either forgot to fire or fired so badly as to
+insure my absolute safety. Crossing the
+three lines of German trenches was not so
+comfortable, but by zigzagging and quick
+dodging I negotiated them safely and climbed
+away to our aerodrome. There I found that
+no bullets had passed very close to me,
+although my wing-tips were fairly perforated.</p>
+
+<p>That evening I was delighted to get congratulations
+not only from my Colonel, but
+from my Brigadier as well, supplemented
+later by a wire from the General Commanding
+the Flying Corps. This I proudly
+sent home the same evening in a letter.</p>
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_82">82</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p class="in0"><span class="firstword">Easter Sunday</span> was one of the most beautiful
+days I have ever seen, and we felt that
+at last the gods of the weather were going
+to smile on a British offensive. The sky was
+a wonderful blue, flecked only here and
+there with bits of floating white clouds.
+There was a warmth of spring in the sunshine
+that filled one with the joy of living.
+Hundreds of our machines were aloft to
+demonstrate anew the fact that we were
+masters of the air. They carried the fighting
+wholly into the enemy’s territory, sought
+out his aerodromes, his military headquarters,
+his ammunition dumps, his concentration
+camps, and challenged him in every possible
+manner to come up and fight. Some of our
+reconnaissance machines flew from sixty to
+ninety miles behind the German lines.</p>
+
+<p>It used to amuse and amaze me to think,
+on days like this, of the marvels that modern
+flying had accomplished. Our machines were<span class="pagenum" id="Page_83">83</span>
+not only called upon to fly faster by far than
+the swiftest birds, but to do “stunts” that
+no bird ever thought of. Whoever heard of
+a bird flying upside-down? Yet there were
+plenty of our pilots who rather delighted in
+doing this. There are trick flyers just as
+there are trick bicyclists and trick riders in
+the circus. I belonged to the steady flyers’
+class, but some day soon I am really going
+to learn to fly, to do aerial acrobatics, and
+everything. I remember crossing the lines
+one day in the hottest sort of “Archie”
+fire and suddenly seeing below me one of the
+most remarkable sights of my flying-career.
+The shape of the machine looked a little
+familiar, and the colour was certainly familiar.
+But there was something queer about the
+rigging. My curiosity was aroused, and in
+spite of the whistling “Archie” shells I
+determined to have a nearer look at this
+stranger of the air. As I approached I made
+out something that looked like wheels stuck
+up toward the sky. I was more puzzled than
+ever for a moment, then realized it was a
+machine upside-down. The wing-tips bore
+the red, white, and blue target markings of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_84">84</span>
+the British service, so I flew very close to
+see if anything was wrong. When I got
+near enough I recognized my squadron commander
+at the time. He was out having
+an afternoon stroll and had deliberately
+sailed over the lines upside-down, just to
+show his contempt for the Hun “Archies,”
+and also in the hope that he might attract
+the attention of a “head-hunter,” and thus
+bring on a little excitement.</p>
+
+<p>With the great attack scheduled for dawn
+the next morning, we went at our work on
+Easter Sunday with an added zest. At 9
+o’clock, just after the early-morning mist
+had been driven away by the mounting sun,
+I was due for an offensive patrol—in other
+words, there were six of us going over the
+lines in search of trouble. Our squadron
+commander was in the flight, and he had
+been leading us inside Hunland for about
+twenty minutes before anything happened.
+Then a two-seated machine, with the enemy
+markings on it, appeared underneath us.
+Our commander dived at him like a hawk,
+and his first burst of fire clearly hit home.
+The enemy machine dived toward the ground,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_85">85</span>
+but thinking this might be a trick I dived
+after it, firing all the way. I soon saw, however,
+that the Huns actually had been hurt
+and were doomed. So I pulled my machine
+out of the dive and looked around for the
+rest of the patrol. They had all disappeared.
+A moment or two later I sighted a pair of
+our machines engaged in a helter-skelter
+fight to the left of me, and had just started
+in their direction, when, seemingly out of nowhere
+at all, an enemy scout dived at me.
+I turned quickly and avoided him. Then
+for several minutes we had a running fight,
+firing occasionally, but neither one of us
+being able to manœuvre into a position of
+real advantage. Finally, the enemy flew
+away eastward and escaped.</p>
+
+<p>In the excitement of the fighting I had
+not noticed it before, but now, looking
+downward, I saw a Boche sausage just beneath
+me. I plunged at it just as the crew
+began to pull it frantically down. I kept
+diving and firing at the big bag, but as no
+smoke appeared I gathered I had either
+missed it all the while, or my bullets had
+failed in their duty as “fire-bugs.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_86">86</span></p>
+
+<p>I had dropped to 800 feet in my chase
+after the bag and could plainly see German
+troops marching toward the support and
+reserve lines at the front. Evidently they
+were preparing for our assault. The way
+our artillery had been going for a week past
+left them little room for doubt. I flew
+about watching these troops for some time,
+despite the tell-tale rattle of the machine
+guns on the ground, but at last decided I
+had better get out of it. I saw a cloud some
+distance above me and decided to climb into
+it and lose myself. I had just about reached
+the edge of the cloud when another enemy
+scout decided to have a go at me. I had
+fired about a hundred rounds at him when
+my gun jammed. I dodged away to have
+time to correct this, and the enemy, immediately
+seeing his advantage, dived after
+me. He was using explosive bullets, and I
+could see them burst near me from time to
+time. One hit the machine about 3 feet
+from where I was sitting and exploded, but
+did no material damage. A little more
+dodging from these ungentlemanly missiles,
+and a little more work, and my gun was<span class="pagenum" id="Page_87">87</span>
+right again. So I turned upon my pursuer.
+We fought round and round each other for
+a seemingly interminable time, when at last
+I saw my chance, darted behind him and
+gave him a short burst of fire. No effect.
+A second later I got him within my sights
+again, and this time I fired very carefully.
+His machine gave a shiver, then began
+tumbling toward the earth completely out
+of control. I followed to within a few
+hundred feet of the ground, and as it
+was still plunging helplessly, I turned
+away.</p>
+
+<p>The sky around me now seemed entirely
+deserted. It gave me time to speculate as
+to whether I should climb up to a nice, safe
+height of about two miles and then fly
+home, or whether I should streak it across
+the trenches as I had done the day before.
+Recalling some incidents of yesterday’s adventures,
+however, I decided to climb! I
+proceeded upward in wide sweeping circles,
+looking all the time for any trace of my
+missing comrades. They were not visible,
+even at 10,000 feet, so I flew around a bit
+more in the hope of finding them.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_88">88</span></p>
+
+<p>My search was rewarded, not by meeting
+my friends, but by the sudden appearance
+of two Hun machines flying in the direction
+of our lines. Drawing a little to one side so
+as to have a good look at them, I discovered
+they were being escorted and protected by
+three other machines flying well back of and
+above them. By quick thinking I estimated
+I could make a running attack on
+the lower two before the upper three could
+get into the affair. I closed in and fired a
+burst at the nearer of the two, but the second
+one got on my tail and, firing very accurately,
+gave me some of the most uncomfortable
+moments of my fighting-career. One of
+his bullets grazed my cap as it passed my
+head, then crashed through the little wind-screen
+just in front of me. This was too
+much, so, leaving my pursuit of the first
+machine, I turned and paid attention to
+Number 2. Hun No. 1, in the meantime,
+evidently decided he had had enough, for
+he kept flying away as fast as he could. In
+turning on the second machine I chanced
+to find myself in an ideal position, and
+my first burst of fire sent him spinning in<span class="pagenum" id="Page_89">89</span>
+an uncontrolled nose-dive, which ended a
+few seconds later in a “crash” just beneath
+me.</p>
+
+<p>I figured that by this time the upper three
+were due, and, turning, found all of them
+diving for me, firing with all their guns.
+There was no time for any choice of tactics
+on my part, so I headed for the enemy
+machines and flew directly under them,
+managing to get in a good burst of fire upward
+at the leading two-seater that seemed
+particularly anxious for a fight. He wasn’t
+so anxious as I had thought, for after the
+first exchange of shots he kept diving away
+and did not return. The other two, however,
+remained on the “field” of battle.
+I estimated by this time that I had only
+about forty rounds of ammunition left for
+my gun; but again there was no real
+choice for me. I had either to fight or be
+attacked in a very nasty position; so I
+fought. My two adversaries had seen the
+previous combats, and when I showed fight
+toward them they seemed none too anxious
+to prolong the fray. I had just finished my
+last bullet when the two of them dived away<span class="pagenum" id="Page_90">90</span>
+in opposite directions and left me—“lord
+of all I surveyed.”</p>
+
+<p>There was not another machine in the
+sky now, and, thankful for that fact, I headed
+for home with my throttle pushed wide
+open, and landed without any more excitement.
+When I turned in my report, especially
+the part dealing with the fight with the
+formation of five enemy machines, some of
+the squadron looked on me as some sort of
+wild man or fire-eater just escaped from the
+Zoo. The Colonel telephoned up and said
+that I had better not fly any more that day,
+so I was given the afternoon off.</p>
+
+<p>As we had to be ready to fly with the
+dawn next morning, we were early to bed
+on Easter night. As we turned in, the
+British guns were roaring all along the far-reaching
+battle-line. The whole horizon was
+lighted with their flashes, like the play of
+heat-lightning on a sultry summer evening.
+I knew the meaning and the menace in the
+booming of the cannon, but I slept the
+sound slumber of a little child.</p>
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_91">91</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p class="in0"><span class="firstword">Dawn</span> was due at 5.30 o’clock on Easter
+Monday, and that was the exact hour set
+for the beginning of the Battle of Arras.
+We were up and had our machines out of the
+hangars while it was still night. The beautiful
+weather of a few hours before had
+vanished. A strong, chill wind was blowing
+from the east and dark, menacing clouds
+were scudding along low overhead.</p>
+
+<p>We were detailed to fly at a low altitude
+over the advancing infantry, firing into the
+enemy trenches, and dispersing any groups
+of men or working troops we happened to
+see in the vicinity of the lines. Some phases
+of this work are known as “contact patrols,”
+the machines keeping track always of the
+infantry advance, watching points where
+they may be held up, and returning from
+time to time to report just how the battle is
+going. Working with the infantry in a big<span class="pagenum" id="Page_92">92</span>
+attack is a most exciting experience. It
+means flying close to the ground and constantly
+passing through our own shells as well
+as those of the enemy.</p>
+
+<p>The shell fire this morning was simply indescribable.
+The bombardment which had
+been going on all night gradually died down
+about 5 o’clock, and the Germans must have
+felt that the British had finished their
+nightly “strafing,” were tired out and going
+to bed. For a time almost complete silence
+reigned over the battlefields. All along the
+German lines star-shells and rocket-lights
+were looping through the darkness. The
+old Boche is always suspicious and likes to
+have the country around him lighted up as
+much as possible so he can see what the
+enemy is about.</p>
+
+<p>The wind kept growing stiffer and stiffer
+and there was a distinct feel of rain in the
+air. Precisely at the moment that all the
+British guns roared out their first salvo of
+the battle, the skies opened and the rain
+fell in torrents. Gunfire may or may not
+have anything to do with rainmaking, but
+there was a strange coincidence between the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_93">93</span>
+shock of battle and the commencement of
+the downpour this morning. It was beastly
+luck, and we felt it keenly. But we carried
+on.</p>
+
+<p>The storm had delayed the coming of day
+by several minutes, but as soon as there
+was light enough to make our presence worth
+while we were in the air and braving the
+untoward elements just as the troops were
+below us. Lashed by the gale, the wind
+cut the face as we moved against the enemy.
+The ground seemed to be one mass of bursting
+shells. Farther back, where the guns
+were firing, the hot flames flashing from
+thousands of muzzles gave the impression
+of a long ribbon of incandescent light. The
+air seemed shaken and literally full of shells
+on their missions of death and destruction.
+Over and over again one felt a sudden jerk
+under a wing-tip, and the machine would
+heave quickly. This meant a shell had
+passed within a few feet of you. As the battle
+went on the work grew more terrifying, because
+reports came in that several of our
+machines had been hit by shells in flight and
+brought down. There was small wonder of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_94">94</span>
+this. The British barrage fire that morning
+was the most intense the war had ever
+known. There was a greater concentration
+of guns than at any time during the Somme.
+In fact, some of the German prisoners said
+afterwards that the Somme seemed a Paradise
+compared to the bombardments we
+carried out at Arras. While the British fire
+was at its height the Germans set up a
+counter-barrage. This was not so intense,
+but every shell added to the shrieking chorus
+that filled the stormy air made the lot of
+the flying man just so much more difficult.
+Yet the risk was one we could not avoid;
+we had to endure it with the best spirit
+possible.</p>
+
+<p>The waves of attacking infantry as they
+came out of their trenches and trudged forward
+behind the curtain of shells laid down
+by the artillery were an amazing sight.
+The men seemed to wander across No Man’s
+Land, and into the enemy trenches, as if the
+battle was a great bore to them. From the
+air it looked as though they did not realize
+that they were at war and were taking it all
+entirely too quietly. That is the way with<span class="pagenum" id="Page_95">95</span>
+clock-work warfare. These troops had been
+drilled to move forward at a given pace.
+They had been timed over and over again in
+marching a certain distance, and from this
+timing the “creeping” or rolling barrage
+which moved in front of them had been
+mathematically worked out. And the battle,
+so calmly entered into, was one of the tensest,
+bitterest of the entire world-war.</p>
+
+<p>For days the battle continued, and it was
+hard work and no play for everybody concerned.
+The weather, instead of getting
+better, as spring weather should, gradually
+got worse. It was cold, windy, and wet.
+Every two or three hours sudden snow-storms
+would shut in, and flying in these squalls,
+which obliterated the landscape, was very
+ticklish business.</p>
+
+<p>On the fourth day of the battle I happened
+to be flying about 500 feet above the
+trenches an hour after dawn. It had snowed
+during the night and the ground was covered
+with a new layer of white several inches
+thick. No marks of the battle of the day
+before were to be seen; the only blemishes
+in the snow mantle were the marks of shells<span class="pagenum" id="Page_96">96</span>
+which had fallen during the last hour. No
+Man’s Land itself, so often a filthy litter,
+was this morning quite clean and white.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly over the top of our parapets a
+thin line of infantry crawled up and commenced
+to stroll casually toward the enemy.
+To me it seemed that they must soon wake
+up and run; that they were altogether too
+slow; that they could not realize the great
+danger they were in. Here and there a shell
+would burst as the line advanced or halted
+for a moment. Three or four men near the
+burst would topple over like so many tin
+soldiers. Two or three other men would
+then come running up to the spot from the
+rear with a stretcher, pick up the wounded
+and the dying, and slowly walk back with
+them. I could not get the idea out of my
+head that it was just a game they were
+playing at; it all seemed so unreal. Nor
+could I believe that the little brown figures
+moving about below me were really men—men
+going to the glory of victory or the
+glory of death. I could not make myself
+realize the full truth or meaning of it all.
+It seemed that I was in an entirely different<span class="pagenum" id="Page_97">97</span>
+world, looking down from another sphere on
+this strange, uncanny puppet-show.</p>
+
+<figure id="i_105" class="figcenter" style="max-width: 47em;">
+  <img src="images/i_105.jpg" width="2992" height="1816" alt="">
+  <figcaption class="caption">
+
+<p class="right">
+Canadian Official Photograph
+</p>
+
+<p>Nieuport Scout.</p>
+  </figcaption>
+</figure>
+
+<p>Suddenly I heard the deadly rattle of a
+nest of machine guns under me, and saw
+that the line of our troops at one place was
+growing very thin, with many figures sprawling
+on the ground. For three or four
+minutes I could not make out the concealed
+position of the German gunners. Our men
+had halted, and were lying on the ground,
+evidently as much puzzled as I was. Then
+in a corner of a German trench I saw a
+group of about five men operating two
+machine-guns. They were slightly to the
+flank of our line, and evidently had been
+doing a great amount of damage. The
+sight of these men thoroughly woke me up
+to the reality of the whole scene beneath me.
+I dived vertically at them with a burst of
+rapid fire. The smoking bullets from my
+gun flashed into the ground, and it was an
+easy matter to get an accurate aim on the
+German automatics, one of which turned its
+muzzle toward me.</p>
+
+<p>But in a fraction of a second I had reached
+a height of only 30 feet above the Huns, so<span class="pagenum" id="Page_98">98</span>
+low I could make out every detail of their
+frightened faces. With hate in my heart I
+fired every bullet I could into the group as
+I swept over it, then turned my machine
+away. A few minutes later I had the satisfaction
+of seeing our line again advancing,
+and before the time had come for me to return
+from my patrol, our men had occupied
+all the German positions they had set out
+to take. It was a wonderful sight and a
+wonderful experience. Although it had been
+so difficult to realize that men were dying
+and being maimed for life beneath me, I
+felt that at last I had seen something of
+that dogged determination that has carried
+British arms so far.</p>
+
+<p>The next ten days were filled with incident.
+The enemy fighting machines would
+not come close to the lines, and there was
+very little doing in the way of aerial combats,
+especially as far as I was concerned,
+for I was devoting practically all of my
+time to flying low and helping the infantry.
+All of our pilots and observers were doing
+splendid work. Everywhere we were covering
+the forward movement of the infantry,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_99">99</span>
+keeping the troops advised of any enemy
+movements, and enabling the British artillery
+to shell every area where it appeared concentrations
+were taking place. Scores of
+counter-attacks were broken up before the
+Germans had fairly launched them. Our
+machines were everywhere back of the
+enemy lines. It was easy to tell when the
+Germans were massing for a counter-stroke.
+First of all our machines would fly low over
+the grey-clad troops, pouring machine-gun
+bullets into them or dropping high-explosive
+bombs in their midst. Then the exact location
+of the mobilization point would be
+signalled to the artillery, so that the moment
+the Germans moved our guns were on them.
+In General Orders commending the troops
+for their part in the battle, Field-Marshal Sir
+Douglas Haig declared that the work of the
+Flying Corps, “under the most difficult
+conditions,” called for the highest praise.</p>
+
+<p>We were acting, you might say, as air
+policemen. Occasionally one of our machines
+would be set upon by the German gangsters—they
+were “careful” fighters and seldom
+attacked unless at odds of four to one—and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_100">100</span>
+naturally we suffered some casualties,
+just as the ordinary police force suffers
+casualties when it is doing patrol duty in
+an outlaw country. The weather was always
+favourable to the German methods of
+avoiding “open-air” combats. Even the
+clearer days were marked by skies filled with
+clouds sufficiently large and dense enough
+to offer protection and hiding-places to the
+high winging Hun machines.</p>
+
+<p>I had several skirmishes, but did not
+succeed in bringing down another machine
+until April 20th, when I was fortunate
+enough to begin another series of extremely
+interesting and successful fights. I was promoted
+to be a Captain about this time and
+thought I was very happy; but the promotion
+was followed by another incident which
+really made me proud. The sergeants of
+my squadron had made me a round “nose”
+for my machine. It fitted on the propeller
+head and revolved with it. I had it painted
+a brilliant blue, and from that time on my
+machine was known as “Blue Nose.” It
+was given to me, the Sergeant-Major explained,
+as a sign that I was an “Ace”—that<span class="pagenum" id="Page_101">101</span>
+I had brought down more than five
+machines. I was so pleased with this tribute
+from the men that I took old “Blue
+Nose” visiting to several other squadrons,
+where I exhibited my new mark of distinction
+to many of my friends and flying companions.</p>
+
+<p>The machine I got on April 20th was the
+first I ever destroyed in flames. It is a thing
+that often happens, and while I have no
+desire to make myself appear as a bloodthirsty
+person, I must say that to see an
+enemy going down in flames is a source of
+great satisfaction. You know his destruction
+is absolutely certain. The moment you
+see the fire break out you know that nothing
+in the world can save the man, or men, in
+the doomed aeroplane. You know there is
+no “camouflage” in this, and you have no
+fear that the enemy is trying any kind of
+flying trick in the hope that he will be left
+alone.</p>
+
+<p>I was flying over a layer of white clouds
+when I saw a two-seater just above me.
+We generally met the enemy in force during
+these days, but this German machine was<span class="pagenum" id="Page_102">102</span>
+all alone. Neither the pilot nor observer
+saw me. They flew along blissfully ignorant
+of my existence, while I carefully kept
+directly underneath them, climbing all the
+time. I was only ten yards behind the Hun
+when I fired directly up at him. It had been
+an exciting game getting into position underneath
+him, carefully following every move
+he made, waiting, hoping, and praying that
+he would not see me before I got into the
+place I wanted. I was afraid that if he did
+see me I would be at a distinct disadvantage
+below him. My hand must have been
+shaky, or my eye slightly out, because,
+although I managed to fire ten rounds, I did
+not hit anything vital. Even in this crucial
+moment the humour of the situation almost
+got the better of me. My machine seemed
+so little, carefully flying there under the
+big, peaceful Hun, who thought he was
+so safe and so far from any danger. Suddenly,
+from just underneath him, he heard
+the “tat-tat-tat-tatter-tatter” of my
+machine gun almost in his ear, the range
+was so close. Then he must have seen my
+smoking bullets passing all around him.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_103">103</span>
+Anyway, there was consternation in the
+camp. He turned quickly, and a regular
+battle in the air began between the two of
+us. We manœuvred every way possible,
+diving, rolling, stalling; he attempting to
+get a straight shot at me, while my one
+object was to get straight behind him again,
+or directly in front of him, so as to have a
+direct line of fire right into him.</p>
+
+<p>Twice I dived at him and opened fire
+from almost point-blank range, being within
+two lengths of him before I touched the
+lever which set my gun to spouting. But
+there was no success. The third time I
+tried a new manœuvre. I dived at him from
+the side, firing as I came. My new tactics
+gave the German observer a direct shot at
+me from his swivel gun, and he was firing
+very well too, his bullets passing quite close
+for a moment or two. Then, however, they
+began to fly well beyond my wing-tips, and
+on seeing this I knew that his nerve was
+shaken. I could now see my own bullets
+hitting the right part of the Hun machine,
+and felt confident the battle soon would be
+over.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_104">104</span></p>
+
+<p>I pulled my machine out of its dive just
+in time to pass about 5 feet over the enemy.
+I could see the observer evidently had been
+hit and had stopped firing. Otherwise the
+Hun machine seemed perfectly all right.
+But just after I passed I looked back over
+my shoulder and saw it burst into flames.
+A second later it fell a burning mass, leaving
+a long trail of smoke behind as it disappeared
+through the clouds. I thought for a
+moment of the fate of the wounded observer
+and the hooded pilot into whose faces I had
+just been looking—but it was fair hunting,
+and I flew away with great contentment in
+my heart.</p>
+
+<p>This fight seemed to have changed my
+luck for the better. Everywhere I went
+for the next few weeks enemy machines
+were easily found, and I had numerous combats,
+many of them successful. Some days
+I could have been accused of violating all
+the rules of a flying men’s union (if we had
+had one). I would fly as much as seven
+and a half hours between sunrise and sunset.
+Far from affecting my nerves, the more I
+flew the more I wanted to fly, the better I<span class="pagenum" id="Page_105">105</span>
+seemed to feel, and each combat became more
+and more enjoyable. Ambition was born in
+my breast, and, although I still dared not
+entertain hope of equalling the record of the
+renowned Captain Ball, who by this time
+had shot down over thirty-five machines, I
+did have vague hopes of running second to
+him.</p>
+
+<p>Along with the new ambition there was
+born in me as well a distinct dislike for all
+two-seated German flying machines! They
+always seemed so placid and sort of contented
+with themselves. I picked a fight
+with the two-seaters wherever I could find
+one, and I searched for them high and low.
+Many people think of the two-seater as a
+superior fighting machine because of its
+greater gun-power. But to me they always
+seemed fair prey and an easy target. One
+afternoon, soon after this new Hun hatred
+had become a part of my soul, I met a two-seater
+about three miles over the German
+lines and dived at him from a very low
+height. As bad luck would have it, my gun
+had a stoppage, and while I turned away
+to right it, the enemy escaped. Much disgusted,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_106">106</span>
+I headed away homeward, when
+into my delighted vision there came the
+familiar outlines of another Hun with two
+men aboard. I flew at this new enemy
+with great determination; but after a short
+battle he dived away from me, and although
+I did my best to catch him up, I could not.
+He landed in a field underneath me. To see
+him calmly alight there under perfect control
+filled me with a towering rage. I saw
+red things before my eyes. I vowed an
+eternal vendetta against all the Hun two-seaters
+in the world, and, the impulse suddenly
+seizing me, I dived right down to
+within a few feet of the ground, firing a
+stream of bullets into the machine where it
+was sitting. I had the satisfaction of knowing
+that the pilot and observer must have
+been hit, or nearly scared to death, for,
+although I hovered about for quite a long
+time, neither of them stepped from the
+silent machine.</p>
+
+<p>Half an hour after this occurrence I saw
+one of our machines in difficulties with three
+of the enemy. The Huns were so engrossed
+with the thought that they had a single<span class="pagenum" id="Page_107">107</span>
+British machine at their mercy, I felt there
+was a good chance that I might slip up and
+surprise them. My scheme worked beautifully.
+I came up to within 15 yards of one
+of the Huns, and, aiming my machine at
+him with dead accuracy, shot him down with
+my first ten bullets. He probably never
+knew where the bullets came from, not having
+the slightest idea another British machine
+was anywhere in that part of the sky. I
+turned now to assist with the other two
+Huns, but by this time my brother-pilot had
+sent one of them spinning out of control,
+while the last remaining enemy was making
+good his escape as fast as his Mercédès
+engine could pull him through the air. It
+is surprising sometimes how much dead
+resistance there is in the air when you are
+in a hurry. Having nothing better to do
+under the circumstances, I dived down after
+my own victim to get a view of the crash.
+I was just in time. He struck the ground
+at the corner of a field, and what was one
+instant a falling machine was next a twisted
+bit of wreckage.</p>
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_108">108</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p class="in0"><span class="firstword">It</span> was apparent to us by this time that the
+Germans were bringing their best pilots opposite
+the British front to meet the determined
+offensive we had been carrying on since
+April 1st. Most of the machines we met
+were handled in a manner far above the
+German average. Each night our pilots
+brought in exciting stories of the chase.
+Although they were a higher class of fighting
+men than we had hitherto flown against,
+the Germans still showed a reluctance to
+attack unless they outnumbered us by at
+least three to one. One lone German was
+induced to take a fatal chance against a
+British scout formation. By clever manœuvring,
+at which the hostile airman was
+also quite adept, we managed to entice him
+to attack one of our machines from behind.
+As he did so, a second British machine dived<span class="pagenum" id="Page_109">109</span>
+at him, and down he went, one of his wings
+breaking off as he fell.</p>
+
+<p>I can best illustrate the German tactics of
+the time by telling the experience of one
+of our faithful old photographic machines,
+which, by the way, are not without their
+desperate moments and their deeds of heroism.
+All of which goes to show that the
+fighting scouts should not get all the credit
+for the wonders of modern warfare in the
+air. The old “photographer” in question
+was returning over the lines one day when
+it was set upon by no less than eleven
+hostile scouts. Nearly all the controls of
+the British machine were shot away, and the
+observer, seriously wounded, fell half-way
+out of the nacelle. Although still manœuvring
+his machine so as to escape the direct
+fire of the enemies on his tail, the British
+pilot grasped the wounded observer, held
+him safely in the machine, and made a safe
+landing in our lines. A moment later the
+riddled aeroplane burst into flames. Under
+heavy shell-fire the pilot carried the wounded
+observer to safety.</p>
+
+<p>One of the distinguished German flying<span class="pagenum" id="Page_110">110</span>
+squadrons opposite us was under command
+of the famous Captain Baron von Richtofen.
+One day I had the distinction of engaging
+in three fights in half an hour with pilots
+from this squadron. Their machines were
+painted a brilliant scarlet from nose to tail—immense
+red birds, they were, with the
+graceful wings of their type, Albatross scouts.
+They were all single-seaters, and were flown
+by pilots of undeniable skill. There was
+quite a little spirit of sportsmanship in this
+squadron, too. The red German machines
+had two machine guns in fixed positions
+firing straight ahead, both being operated
+from the same control.</p>
+
+<p>The first of my three fights with these
+newcomers in our midst occurred when I
+suddenly found myself mixed up with two
+of them. Evidently they were not very
+anxious for a fight at the moment, for, after
+a few minutes of manœuvring, both broke
+it off and dived away. Ten minutes later I
+encountered one of the red machines flying
+alone. I challenged him, but he wouldn’t
+stay at all. On the contrary, he made off
+as fast as he could go. On my return from<span class="pagenum" id="Page_111">111</span>
+chasing him I met a second pair of red Huns.
+I had picked up company with another
+British machine, and the two Huns, seeing
+us, dived into a cloud to escape. I went in
+after them, and on coming out again
+found one directly beneath me. On to him
+I dived, not pulling the trigger until I was
+15 yards away. Once, twice, three times I
+pressed the lever, but not a shot from my
+gun! I slipped away into another cloud
+and examined the faithless weapon, only to
+find that I had run completely out of ammunition.
+I returned home quite the most
+disgusted person in the entire British Army.</p>
+
+<p>During the changeable days of the Arras
+offensive we had many exciting adventures
+with the weather. On one occasion I had
+gone back to the aircraft depot to bring to
+the front a new machine. Sunshine and
+snow-squalls were chasing each other in a
+seemingly endless procession. On the ground
+the wind was howling along at about fifty
+miles an hour. I arrived at the depot at
+9 o’clock in the morning, but waited about
+until four in the afternoon before the weather
+appeared to be settling down to something<span class="pagenum" id="Page_112">112</span>
+like a safe and sane basis. The sunshine
+intervals were growing longer and the snow
+periods shorter, so I climbed into my machine
+and started off. It was only a fifteen
+minutes’ fly to the aerodrome, but in that
+time a huge black cloud loomed up and
+came racing toward me. I was headed
+straight into the gale, and the way was so
+rough from the rush of the wind and the
+heavy clouds floating by that the little
+machine was tossed about like a piece of
+paper. Several times I thought I was going
+to be blown completely over. Occasionally,
+without any warning, I would be lifted a
+sheer hundred feet in the air. Then later I
+would be dropped that distance, and often
+more. I was perspiring freely, although it
+was a very cold day. It was a race against
+the weather to reach my destination in
+time.</p>
+
+<p>One cannot see in a snowstorm, and I felt
+that if the fleecy squall struck me before I
+sighted the aerodrome I would have to land
+in a ploughed field, and to do this in such a
+gale would be a very ticklish proposition.
+Added to all this, I was flying a machine of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_113">113</span>
+a type I had never handled before, and
+naturally it was a bit strange to me. Nearer
+and nearer the big cloud came. But I was
+racing for home at top speed. About half
+a mile from the haven I sought, the storm
+struck me. The moment before the snow
+deluge came, however, I had recognized the
+road that led to the aerodrome, and coming
+down to 50 feet, where I could just make
+it out, I flew wildly on, praying all the time
+that the snow striking my engine would not
+cause it to stop. Then the awful thought
+came to me that perhaps I was on the wrong
+road. Then, even more suddenly than it
+had come, the snow stopped—the storm had
+swept right over me. There, just ahead of
+me, I saw the tents and hangars and the
+flying pennant of the aerodrome—home.
+This was my first experience in flying
+through snow, and I did not care for another.</p>
+
+<p>A few days after my unsuccessful experience
+with the red Richtofen scouts, I got
+my just revenge and a little more back
+from the Huns. My Major had been told
+to have some photographs taken of a certain
+point behind the German lines, and by<span class="pagenum" id="Page_114">114</span>
+special permission he was given the privilege
+of taking them himself. The point to be
+photographed was about seven miles in German
+territory, and in order to make a success
+of the snapshotting it would be necessary
+to have a strong escort. The Major
+offered to go out and do the photographs
+on his own without an escort, but the
+Colonel would not hear of it, and so it was
+arranged that an offensive patrol would go
+out at 9 o’clock in the morning, meet the
+Major at a given point, and escort him over
+the ground he wished to cover.</p>
+
+<p>My patrol was the one working at the
+time, and I was the leader. At 9.30 we were
+to meet, just east of Arras, at 6,000 feet.
+The rendezvous came off like clockwork. I
+brought the patrol to the spot at 9.28, and
+two minutes later we spied a single Nieuport
+coming toward us. I fired a red signal light
+and the Nieuport answered. It was the
+Major. I then climbed slightly and led the
+patrol along about 1,000 feet above the
+Nieuport in order to protect the Major and
+at the same time keep high enough to avoid
+too much danger from anti-aircraft fire. We<span class="pagenum" id="Page_115">115</span>
+got to the area to be photographed without
+any other excitement than a very heavy
+greeting from the “Archies.” There were
+a number of big white clouds floating around
+about 6,000 feet, and these made it difficult
+for the guns to shoot at us. But they also
+made it difficult for the Major to get his
+photographs. We went around and around
+in circles for what seemed an eternity.
+During one of these sweeping turns I suddenly
+saw four enemy scouts climbing between
+two clouds and some distance off. I
+knew they would see us soon, so it occurred
+to me it would be a brilliant idea to let the
+enemy think there was only one British
+machine on the job. Under these circumstances
+I knew they would be sure to attack,
+and then the rest of us could swoop down
+and surprise them. I had no intention of
+letting the Major in for any unnecessary
+risks, but it seemed such a rare chance, I
+could not resist it.</p>
+
+<p>I led the patrol about 2,000 feet higher
+up and there we waited. The enemy scouts
+did not see us at all, but they did see the
+Major. And they made for him. The first<span class="pagenum" id="Page_116">116</span>
+the Major knew of their approach, however,
+was when they were about 200 yards away,
+and one of them, somewhat prematurely,
+opened fire. His thoughts—he told me
+afterward—immediately flew to the patrol,
+and he glanced over his shoulder to see where
+we were. But we had vanished. He then
+wondered how much money he had in his
+pockets, as he did not doubt that the four
+Huns, surprising him as they had, would
+surely get him. Despite these gloomy and
+somewhat mercenary thoughts, the Major
+was fighting for his life. First he turned
+the nose of his machine directly toward the
+enemy, poured a burst of bullets toward a
+German at his right; then turned to the left,
+as the second machine approached in that
+direction, and let him have a taste of British
+gunfire as well. This frightened the first
+two Huns off for a moment, and, in that
+time, I arrived down on the scene with the
+rest of the patrol.</p>
+
+<p>One of the Huns was firing at the Major’s
+machine as I flashed by him, and I fired at
+a bare ten yards’ range. Then I passed on
+to the second enemy machine, firing all<span class="pagenum" id="Page_117">117</span>
+the while, and eventually passing within
+5 feet of one of his wing-tips. Turning my
+machine as quickly as I could, I was yet too
+late to catch the other two of the formation
+of four. They had both dived away and
+escaped. I had hit the two that first attacked
+the Major, however, and they were
+at the moment falling completely out of
+control 1,000 or more feet below me, and
+finally went through the clouds, floundering
+helplessly in the air.</p>
+
+<p>This little interruption ended, we all reassembled
+in our former positions and went on
+with the photographing. This was finished
+in about fifteen minutes, and, under a very
+heavy anti-aircraft fire, we returned home.
+The episode of the four Huns was perhaps
+the most successful bit of trapping I have
+ever seen, but it was many weeks before the
+squadron got through teasing me for using
+our commander as a decoy. I apologized to
+the Major, who agreed with me that the
+chance was too good a one to miss.</p>
+
+<p>“Don’t mind me,” he said; “carry on.”</p>
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_118">118</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p class="in0"><span class="firstword">Just</span> to show there was no ill-feeling, the
+Major that afternoon proposed some excitement
+of an entirely different sort. There
+was no patrol marked down for us, so the
+Major took another pilot and myself out on
+a sort of Cook’s tour. We called it “seeing
+the war.” We all piled into an automobile,
+drove through poor old shell-torn Arras,
+which was fairly stiff with troops moving up
+toward the front and with relieved divisions
+that were coming out of the line for hard-earned
+rest. Occasionally there was the
+screech of a “Whistling Percy” overhead—a
+shell from a long-range 16-inch naval
+gun some miles beyond the German lines.
+It was vastly different from flying, this
+motoring through Arras, threading your
+way tediously in and out of the marching
+troops and the interminable traffic of offensive
+warfare.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_119">119</span></p>
+
+<p>Finally, we passed the railway-station,
+which had long been a favourite target for
+the German gunners, but still showed some
+semblance of its former utility; turned
+“Dead Man’s Corner” into the road for
+Cambrai, proceeded over what had once been
+our front line, then over the old No Man’s
+Land, and finally came to a halt some miles
+beyond the city. There we left the car
+behind the crest of a hill, and out of direct
+observation from the enemy trenches, which
+were not very far away. We were very
+bold, we three musketeers of the upper air,
+as we set out afoot, without a guide, to
+make our way toward a German machine
+that had been brought down a few days
+before just inside our lines.</p>
+
+<p>On the way we had to pass about thirty
+batteries of artillery, and as no one said
+anything to us we presumed we were all
+right in strolling along in front of them.
+The guns seemed harmless enough, sitting
+there so cold and silent. However, before
+we had gone so very far, a man crawled out
+of a hole in the ground and told us that if
+we were going anywhere in particular we<span class="pagenum" id="Page_120">120</span>
+had better hurry, as a battle was due to
+start in just five minutes. We questioned
+him about the “show,” and then decided to
+walk on as fast as we could and reach the
+village of Monchy, which sat a mass of ruins
+on a little hill, and was just 200 yards
+within our lines.</p>
+
+<p>Monchy-le-Preux, to give the little town
+the full dignity of its Artois name, is about
+five miles east of Arras, and was the final
+fixed objective of the Easter drive. It is the
+highest bit of ground between Arras and
+the German border. Around it swirled some
+of the most desperate fighting of the entire
+war. It had been a pretty little place up
+to a few days before, but the moment the
+Germans had been driven from their defensive
+works about the village, many of them
+at the point of the bayonet, the German
+artillery was turned on Monchy in a perfect
+torrent of explosive shells. What had once
+been houses quickly disappeared, or were
+dissolved into jagged ruins. Our infantry
+had found three bed-ridden French civilians
+still living in Monchy when we took it, but
+fortunately for them they had been passed<span class="pagenum" id="Page_121">121</span>
+back to one of our hospitals before the Boche
+started his destructive bombardments.</p>
+
+<p>It was just 3 o’clock when all the guns
+behind us opened fire over our heads. I
+must admit that I was at least “nervous”
+for the next half-hour. Shells were going
+over us by the thousand, and pretty soon
+the Germans started their retaliatory fire.
+Many of the Boche shells landed quite near
+to us. We could see them explode and
+throw up from the ground great fountains
+of earth and débris, but we could not hear
+them on account of the roar of our own
+artillery.</p>
+
+<p>There we were, the three of us, in the
+midst of a battle that we didn’t know a thing
+on earth about. My nervousness grew perceptibly
+as I looked around and realized
+that in the whole of the country there was
+not another soul walking about. Everyone
+was under cover, or dug in somewhere, except
+us three. However, we decided there
+was no going back; so we went on.</p>
+
+<p>Our taking refuge in Monchy was surely
+a case of ignorance being bliss. We crawled
+into the wrecked village, having passed,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_122">122</span>
+without knowing it, another “Dead Man’s
+Corner” far deadlier than the one in Arras
+itself. This Monchy corner had a speciality
+of its own—machine-gun fire. The
+Germans used to rake it many times a
+day. Evidently they were engaged in
+some other nefarious occupation as we
+walked blithely by the place, on into the
+village, then down the main street, picking
+our way carefully in a zigzag course among
+the débris. About this time another good
+Samaritan hailed us. He came dashing out
+of a house and told us to run for cover.
+Not knowing any cover of our own, we
+followed him to his. He led us into a deep
+dugout the Germans had built during their
+occupancy of the town. We told our guide
+and friend that we wanted to move on very
+shortly, but he laughed and said we would
+have no choice in the matter for the next
+few hours. He knew the habits of the
+Huns in that particular locality. Promptly
+at 4 o’clock the Germans began their daily
+bombardment. Our friend and guide, now
+turned philosopher, told us the Germans
+had the dugout “registered” very accurately,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_123">123</span>
+and it would be unsafe to move from
+it until the firing was over for the day.
+We were shut up in this hole for an hour or
+more, when we decided to take our chances
+and go home.</p>
+
+<p>We were very much worried, in the meantime,
+that our car, resting on the high-road,
+might have been hit. Everything pointed
+to the fact that it was time for us to go.
+So, in a temporary lull, we crawled out and
+made a dash through the village. We did
+not leave by the same way we had come.
+We knew too much by this time of “Dead
+Man’s Corner.” Once clear of Monchy we
+noticed that a large number of shells were
+dropping in a sort of barrier about 400 yards
+in front of us. We pressed on, nevertheless,
+in the hope that there would be a sufficient
+lull in the firing to let us slip through the
+shell line. No lull appeared imminent, however,
+so we turned away to the right to avoid
+the particular spots that apparently had
+aroused the Germans’ ire. We had not gone
+far when a huge shell dropped about 30
+yards from us. It knocked two of us clean
+off our feet and on our backs in the mud.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_124">124</span>
+It was rude, we thought, to treat three unoffending
+airmen out for a holiday like this,
+so we were more than ever anxious to get
+out of it all. At last we arrived at some
+derelict tanks, left over from last week’s
+battles, and there we found an ammunition
+column passing back from the guns. We
+climbed aboard one of the empty limbers,
+glad of the lift, and gladder still of the company
+of these imperturbable khaki soldiers
+who were taking the events of the afternoon
+with that strange spirit of boredom one so
+often finds up near the firing-lines.</p>
+
+<p>We told the drivers we had left our car
+over the hill near a stranded tank, and they
+assured us they were going in that very
+direction. So we sat peacefully on the
+rattling limber for a mile or more. Then,
+being quite certain we were going the wrong
+way, we inquired of the ammunition-column
+men how far it was to their tank. They
+said it was just ahead of us. We looked.
+There was a tank, quite all right, but it was
+not <em>our</em> tank. A little more explaining to
+the soldiers that were now quite plentiful
+about us, and we were informed that our<span class="pagenum" id="Page_125">125</span>
+tank was at least a mile and a half away.
+We had made a stupid mistake, but we paid
+for it in the muddy walk we had back.</p>
+
+<p>The car was perfectly safe when we got
+to it, and some time later we returned to
+the aerodrome right as rain. We had picked
+up a lot of souvenirs during our walk into
+Monchy and out again, and felt like Cook’s
+tourists indeed when Tommies on the way
+would look at us with a tolerant smile.</p>
+
+<p>These were wonderfully interesting days
+to me. Late the next afternoon I had the
+good fortune to be a spectator of the greatest
+fight in the air I have ever seen. Thrilling
+fights are often witnessed from the ground,
+but more of them take place at heights so
+misty that ground observers know nothing
+of them, unless one or more of the combatants
+should come tumbling down in a crash.
+More than often fights in the air would go
+unobserved if it were not for the “Archie”
+shells breaking in the sky. These shells play
+about friend and foe alike, but when you
+are really intent upon an air duel the
+“Archies” make no impression upon you
+whatever.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_126">126</span></p>
+
+<p>It was my privilege this day to see the
+spectacular fight from my machine. I had
+been idling along in the afternoon breeze,
+flying all alone, when I saw in the distance a
+great number of machines, whirling, spinning,
+and rolling in a great aerial mêlée. I
+made toward them as fast as I could go, and
+as I approached watched the fight carefully.
+It was very hard to tell for a time which
+machines were ours and which were the
+Huns’. Coming nearer it was easier, for
+then the Huns could be distinguished by the
+brilliant colouring of many of their machines.</p>
+
+<p>Hunting the Huns had taken on a new
+interest at this time because suddenly their
+machines had appeared painted in the most
+grotesque fashion. It was as if they had
+suddenly got an idea from the old Chinese
+custom of painting and adorning warriors
+so as to frighten the enemy. We learned
+afterward that it was just a case of the
+spring fancies of the German airmen running
+riot with livid colour-effects. We
+wanted to paint our machines, too, but our
+budding notions were frowned upon by the
+higher officers of the Corps. But every day<span class="pagenum" id="Page_127">127</span>
+our pilots were bringing home fresh stories
+of the fantastic German creations they had
+encountered in the skies. Some of them
+were real harlequins of the air, outrivalling
+the gayest feathered birds that had winged
+their way north with the spring. The scarlet
+machines of Baron von Richtofen’s crack
+squadron, sometimes called the “circus,”
+heralded the new order of things. Then it
+was noticed that some of the enemy craft
+were painted with great rings about their
+bodies. Later, nothing was too gaudy for
+the Huns. There were machines with green
+planes and yellow noses; silver planes with
+gold noses; khaki-coloured bodies with
+greenish grey planes; red bodies with green
+wings; light blue bodies and red wings;
+every combination the Teutonic brain could
+conjure up. One of the most fantastic we
+had met had a scarlet body, a brown tail,
+reddish brown planes, the enemy markings
+being white crosses on a bright green background.
+Some people thought the Germans
+had taken on these strange hues as a bit of
+spring camouflage; but they were just as
+visible or even more so in the startling<span class="pagenum" id="Page_128">128</span>
+colours they wore, and we put it down
+simply to the individual fancies of the enemy
+pilots.</p>
+
+<p>The battle seemed to be at about evens,
+when suddenly I saw a German machine,
+brightly coloured, fall out of the mêlée, turning
+over and over like a dead leaf falling
+from a tree late in autumn. I watched it
+closely for what seemed an awful length of
+time, but finally it crashed a complete wreck.
+Turning my eyes to the fight again, I saw
+one of our own machines fall out of control.
+Half-way between the scrimmage and the
+ground I thought it was coming into control
+again, but it turned into another dive
+and crashed near the fallen Hun. A moment
+later a second German machine came tumbling
+out of the fight. Eaten up with anxiety
+to get into the fight myself, I could not help
+having a feeling akin to awe as I watched
+the thrilling struggle. A mass of about
+twelve machines was moving around and
+around in a perfect whirlwind, and as I
+approached I could see our smoking bullets
+and the flaming missiles of the Huns darting
+in all directions.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_129">129</span></p>
+
+<p>Just as I reached the scene, the fight, unfortunately
+for me, broke up, and my participation
+in it was limited to a short chase
+and a few shots after the fleeing Germans.</p>
+
+<p>Balloon attacks now came into fashion
+again, and for a short time we were told to
+attack them every day. In my case most
+of these attacks were unsuccessful. One
+day I crossed after a balloon only 2,000 feet
+up. Although I flew as fast as I could to
+reach the “sausage,” it had been hauled
+down before I got to it. Despite this, I flew
+low and attacked the gasbag, but with no
+apparent results. The balloon still sat there
+peacefully on the ground. Some enemy
+machines were in the distance attacking one
+of the men of my squadron who was after
+another “sausage,” and I flew to his assistance
+and managed to frighten them off. I
+then returned to the balloon, had another
+go at it—but again no result. It was discouraging
+work.</p>
+
+<p>That day, out of three of us who crossed
+to attack the balloons, one man was lost.
+His experience was rather a bitter one, but
+he fought death under such a heavy handicap<span class="pagenum" id="Page_130">130</span>
+and with such bravery that his story is
+worthy of relation as one of the traditions
+of the Royal Flying Service. It was his
+first attack on the balloons, and he crossed
+the lines with me. We separated when
+about half a mile over. When he dived
+after his balloons, two Hun machines got
+on his tail, and with their first burst of
+fire managed to hit both of his legs, breaking
+one. A second afterwards a shot went
+through his petrol tank, and the inflammable
+liquid poured over his helpless legs. But,
+wounded as he was, he fought back at the
+Germans and managed to get back over
+our lines. The two Germans, realizing he
+was badly hit, kept after him, and with another
+burst of fire shot away all his controls
+and at the same time set fire to the
+machine. It dived to the earth a flaming
+torch, and crashed. Some brave Tommies
+who were near rushed frantically into the
+blazing wreckage, and pulled the unfortunate
+pilot out. He was taken to a hospital,
+where we found him, badly burned, one leg
+and one arm broken, and several bullet
+wounds in his body.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_131">131</span></p>
+
+<p>For two weeks he improved steadily, and
+we all had high hopes of his recovery. Then
+the doctors found it necessary to amputate
+his broken leg, and two days later the poor
+lad died. He had been in France but a
+few weeks.</p>
+
+<p>“I came half-way round the world from
+Australia to fight the Hun,” he told one of
+our men in hospital. “I served through
+the campaign at Gallipoli as a Tommy, and
+at last I got where I longed to be—in the
+Flying Corps. It seems hard to have it end
+like this so soon.”</p>
+
+<div class="tb">* * * * *</div>
+
+<p>There was joy in flying these later day
+in April when a tardy spring at last was
+beginning to assert itself. The hardness of
+the winter was passing and the earth at times
+was glorious to see. I remember one afternoon
+in particular when the whole world
+seemed beautiful. We were doing a patrol
+at two miles up about six o’clock. Underneath
+us a great battle was raging, and we
+could see it all in crisp clearness, several lines
+of white smoke telling just where our barrage
+shells were bursting. The ground all about<span class="pagenum" id="Page_132">132</span>
+the trenches and the battle-area was dark
+brown, where it had been churned up by the
+never-ceasing fire of the opposing artillery.
+On either side of the battle-zone could be
+seen the fields, the setting sun shining on
+them with the softest of tinted lights. Still
+farther back—on both sides—was the cultivated
+land. The little farms stood out in
+varying geometric designs, with different
+colours of soil and shades of green, according
+to what had been sown in them and the
+state of the coming crops. There was no
+mist at all, and one could see for miles and
+miles.</p>
+
+<p>From Arras I could see the Channel, and
+it resembled more a river of liquid gold
+than a sea. Across the Channel it was possible
+to make out England and the Isle of
+Wight. The chalk cliffs of Dover formed a
+white frame for one side of the splendid
+picture. Toward Germany one could see a
+tremendous wooded country, a stretch of
+watered lowlands beyond the trees, and the
+rest indistinct. To the south I could make
+out a bit of the River Seine, while to the
+north lay the Belgian coast. The marvellous<span class="pagenum" id="Page_133">133</span>
+beauty of it all made the war seem impossible.
+We flew peacefully along for miles
+in the full enjoyment of it all, and I shall
+always be glad we did not have a fight that
+evening. It would have brought me back
+to stern reality with too sudden a jerk.</p>
+
+<p>A few days later I was away from the
+beauties in life and after the grossly hideous
+balloons again. Success rewarded one of my
+earnest efforts. It happened one morning
+when we had been patrolling the air just
+above the trenches. It was a very dull
+morning, the clouds being under 3,000 feet.
+Well across the lines I could make out the
+portly form of a German balloon sitting just
+under them. The sight of the “sausage”
+filled me with one of those hot bursts of rage
+I had so often in these days against everything
+German in the world. After the finish
+of the patrol, I had my machine filled up
+with petrol, and, with a good supply of
+special ammunition, started out on a voluntary
+expedition to bring down that fat and
+self-satisfied balloon. Upon nearing the lines
+I flew up into the clouds, having taken a
+careful compass bearing in the exact direction<span class="pagenum" id="Page_134">134</span>
+of my intended victim. Flying slowly
+at a rate of sixty miles an hour, I crept
+steadily forward, taking reckonings now and
+then from the compass and my other flying-instruments.
+I figured the balloon was six
+miles over the lines, and as I had climbed
+into the clouds about one mile behind our
+own lines, I reckoned that seven minutes
+should let me down just where I wanted to
+be. I popped out of the clouds with every
+nerve tense, expecting to find the sausage
+just beneath me. Instead, I found nothing,
+not even a familiar landmark. I felt pretty
+sick at heart when I realized I had lost myself.
+My compass must have been slightly
+out of bearing, or I had flown very badly.
+At the moment I had no idea where I was.
+I flew in a small circle, and then spied another
+balloon quite near me. The balloon had seen
+me first, the “S.O.S.” had gone out, and it
+was being hauled down with miraculous
+swiftness. I dived for the descending German
+as hard as I could go, and managed to
+get within 50 yards while it was still 800
+feet up. Opening fire, I skimmed just over
+the top of the balloon, then turned to attack<span class="pagenum" id="Page_135">135</span>
+again, when, to my great joy, I saw the bag
+was smoking. I had seen no one leap from
+the observer’s basket hanging underneath,
+so I fired a short burst into it just to liven up
+anybody who happened to be sitting there.
+The sausage was then smoking heavily, so
+I flew south in the hope of finding some
+landmark that would tell me the way home.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly another balloon loomed before
+me, and at the same time I recognized by
+the ground that it was the “sausage” I had
+first set out to attack. I fired the remainder
+of my ammunition at it at long range, but
+had no effect so far as I could see. I then
+came down to 15 feet of the ground and
+flew along a river-bank that I knew would
+lead me home. I had found this low flying
+over enemy-land quite exhilarating, and
+rather liked the sights I used to see.</p>
+
+<p>During the next week I had three or four
+very unsatisfactory combats. My work consisted
+mostly of sitting patiently over the
+lines, waiting for an enemy to appear. Then,
+after it had put in an appearance, I would
+carefully watch for an opportunity and
+attack, only to have the Hun escape. I was<span class="pagenum" id="Page_136">136</span>
+mostly concerned with my old friends the
+enemy two-seaters, especially the ones that
+would fly at low altitudes doing artillery
+observation work. I would try to get behind
+a cloud, or in one, and surprise them
+as they went by. I managed to pounce
+upon several machines from ambush, but
+had no luck at all in the succeeding combats.
+On such occasions I would return much disgusted
+to the aerodrome and put in more
+time at the target.</p>
+
+<p>I began to feel that my list of victims was
+not climbing as steadily as I would have
+liked. Captain Ball was back from a winter
+rest in England and was adding constantly
+to his already big score. I felt I had to keep
+going if I was to be second to him. So I
+was over the enemy lines from six to seven
+hours every day, praying for some easy
+victims to appear. I had had some pretty
+hard fighting. Now I wanted to shoot
+a “rabbit” or two. Several times while
+sitting over the lines I was caught badly by
+anti-aircraft fire, and had to do a lot of
+dodging and turning to avoid being badly
+hit by the singing shrapnel shells. As it was,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_137">137</span>
+I frequently returned with scars, where bits
+of shell had pierced my planes and fuselage.</p>
+
+<p>One day I saw a two-seater flying calmly
+along about three miles high. I started to
+climb up under him, and it seemed to me
+I was hours on the way, for he had seen me
+and was climbing as well. Eventually I
+reached his level, but we were then nearly
+four miles from the earth. The air was so
+thin I found it difficult to get my breath.
+It was coming in quick gasps and my heart
+was racing like mad. It is very difficult to
+fly a single-seater at such altitudes, much
+more to fight in one. The air is so rare that
+the small machines, with their minimum of
+plane surface, have very little to rest upon.
+The propeller will not “bite” into the thin
+atmosphere with very much of a pull. But
+despite all this, I decided to have a go at the
+big German two-seater, and we did a series
+of lazy manœuvres. I realized I was unable
+to put much energy into the fighting,
+and the only shot I got at the Hun I missed!
+At the height we had met, the Hun machine
+was faster than mine, so in a few minutes
+he broke off the combat and escaped.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_138">138</span></p>
+
+<p>I spent half an hour under another enemy
+machine, trying to stalk him, but he finally
+got away. During the time I was “hiding”
+under the two-seater I was quite happy in
+the belief that he could not bring a gun to
+bear on me. But when I landed I found
+several bullet-holes in the machine close to
+my body. After that I kept a sharper
+look-out on the fellows upstairs.</p>
+
+<p>One day, after climbing slowly to 17,000
+feet and still finding no victims, I flew
+fifteen miles inside the German lines, hoping
+to catch some unwary enemy aloft. At
+last, about half a mile beneath me, I saw a
+lone scout. I carefully manœuvred to get
+between him and the sun, for once there I
+knew he could not see me and I would have
+all the advantage of a surprise attack. I
+was within 20 yards, and going about 130
+miles an hour, when I opened fire. Not
+more than ten shots had sped from my gun
+when the Hun went spinning down in a nose-dive,
+seemingly out of control. I dived after
+him, firing steadily, and we had dropped
+something like 3,000 feet when the enemy
+machine burst into flames.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_139">139</span></p>
+
+<p>During my dive I had seen a black speck
+in the distance which looked as if it might
+be a Hun. So I climbed again and made
+in the direction of the speck, hoping it would
+turn out to be an enemy machine. It did,
+and I succeeded in getting in another surprise
+attack, but my shots hit no vital spot
+and the German slid away in safety.</p>
+
+<p>A few minutes later I saw a third Hun,
+and again I manœuvred for the advantage
+of the sun position. But the pilot either
+saw me before I got into the blinding rays,
+or else he saw the other machine diving
+away and thought something was wrong,
+for he, too, dived steeply before I could get
+within effective range.</p>
+
+<p>However, I was very well pleased with
+the day’s work, for I had sent my second
+machine down in flames. Such an incident
+has never failed to put me in a good humour.
+It is so certain and such a satisfactory way
+of destroying Huns.</p>
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_140">140</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p class="in0"><span class="firstword">April</span> 30th was a red-letter day for me. I
+celebrated it by having a record number of
+fights in a given space of time. In one hour
+and forty-five minutes I had nine separate
+scraps. This was during the morning. Before
+we had tea that afternoon, the Major
+and I had a set-to with four scarlet German
+scouts that was the most hair-raising encounter
+I have ever been mixed up in.</p>
+
+<p>This very pleasant fighting-day started
+when I led my patrol over the lines, and
+dived so steeply after an enemy machine
+which suddenly appeared beneath me that
+I nearly turned over. The remainder of the
+patrol lost me completely. I kept putting
+the nose of my Nieuport down until I got
+beyond the vertical point. I fell forward in
+my seat and struck my head against the
+little wind-screen. I was going down so
+fast I upset my aim completely, and allowed<span class="pagenum" id="Page_141">141</span>
+the Hun, by a quick manœuvre, to escape
+me altogether. The patrol had disappeared,
+so I climbed up as fast as I could to have a
+look around.</p>
+
+<p>Five minutes later I saw two huge Huns
+directly over our lines. They were easily
+mammoths of the air. I wanted to have a
+look at the strangers, so started in their
+direction, keeping my own level, which was
+a little beneath the big Germans. They
+grew rapidly in size as I approached, and I
+took them to be some new type of two-seater.
+From later experiences and diagrams
+I have seen, I think now they must have
+been the three-seater Gothas—like the
+machines that later flew over London so
+often, many of them coming to grief as the
+penalty of their daring.</p>
+
+<p>This was probably the first appearance of
+the Gothas over our lines. A few days later
+I had another glimpse of two of them in the
+distance; but that was the last I saw of the
+monstrous Germans. This day they seemed
+rather keen for a fight, and one of them
+came down in a slow spiral to get at me.
+I, at the same time, was trying to stay in<span class="pagenum" id="Page_142">142</span>
+the “blind spot” just beneath him, and
+hoped eventually to get a steady shot at
+some vital point. We must have made a
+ludicrous picture, little me under the huge
+Hun. I felt like a mosquito chasing a wasp,
+but was willing to take a chance.</p>
+
+<p>While manœuvring with the first monster,
+the second one dived at me from a slight
+angle, and seemed to open fire with a whole
+battery of machine guns. I dived to gain
+a little more speed, then pulled my nose
+straight up into the air and opened fire.
+When I had got off about fifteen rounds,
+the gun jammed, and I had to dive quickly
+away to see what was wrong. I found I
+could do nothing with it in the air; but my
+aerodrome was only a few miles away, so I
+dived down to it, corrected the jam, and
+was away again in a few minutes in search
+of more excitement.</p>
+
+<p>I was very peevish with myself for having
+missed a chance to bring down one of the
+big new German machines, and was in a
+real fighting temper as I recrossed the lines.
+I had not gone far on my way when I
+saw three of the enemy about two miles<span class="pagenum" id="Page_143">143</span>
+away, doing artillery work. I dived for the
+nearest one and opened fire. Then I had
+the somewhat stirring sensation of seeing
+flaming bullets coming from all three of
+the Huns at once in my direction. The
+odds were three to one against me, and
+each enemy machine had two guns to my
+one, but suddenly they quit firing, turned,
+and fled away. I went after them, but
+quickly saw the game they were attempting
+to play. They were trying to lead me
+directly under five scarlet Albatross scouts.</p>
+
+<p>These scarlet machines, as I have explained
+before, all belonged to von Richtofen’s
+squadron. I saw them just in time to
+turn away. I drew off about a mile, then
+easily outclimbed my brilliant red rivals.
+Having gained the advantage of position, I
+decided to have a go at the crack German
+flyers. I dived toward them with my gun
+rattling, but just before reaching their level
+I pulled the machine up and “zoomed”
+straight up in the air, ascending for a short
+distance with the speed of a rocket. Then
+I would turn and dive and open fire again,
+repeating the performance several times.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_144">144</span>
+The Huns evidently had expected me to
+dive right through them, but my tactics
+took them by surprise and they began to
+show nervousness. After the third “zoom”
+and dive, the formation broke up and
+scattered.</p>
+
+<p>Then I turned around to look for the
+treacherous two-seaters who had sought to
+lead me into a veritable death-trap. I had
+searched several minutes before I picked
+them out of the sky, and I can still remember
+the thrill of joy with which I hailed
+them. It had seemed such a rotten trick,
+when they were three to one, not even to
+show fight, but simply try to trick me. I
+felt I must have vengeance, and went after
+them with the firm conviction that this
+time something was going to happen. I
+got into position where they would pass in
+front of me, and dived at the second Hun.
+His observer was firing at me, and pretty
+soon the other two Huns chimed in. Add
+to this staccato chorus the healthy rattle
+of my own gun, and you may gain some
+idea of the din we were making in mid-air.
+My first twenty shots silenced the observer<span class="pagenum" id="Page_145">145</span>
+in the machine I was attacking, and as I
+passed over it, it suddenly slipped to one
+side, then stood on its nose, and fell. I did
+not have time to watch this machine down,
+but turned to attack the third Hun in the
+line. He had seen his comrade’s fate, however,
+and, losing heart, had begun to dive
+away. I poured fifty rounds after him, then
+let him go. The leading machine had now
+disappeared, so I was left free to dive down
+and see what had happened to the Hun who
+had fallen out of the fight. He crashed in
+the most satisfactory manner. I turned
+and flew south, feeling very much better.</p>
+
+<p>But I was not idle long. The five scarlet
+scouts had gotten together again and were
+approaching our lines farther south with the
+evident intention of attacking isolated British
+artillery machines. This particular squadron
+had made a habit of sneaking across our
+lines during the spring, and its leader had
+become known among our infantry as the
+“Little Red Devil,” and one still hears him
+spoken of by the people who were in the
+trenches at that time. We had often tried
+to catch him on one of these expeditions,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_146">146</span>
+but he and his scarlet followers always
+chose a moment when our fighting patrols
+were engaged on another sector of the front.
+Then, dashing across the lines, the red
+Albatrosses would shoot down one of our
+older machines which we were employing
+then on observation work.</p>
+
+<p>This morning I had an extra feeling of
+bitterness toward the Richtofens for their
+mean attempt to trick, and I went after
+them again with a feeling of exalted strength.
+I was above them as before, and, after one
+dive, they turned away east and gave up
+their idea of setting upon our artillery
+workers. I considered it unwise to go down
+and actually mix in the middle of them, as
+they were all good men. So I contented
+myself with harassing them from above, as
+I had done in the previous fight with the
+quintet that morning. They were apparently
+much annoyed at this, and kept steadily
+on their way east. I followed for quite a
+distance, and then sat over them as one by
+one they all went down and landed.</p>
+
+<p>On the way home I had a skirmish with
+two German artillery machines, but we did<span class="pagenum" id="Page_147">147</span>
+not get within very close range of each
+other and nothing happened. They were
+frightened a bit, none the less, and sped
+away. In a little while, however, they
+plucked up courage and came back to resume
+their work of spotting for the German
+guns. This time I tried going at them
+from the front, and it proved exciting, to say
+the least. I approached the leading Hun
+of the pair head on, opening fire when about
+200 yards away. He also opened fire about
+the same time. We drew nearer and nearer
+together, both firing as fast and direct as
+we could. I could see the Hun bullets
+going about 3 feet to one side of me, passing
+between my upper and lower planes.
+My own were doing better work, and several
+times it seemed certain that some of them
+were hitting the front of the enemy machine.
+On we came, each doing over a hundred
+miles an hour, which would have meant a
+colliding impact of more than two hundred
+miles an hour. With big engines in front of
+us for protection, we were taking the risks
+of each other’s bullets. Thirty yards away
+we were both holding to our course, and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_148">148</span>
+then, much to my relief, be it confessed, the
+Hun dived, and I thought I had hit him. I
+turned quickly, but in doing so lost sight of
+him completely. Then a second later I
+saw him, some distance away, going down
+in a slight glide, evidently quite under control,
+but I think badly hit. The other
+machine followed him down and neither of
+them returned. I had very little ammunition
+left, but stayed on the lines another
+fifteen minutes hoping for one more
+fight.</p>
+
+<p>It came when I sighted one of my favourites—an
+enemy two-seater—at work. I got
+directly above him, then dived vertically,
+reserving my fire until I was very close.
+The enemy observer had his gun trained up
+at me, and the bullets were streaming past
+as I came down. I missed him on my dive,
+so shot by his tail, then “zoomed” up
+underneath and opened fire from the “blind
+spot” there.</p>
+
+<p>I don’t know what was the matter with
+my shooting this morning, for, with the
+exception of the machine I hit from the
+side, it seemed to have become a habit with<span class="pagenum" id="Page_149">149</span>
+my enemies to dive away from me and
+escape. I did not seem to be able to knock
+them out of control. This one, like the
+others, dived steeply, and though I followed
+and fired all of my remaining bullets after
+him, he continued in his long straight dive
+and landed safely in the corner of a field
+near the city of Lens. Two or three
+“Archie” batteries took “bites” at me as
+I crossed the lines for luncheon.</p>
+
+<p>Then came my thrilling adventure of
+the afternoon. The many experiences of the
+morning had put me in good humour for
+fighting, and immediately the midday meal
+was finished, I was up in the air again, with
+my squadron commander, to see if there
+were any Huns about looking for a bit of
+trouble. We patrolled along the lines for
+twenty minutes, but saw nothing in that
+time. Then, as I was leading, I headed
+further into enemy territory, and presently,
+to the south of us, we saw five Albatross
+scouts. We went after them, but before we
+had come within firing distance, we discovered
+four red Albatrosses just to our
+right. This latter quartette, I believe, was<span class="pagenum" id="Page_150">150</span>
+made up of Baron von Richtofen and three
+of his best men.</p>
+
+<p>However, although we knew who they
+were, we had been searching for a fight, and
+were feeling rather bored with doing nothing,
+so after the four we went. The Major
+reached them first and opened fire on the
+rear machine from behind. Immediately
+the leader of the scouts did a lightning turn
+and came back at the Major, firing at him
+and passing within two or three feet of his
+machine. In my turn I opened fire on the
+Baron, and in another half-moment found
+myself in the midst of what seemed to be a
+stampede of bloodthirsty animals. Everywhere
+I turned smoking bullets were jumping
+at me, and although I got in two or
+three good bursts at the Baron’s “red
+devil,” I was rather bewildered for two
+or three minutes, as I could not see
+what was happening to the Major and was
+not at all certain as to what was going to
+happen to me.</p>
+
+<p>It was a decided difference from the fighting
+of the morning. The Germans seemed
+to be out to avenge their losses, and certainly<span class="pagenum" id="Page_151">151</span>
+were in fighting trim. Around we went in
+cyclonic circles for several minutes, here a
+flash of the Hun machines, then a flash of
+silver as my squadron commander would
+whizz by. All the time I would be in the
+same mix-up myself, every now and then
+finding a red machine in front of me and
+getting in a round or two of quick shots. I
+was glad the Germans were scarlet and we
+were silver. There was no need to hesitate
+about firing when the right colour flitted
+by your nose. It was a lightning fight, and
+I have never been in anything just like it.
+Firing one moment, you would have to concentrate
+all your mind and muscle the next
+in doing a quick turn to avoid a collision.
+Once my gun jammed, and while manœuvring
+to the utmost of my ability to
+escape the direct fire of one of the ravenous
+Germans, I had to “fuss” with the weapon
+until I got it right again. I had just got
+going again when von Richtofen flashed by
+me and I let him have a short burst. As I
+did so, I saw up above me four more machines
+coming down to join in the fight. Being far
+inside the German lines, I at once decided<span class="pagenum" id="Page_152">152</span>
+they were additional Huns, so I “zoomed”
+up out of the fight to be free for a moment
+and have a look around. The moment I did
+this I saw the approaching machines were
+tri-planes, belonging to one of our naval
+squadrons, and they were coming for all
+they were worth to help us against the
+Albatrosses. The latter, however, had had
+enough of the fight by now, and at the
+moment I “zoomed” they dived and flew
+away toward the earth. I did not know
+this until I looked down to where the fight
+should still have been in progress. There
+was nothing to be seen. Everybody had
+disappeared, including the Major. It was
+a sad moment for me, for I felt I had surely
+lost him this time. After circling over the
+spot for five minutes or more and exchanging
+signals with the tri-planes, I started for
+home with a heavy heart.</p>
+
+<p>On the way I saw another machine approaching
+me, and got into fighting position
+in the event it should prove hostile. As
+we drew nearer together I recognized it as
+another Nieuport, and then, to my great
+joy, I realized it was the Major. He had<span class="pagenum" id="Page_153">153</span>
+flown west at top speed as soon as he saw
+the fight was over and I was not to be seen.
+He was afraid I had followed the Huns down
+to the ground in my excitement, and was
+very anxious as to what had happened to
+me. Upon recognizing each other we waved
+our hands in the air, then came close enough
+together to exchange broad grins. We flew
+side by side to the aerodrome and landed.
+I found my machine had been very badly
+shot about, one group of seven bullets having
+passed within an inch of me in one place.
+It had been a close shave, but a wonderful,
+soul-stirring fight.</p>
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_154">154</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p class="in0"><span class="firstword">The</span> first few days in May we spent escorting
+machines taking photographs. It was rather
+exciting work, for several times we went
+very long distances into Hunland and stayed
+over there for hours. It was also very nerve-racking
+work, as you listen constantly for
+the least break in the smooth running of
+your motor, knowing that if it fails you
+are too far from home ever to get there by
+gliding. At such times my thoughts always
+reverted to the ignominy one would feel in
+helplessly landing among the Germans and
+saying “Kamerad!” Far better to die in
+a fight, or even yield up the ghost to a
+despised “Archie,” than tamely submit to
+being taken prisoner. Then, too, all the
+time you are loafing about taking snapshots
+from the air, the anti-aircraft fire gets very
+fierce.</p>
+
+<p>On one occasion we went over to photograph<span class="pagenum" id="Page_155">155</span>
+an aerodrome in the vicinity of Douai,
+a city you can see from the top of Vimy
+Ridge on any clear day. We had with us
+in all about twenty machines, and were a
+very formidable party indeed. As luck
+would have it, we spied two Germans. With
+two or three other of our fighting pilots, I
+quickly dodged to one side to try to engage
+the Huns before they could see the whole
+crowd of us and be frightened away. But,
+no luck! They made off the minute we
+turned our noses in their direction. We proceeded
+over Douai, and in turning around
+once or twice, the machine actually taking
+the photographs was lost. I mean by lost
+that it got mixed up with the rest of us and
+it was practically impossible in that number
+of machines to pick it out again. The result
+was we went around and around in circles
+for half an hour trying to find out where it
+had gone. It was like an old-fashioned game
+of “Button, button, who’s got the button?”
+and was so amusing I had to laugh. Around
+and around we went. The strain began to
+get on the nerves, of course, as every minute
+seemed to be an hour, and we all felt we<span class="pagenum" id="Page_156">156</span>
+should be getting away from there as soon
+as possible. But when you are in great
+danger, the smallest things make a keen
+appeal to your sense of humour, and the
+idea of the whole twenty of us playing such
+a foolish game in such a dangerous spot
+could not help having its funny side. Several
+of the others, on landing, told me they had
+felt the same way about it, and had had
+many good laughs.</p>
+
+<p>Needless to say, the anti-aircraft guns
+under us were having the time of their unprincipled
+lives. They never had had such
+a huge bunch of good targets to shoot at,
+so they blazed into the midst of us with all
+the “hate” they had. But we had the luck,
+and hardly a machine was touched. We
+were flying at 13,000 feet, and that seemed
+lucky in itself. Many shells broke with loud
+bangs just under us and over us, but none
+at 13,000 feet. We were annoyed but not
+worried.</p>
+
+<p>Finally, somebody got fed up with all this
+running around in aerial circles, and started
+toward home. We had all been waiting for
+something like that to happen, and every one<span class="pagenum" id="Page_157">157</span>
+of us streaked off in the leader’s wake. We
+got back safely enough, but, to add to the
+fiasco of the expedition, it turned out that
+the man who was taking the photographs
+made some awful error and snapped the
+wrong places altogether. For a period of
+fully half an hour he had to listen patiently
+and quietly while the rest of us tried to
+think up a punishment to fit the crime.
+Later that afternoon we had to eat all our
+words, for while we were lunching and discussing
+the morning’s work, the photographer
+pilot, all alone and without further orders,
+had quietly gone over the lines, taken the
+proper pictures, and returned safely with
+them. It was a brave thing to do, and we
+admired him for it.</p>
+
+<p>The next day was a very successful one
+for me. I had several fights, and for one
+was later awarded the “Distinguished Service
+Order”—my second decoration. We
+had been taking photographs again, with
+another large escort, as on the day before,
+and were returning homeward when an enemy
+single-seater approached slightly below us.
+I went down and attacked him, and we fought<span class="pagenum" id="Page_158">158</span>
+for quite a while, exchanging shots now and
+then, with no result other than the escape of
+the enemy. The other machines had continued
+on their way and were nowhere to be
+seen when I climbed away from my unsuccessful
+duel. Being left alone, and of no further
+use to the photographers, I felt I might as
+well look around a bit. My search for enemy
+machines soon was rewarded. I came upon
+five of them doing artillery observation work.
+They were all two-seaters, and consequently
+my legitimate prey. The Huns were nicely
+arranged in two parties, one of two and the
+other of three. I decided that as the party
+of three was nearer, I would tackle it first.
+Remembering my former experience in diving
+into three enemy artillery machines, I
+was wary of a trap, but went after the bunch
+with a firm determination I would not
+make a “hash” of it. The trio made away
+as I approached. Furious at the thought
+that they should escape scot-free, I forgot
+my caution and went after them pell-mell.
+I didn’t care at the time whether there were
+any hostile fighting machines above me or
+not. I wanted to teach the cowardly two-seaters<span class="pagenum" id="Page_159">159</span>
+a justly deserved lesson. Catching
+up to within 200 yards of the rear one, I
+saw that all three were firing at me from
+their back guns. I was so much faster than
+the Huns I could zigzag on my course—wondering
+as I did so if I resembled an ocean
+greyhound dodging a submarine! Finally,
+I closed to within 20 yards of the fleeing
+Germans and let go at them. The rear
+machine was my easiest target. Soon I
+saw my bullets going into the observer’s body
+and I feel sure some of them must have
+passed on from him to the pilot who was
+seated directly in front. The observer’s
+face was white as a sheet, and, out of pure
+terror, I think, he had ceased to fire at me.
+The pilot now was gazing back over his
+shoulder and was too frightened to manœuvre
+his machine. He had turned into a
+sort of human rabbit, and was concerned
+only with running for his life. Fifteen
+rounds from my gun sufficed for that machine.
+Down it tumbled, a stricken and dying thing.</p>
+
+<p>As the other two machines were some
+distance off, I did a circle to see the falling
+Hun crash. When I did this, the other<span class="pagenum" id="Page_160">160</span>
+two suddenly returned underneath me and
+opened fire from a spot where I could not see
+them, one coming within a hundred yards.
+Almost at the same moment that they attacked,
+four enemy scouts came diving out
+of the clouds, two of them firing as they
+dived at me. I turned on the nearer of the
+two-seaters and, firing forty rounds at him
+from the side, managed to shoot him down.
+I then went straight at the four scouts,
+opening fire on one that was coming straight
+head-on. He swerved slightly at the last,
+and flashed by me. I ducked away into a
+cloud to consider the situation for a moment,
+but in the mist, in my excitement, I lost
+control of my machine and fell in a spinning
+nose-dive for quite a distance. When I
+flattened out at last, the enemy scouts had
+flown away, but there beneath me, still slowly
+spinning to his fate, was my second two-seater.
+Three of the missing scouts now
+appeared some distance above me. I decided
+it was not a very healthy spot, and
+made away for home, perfectly content
+with having added two more Hun scalps to
+my score.</p>
+
+<figure id="i_171" class="figcenter" style="max-width: 48em;">
+  <img src="images/i_171.jpg" width="3013" height="1896" alt="">
+  <figcaption class="caption">
+
+<p class="right">
+Canadian Official Photograph
+</p>
+
+<p>“Archie” at work.</p>
+  </figcaption>
+</figure>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_161">161</span></p>
+
+<p>It was great flying-weather, and next day
+I had four fights in forty-five minutes. I
+could have had more, but had to return for
+want of fuel and ammunition. First of all,
+I spotted two of my favourite two-seaters
+doing their daily observations, some three
+miles on the German side of the lines. I
+was very careful now about the way I approached
+these people, and went at it in a
+more or less scientific manner. Climbing to
+just under the top of a cloud, where I was
+more or less invisible, I watched them carefully
+for five whole minutes as they went
+back and forth on their beat, and I carefully
+figured out just where I could catch them
+when they were nearest our lines. I also
+kept a very close eye on some enemy fighting
+patrols lurking in the distance. Picking
+a moment when they were well away, I flew
+over some more sheltering clouds, then came
+down and dashed at the two Huns. I
+managed to get twenty rounds into the
+nearer one, and pretty good shots they were,
+too, but nothing seemed to happen. At
+least nothing happened to the Hun, but
+something went wrong with my engine, and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_162">162</span>
+fearing it would fail me altogether, I broke
+off the fight and made for home.</p>
+
+<p>Just after I made our lines, the engine
+began running perfectly, so I went back for
+my two-seaters. Only one of them remained.
+This convinced me that the other machine
+had been hit badly enough to make him
+descend. The one left behind was very wary,
+and I saw I could not get within two miles
+of him. So I gave him up as a bad job,
+and flew up and down the lines until I discovered
+another pair of two-seaters. These
+also proved to be shy and I chased them well
+back into their own country. It is discouraging
+work, and very aggravating, to
+chase machines that will not fight. For my
+part, I find that I get in a tremendous temper
+and am very apt to run unnecessary risks
+when I meet another enemy. It is a case
+of anything to relieve one’s feelings.</p>
+
+<p>The last twenty minutes of the three-quarters
+of an hour were spent first in stalking
+an enemy scout, that also escaped; then
+the two machines I had previously attacked
+in my second fight, some minutes before.
+But again I was unable to get within close<span class="pagenum" id="Page_163">163</span>
+range of them, although I finally flew above
+and got between them and their own aerodrome.
+I dashed at the two head-on, but
+finished my ammunition before I had done
+any damage.</p>
+
+<p>In the afternoon I had three more fights,
+the first one being very unsuccessful from
+my point of view, but certainly a very exciting
+affair. I was out with my own
+patrol, six machines strong, and we had
+not been on the lines very long before we met
+up with a lone Hun two-seater. From a
+distance he looked like one of the shy fellows
+I had been chasing most of the morning,
+and I led the patrol straight at him, quite
+confident in my own mind that he was going
+to be an easy victim. I was convinced of
+this when at first he appeared inclined to
+run away. I opened fire at him at 200
+yards, whereupon a marvellous thing happened.
+The German pilot turned in a flash
+and came head-on into the six of us, opening
+fire with two guns. Much to our amazement,
+he flew right through the centre of our
+formation. The unexpected audacity of the
+Hun caught us entirely off our guard. It<span class="pagenum" id="Page_164">164</span>
+was a bad bit of work for us to let him go
+right through us, and we were all deeply
+disgusted. We turned on the fellow with
+all the fury there was in us, but he was
+quite ready for us. We seemed to be
+fighting very badly, and the honours were
+not coming our way. The fight lasted
+about three minutes, and during that time
+I, for one, was caught badly by the German.
+While trying to correct a stoppage in my
+gun, he turned on me and got in a very
+fierce burst of fire, some of the bullets passing
+close to my body. He also got one of
+the others a few seconds later trying to do
+the same thing, and then, to cap the climax,
+he turned away, broke off the combat, and
+escaped as free as a bird, with probably only
+a few bullet-holes in his machine. He must
+have been a very fine pilot and a very
+brave man, for he put up a wonderful fight,
+and I have not the slightest hesitation in
+saying he probably enjoyed it much more
+than we did.</p>
+
+<p>A little later I was flying around when I
+saw dead beneath me a green-and-black
+machine, with huge black crosses painted<span class="pagenum" id="Page_165">165</span>
+on it. It was one of the new type of enemy
+scouts, and, as I later discovered, had a
+very good man piloting it. I dived at him,
+but he did a great turn, climbing at the
+same time, and by a clever manœuvre managed
+to get directly behind me. I had a
+hard time getting rid of him, as he had me
+in a very awkward position, and every
+second for several minutes I expected that
+one of his bullets which were passing close
+by me would find its mark.</p>
+
+<p>But even in a perilous time like this my
+sense of humour would out, and I thought
+of a verse from “The Lobster Quadrille”:</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poetry">
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent0">“Won’t you walk a little faster?”</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">Said a whiting to a snail;</div>
+    <div class="verse indent0">“There’s a porpoise close behind me,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent2">And he’s treading on my tail!”</div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="in0">I did not like that Hun porpoise at all,
+and he was treading on my tail like the very
+shadow of Death itself. However, he made
+a slight mistake on one of our turns, and a
+few seconds later I got into a position where
+the fight began anew on rather different
+terms. For several minutes we flew around<span class="pagenum" id="Page_166">166</span>
+in a circle, both getting in occasional bursts
+of fire. Out of the corner of my eye I saw
+some scarlet German machines approaching,
+so I snatched at an opportunity that suddenly
+appeared and escaped.</p>
+
+<p>A few minutes later, on returning to that
+spot, I saw that the Hun scouts had found
+another one of our machines by itself, and
+were all attacking it. So I came down from
+above and created a momentary diversion by
+opening fire with my last ten rounds, and
+thus gave the British machine a chance to
+escape. Our pilot slid speedily out of the
+fray.</p>
+
+<p>We were up late that night attending a
+show given for the squadron by a travelling
+troupe of concert people from the Army
+Service Corps. It was past midnight when
+I got to bed, and I was up again at four,
+having an early-morning job on hand. I
+will never forget the orderly who used to
+wake me in those days. He positively enjoyed
+it.</p>
+
+<p>After a cup of hot tea and a biscuit, four
+of us left the ground shortly after five. The
+sun in the early mornings, shining in such<span class="pagenum" id="Page_167">167</span>
+direct rays from the east, makes it practically
+impossible to see in that direction,
+so that these dawn adventures were not
+much of a pleasure. It meant that danger
+from surprise was very great, for the Huns,
+coming from the east with the sun at their
+back, could see us when we couldn’t see
+them. At any rate, one doesn’t feel one’s
+best at dawn, especially when one has had
+only four hours’ sleep. This was the case
+on this bright May morning, and to make
+matters worse there was quite a ground mist.
+The sun, reflecting on this, made seeing in
+any direction very difficult.</p>
+
+<p>We had been doing a patrol up and down
+the line for an hour and a quarter, at a very
+high altitude where it was cruelly cold, so
+I decided to lead the patrol down lower.
+There did not seem to be an enemy in the
+air, and for a moment I think my vigilance
+was relaxed. I had begun to dream a bit,
+when suddenly a burst of machine-gun fire
+awakened me to the fact that there was a
+war on. Not even taking time to look
+from whence it all came, I pulled my machine
+up and turned it like lightning, looking over<span class="pagenum" id="Page_168">168</span>
+my shoulder during the whirl. This instinctive
+manœuvre saved my life. An
+enemy machine, painted a beautiful silver,
+was coming vertically down at me firing.
+He just missed me with his bullets, and,
+“zooming” up again, he made a second
+dive. This time I pulled my machine back,
+and with my nose to the sky, I fired at the
+Hun as he came down. I then flew sidewise
+and evaded him that way. It had been a
+clear case of surprise so far as I was concerned,
+and I had a very narrow squeak
+from disaster.</p>
+
+<p>Altogether, there were five Huns in the
+attacking force, against the four of us. We
+were flying in diamond formation, and the
+pilot bringing up our rear had seen the Huns
+just before the attack, but not in time to
+warn us. Counting the five enemy pilots,
+he wondered which one of us was going to
+be attacked by two Huns instead of one?
+The next moment he saw the Germans split
+up as they dived at us, and he was the unfortunate
+one to draw the two. It was a
+lucky thing for the rest of us, taken wholly
+by surprise, that we each had but a single<span class="pagenum" id="Page_169">169</span>
+machine to deal with. Our rear-guard was
+better prepared, and although we all had
+our troubles, we managed to clear away
+without injury.</p>
+
+<p>Next day we had rather a dramatic touch.
+After the morning’s work we were sitting at
+luncheon and the second course had just
+been served, when a telephone message came
+through that two enemy machines were at
+work on the lines. They were directing
+artillery fire of several hostile batteries on
+some of our important points. The request
+came through from the front line to send
+somebody out at once and drive the undesirables
+away. Talk about Wellington
+at the battle of Waterloo! This had that
+beaten in every way. We felt like a lot
+of firemen, and in a very few minutes after
+we got the message another pilot and I
+were out over the trenches. Five minutes
+later we were engaged in deadly combat
+with the two enemy machines. They had
+seen us as we approached. We were hungry
+and were anxious to get back to our
+muttons. So there was no shilly-shallying
+about the fight—it was a case of going in<span class="pagenum" id="Page_170">170</span>
+and finishing it in the shortest possible order.
+So the two of us waded in side by side, opening
+fire on the rear enemy. With our first
+burst of fire, it dived on its nose, did a
+couple of turns as it fell, and finally crashed
+into a field beside the river. We then
+turned our attention to Hun No. 2, but he
+was a mile away by this time and winging
+it for home as fast as ever he could. We
+were willing to waste ten minutes more
+away from the festive board to have a go at
+him, but he showed no sign of returning,
+and we streaked home to our interrupted
+meal. It had all been very short and
+sweet, and most successful.</p>
+
+<p>I had now come to the conclusion that
+to be successful in fighting in the air, two
+things were required above all others. One
+was accuracy in shooting, and the second was
+to use one’s head and take no unnecessary
+risks. Consequently my plans from about
+this time forward were to take a minimum
+of risks, and whenever things looked at all
+doubtful or bad, immediately to make my
+escape and wait patiently for another opportunity.
+The patience part in carrying<span class="pagenum" id="Page_171">171</span>
+out this campaign was the hardest, but I
+managed to control myself, and found it
+much more effective than constantly blundering
+into danger like a bull in a china-shop.</p>
+
+<p>For instance, one day I saw a single enemy
+scout flying at a tremendous altitude. I
+climbed up carefully some distance from
+him, and got between him and the sun;
+then, waiting until he was heading in exactly
+the opposite direction, I came down with
+tremendous speed and managed to slip
+underneath him without even being seen.
+I could make out each mark on the bottom
+of his machine as I crept closer and closer.
+My gun was all ready, but I withheld its fire
+until I came to the range I wanted—inside
+of 20 yards. It was rather delicate work
+flying so close under the swift Hun, but
+he had no idea that I was in existence,
+much less sitting right below him. I carefully
+picked out the exact spot where I
+knew the pilot was sitting, took careful
+aim, and fired. Twenty tracer bullets went
+into that spot. The machine immediately
+lurched to one side and fell.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_172">172</span></p>
+
+<p>I had quickly to skid my machine to one
+side to avoid being hit by the falling Hun.
+After he had passed me a little way, I saw
+him smoking. Then he burst into flames.
+That pilot never knew what happened to
+him. Death came to him from nowhere.</p>
+
+<p>Shortly after this, learning by accident
+that a patrol from another squadron was
+going across to take photographs, I offered
+to accompany them as escort, and was
+accepted. The anti-aircraft fire that day
+was really terrible. I flew well above the
+photographers and was more or less out of
+reach of the “Archies,” but the other
+machines were getting it hammer and tongs.
+All got through the barrage, however, and
+we proceeded to get our pictures. Then we
+headed straight for home. About this time
+I noticed several of the “little red devils”
+flying about underneath us, so I watched
+them carefully, suspecting they were climbing
+to attack some of the photography
+machines. I also began to climb so as to be
+practically out of sight in the blue sky, and
+I managed to fool them altogether. Two of
+the devils soon came at one of our machines,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_173">173</span>
+and at the same time I dived into them.
+One of the pair turned away, but I managed
+to get in a good shot at the second one at
+30 yards. He immediately flew out of
+control, and I watched him falling for what
+seemed to be a long time. I was now down
+to the level of the photographers and remained
+with them for the rest of the trip.
+The “Archies” gave us another hot greeting
+as we recrossed the lines. I kept dodging
+about as quickly as I could, for the fire
+was too close to be pleasant. Shells were
+bursting everywhere. There was no use
+turning to the right, for you would stick
+your nose into two or three exploding shells
+in that direction. And there was no use
+turning to the left, for three or four would
+be bursting there. They seemed to fill
+every nook and corner of the air. I was
+greatly tempted to put my engine full out
+and leave the patrol to get home by itself,
+but I did not. I stuck with the heavier
+machines, dodging around them like a young
+sparrow among a lot of crows.</p>
+
+<p>The photographic machines were badly
+hit, and three of them had been so damaged<span class="pagenum" id="Page_174">174</span>
+they could not be used again. My own
+machine was hit in several places, and I
+never looked back upon that volunteer excursion
+as one of the pleasant experiences
+in my young life. This was the last fighting
+I had for two weeks, as the next day I went
+to England on two weeks’ leave.</p>
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_175">175</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XIII">CHAPTER XIII</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p class="in0"><span class="firstword">When</span> I left for my leave to England, I was
+not very keen on going. The excitement of
+the chase had a tight hold on my heart-strings,
+and I felt that the only thing I
+wanted was to stay right at it and fight and
+fight and fight in the air. I don’t think I
+was ever happier in my life. It seemed that
+I had found the one thing I loved above all
+others. To me it was not a business or a
+profession, but just a wonderful game. To
+bring down a machine did not seem to me to
+be killing a man; it was more as if I was
+just destroying a mechanical target, with
+no human being in it. Once or twice the
+idea that a live man had been piloting the
+machine would occur and recur to me, and
+it would worry me a bit. My sleep would
+be spoiled perhaps for a night. I did not
+relish the idea even of killing Germans, yet,
+when in a combat in the air, it seemed more<span class="pagenum" id="Page_176">176</span>
+like any other kind of sport, and to shoot
+down a machine was very much the same
+as if one were shooting down clay pigeons.
+One had the great satisfaction of feeling
+that he had hit the target and brought it
+down; that one was victorious again.</p>
+
+<p>When I reached England, however, I
+found I was in a very nervous condition.
+I could not be still. After a week there, in
+which I enjoyed myself tremendously, I
+found I was getting quieter, and realized
+that my leave was probably doing me a
+world of good. My last week of leave I
+enjoyed without stint, every minute seeming
+better than the one before. To make it
+still more ideal, I did not have the usual
+dread of going back to France—I was looking
+forward to it. I realized that this short
+rest had quieted my nerves and had left
+me in a much better state of health, so that
+when the two weeks were up and the day
+came for my return I gladly got on the train
+leaving Charing Cross, and all day looked
+forward to my return to the squadron. By
+great luck, I managed to catch an automobile
+going in my direction from Boulogne, and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_177">177</span>
+arrived at the aerodrome the same night I
+had left London. I felt like a small boy
+returning home for his holidays. I was
+plied with questions as to what “good old
+England” looked like, what I had done
+and what was happening in “Blighty”;
+and in my turn I was full of questions as
+to what had happened in the squadron while
+I was away. Many things had: several
+people had been killed, and quite a number
+of Hun machines had been shot down by
+our pilots. A great many exciting and a
+great many amusing fights in the air were
+related.</p>
+
+<p>It was typical of the attitude of these
+comrades of mine that when a man had
+been in an exceedingly tight corner and
+had managed to squeeze out of it, it was
+later related as a very amusing, not as a
+very terrible, incident, and as the narrator
+would tell his story the others would shriek
+with laughter at the tale of how nearly he
+had been hit and how “scared” he had
+been. It was such a wonderful way to take
+life that, upon looking back at it, I feel that
+nothing the future can ever hold for me can<span class="pagenum" id="Page_178">178</span>
+excel those wonderful days. Face to face
+with death every day, but always with the
+best of comrades and the most tried of
+friends, it has left a wonderful memory
+with me.</p>
+
+<p>The day after rejoining the squadron, I
+did my first job at 9 o’clock in the morning.
+I must admit I felt very funny in the machine.
+I seemed to have lost all “feel” of it and
+could not turn or fly it properly at all.
+However, that day I had two jobs, and by
+the end of the second luckily had run into
+no exciting episodes.</p>
+
+<p>Then came the reaction. I felt a wonderful
+thrill at being back in the air again,
+and handling my beloved Nieuport. It
+seemed that nothing was dangerous, and
+that to throw this machine about in the air
+was just the best sport that had ever been
+invented. I remember racing along close
+to the ground, seeing how close I could
+make my wing-tips come to the sheds and
+trees without hitting them. It was all just
+a wonderful thrill, and no thought of peril
+entered my head. That evening I went up
+and spent an hour in flying, just for the pure<span class="pagenum" id="Page_179">179</span>
+pleasure of it. Life was as sweet as it could
+be, and I saw the world through rose-coloured
+glasses.</p>
+
+<p>That night the romance of our life at the
+front was brought home to me again. We
+spent the evening after dark standing around
+a piano, while one of our number played
+popular songs, the remainder singing in
+loud and varied keys, going on the principle
+that if you cannot sing, at least you can
+make a joyful noise.</p>
+
+<p>About 9 o’clock a party of ten others
+arrived from a squadron stationed near us,
+and we had more music and songs with them.
+Everybody was happy; flying and fighting
+had been forgotten for the moment, and
+war was a thing far, far away. Toward the
+end of the party we went to the farmyard
+near by, appropriated some small pigs only
+a few months old, and placed them in the
+room of one of our pilots who was dining
+out. Then, about 11 o’clock, when he had
+come back, we went into the next room to
+listen through the thin partition to his
+remarks when he entered his pig-filled
+boudoir. In a small space about 10 by 6 over<span class="pagenum" id="Page_180">180</span>
+fifteen of us were jammed anxiously waiting
+for the climax of the evening. In the other
+room the little pigs were grunting away
+merrily, and it was all we could do to keep
+from roaring with laughter. It was pitch
+black, and with the funny little squeals
+coming through the partition there would
+occasionally be a bit of a scamper, for although
+we at first placed the pigs on the
+bed, on looking over the partition I saw
+they were moving around the room in
+formation, one of their number evidently
+having assigned himself the position of
+leader of the pork patrol.</p>
+
+<p>Unfortunately, the episode fell through
+miserably, as the pigs took up a station near
+the door, and when the owner of the room
+returned and opened it he walked across
+to light his lamp. The pigs, seeing the
+opening before he had seen them, made a
+dash and managed to get out, with a great
+chorus of squealing. They hid under the
+huts, and it took the rest of us several hours
+to find them and take them back to their
+mother.</p>
+
+<p>After going to bed, I was awakened by<span class="pagenum" id="Page_181">181</span>
+one of my dogs scampering out of the hut.
+I listened for a minute and heard voices outside,
+got up and walked out in my pyjamas.
+It was a perfect moonlight night, without
+a breath of wind, and bright as could be.
+Outside two or three others were standing
+in pyjamas, and after asking what was the
+matter I was told there was a German
+machine overhead. Listening carefully, I
+could hear the beat of a Mercédès engine
+about a mile away. We could not see the
+Hun, but could hear him quite distinctly as
+he flew past. Then came the explosions as
+a few bombs were dropped, and then more
+explosions as the anti-aircraft guns located
+the moonlight marauder and began to fire.
+We could see little bursts of flame as the
+shells exploded high in the air. It was a
+beautiful show. The light was too bright
+even to see the stars, but these fierce little
+bursts of flame dotted the sky first in one
+spot, then in another, and gradually travelled
+in a line towards the trenches, as the
+enemy made in that direction. He got
+away safely, however, and we returned to
+bed.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_182">182</span></p>
+
+<p>In our home in a beautiful green orchard,
+our life was full of the most extraordinary
+contrasts. One minute we were as far
+removed from the war as if we were in
+South America, and an hour later we would
+be fighting for our lives or carrying on in
+some way directly connected with the mad
+world-struggle. It all added to the lure
+of life and somehow made the real fighting,
+when it came, seem less real and tragic.</p>
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_183">183</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XIV">CHAPTER XIV</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p class="in0"><span class="firstword">The</span> second day after my return I began
+another three months of strenuous battles.
+The squadron had been assigned a new kind
+of work to do, in addition to regular patrol.
+This lasted throughout a great part of the
+month of June, and gave us some very
+strenuous mornings, although the afternoons
+were generally easier.</p>
+
+<p>My first fight occurred in the early morning,
+about 7 o’clock, when I was leading a
+patrol. The clouds were very low, being
+about 4,000 feet, the lower part of each
+cloud having a thin hanging mist about it.
+This made it possible to fly just in the mist,
+without being seen at more than 200 yards.</p>
+
+<p>I had been gazing far into enemy territory,
+and suddenly saw five enemy scouts
+dive out of the clouds, then, after coming
+in our direction for a moment or two, dive
+back into the mist. I thought they were<span class="pagenum" id="Page_184">184</span>
+trying to surprise us, and crawled up as
+close to the clouds as I could, heading in
+their direction. Suddenly they loomed up
+just in front of us, and evidently were more
+surprised than we were. I only managed
+to get in a short burst, when my machine
+gun jammed hopelessly; but the remainder
+of the patrol gave chase to the Huns as they
+turned to run and scattered them helter-skelter.
+One man appeared to be hit, and
+one of my men went after him in a vertical
+dive to 1,000 feet from the ground, when
+the enemy suddenly regained control, and
+darted across his own lines, escaping.</p>
+
+<p>Later in the day I went out by myself,
+and, flying over Vimy Ridge and Lens, was
+watching a ground battle taking place there,
+when suddenly I saw a single scout of the
+enemy underneath me. He did not see
+me, and I dived at him and managed to fall
+into the much-desired position just behind
+his tail. I opened fire, and my tracer bullets
+could be seen going all around the pilot’s
+seat. I had considerable speed from my
+dive, and was going much faster than he
+was, so whirled past him. Then, to avoid<span class="pagenum" id="Page_185">185</span>
+getting him behind me, I “zoomed” up
+and, after reaching 500 feet above, made a
+quick turn to see what had happened. To
+this day I have not the faintest idea what
+happened. My enemy entirely disappeared
+from view. I looked all around underneath,
+and everywhere else, but could not see him.
+Later, I telephoned to the anti-aircraft
+batteries and infantry stations near the
+front-line trenches, but they could give no
+information. That particular Hun must have
+dissolved.</p>
+
+<p>Ten minutes later I had another fight.
+I had seen, some distance away, two of the
+enemy. They were fighting machines, so
+I reconnoitred carefully, and a little later
+discovered two more Huns were flying 2,000
+feet above them. I climbed up, and looked
+carefully from a distance at these; then
+climbed a little higher, with the idea of
+attacking them, when I suddenly saw two
+more Huns 3,000 feet above the second
+pair. It was a layer formation, and a
+favourite trap of the Huns, their idea being
+that our machines would come along and
+attack the lower pair, in which case the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_186">186</span>
+middle pair would come down on top of
+them, leaving the highest pair in reserve.
+This had been tried innumerable times, and
+had been more or less successful, but, long
+since, our people had become wise and
+always watched for anything of that sort.
+By pure luck, that morning, I saw the top
+pair, and, flying away off to one side, climbed
+as fast as I could until 2,000 feet above
+them; then followed along. I was quite
+certain there was no fourth pair, and also
+knew that the third pair would be very keen
+on watching underneath them to see that
+their comrades were not attacked. It was
+a case of the trappers trapped; and, successful
+on this occasion, I was always on the
+look-out for the same sort of thing after
+that day, and succeeded in bringing down
+some of the top-side people on several other
+occasions.</p>
+
+<p>This day I dived down at the top pair,
+one of which was flying directly behind the
+other. I did not touch my trigger until I
+was fifty yards from him; then opened a
+stiff fire. This machine, as on the previous
+time I had used a similar trick, knew nothing<span class="pagenum" id="Page_187">187</span>
+of what was coming to him at all. He also
+probably never knew what hit him, because,
+slipping to one side, his machine went into a
+spin and fell completely out of control. I
+did not wait to attack the other man, as I
+was underneath him; and by the time he had
+turned to see what was happening, I was a
+quarter of a mile away, and going for home
+as fast as possible. It was the first machine
+to my credit since my return from England,
+and I was greatly pleased.</p>
+
+<p>By this time I had become very ambitious,
+and was hoping to get a large number of
+machines officially credited to me before I
+left France. With this object in view, I
+planned many little expeditions of my own,
+and, with the use of great patience, I was
+very successful in one or two.</p>
+
+<p>The next day I was out with my patrol
+again in the morning, and met six enemy
+scouts. There were six of us as well, but
+in the earlier part of the “scrap” which
+immediately followed, my gun, which seemed
+to be causing me a lot of trouble, again
+jammed, and I signalled to the others that
+I had to leave the fight. I dived away, and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_188">188</span>
+landed on an aerodrome near by to correct
+the jam.</p>
+
+<p>Three-quarters of an hour later I was again
+in the air, but could not find the patrol, so
+I flew up over Vimy Ridge. There was one
+of my old friends, a big, fat two-seater, and
+I went after him with joy in my soul. Three
+times I managed to get in a burst of fire,
+diving once from straight above and once
+from either side, but I did not seem to be able
+to hit him at all.</p>
+
+<p>Glancing suddenly over my shoulder, I
+saw two enemy scouts coming to the rescue
+from above. They had been sitting away
+up in the blue sky, in order to protect this
+machine, and, luckily for me, had not seen
+me sooner. I cleared off, and carefully
+thought how I was to get my revenge. Nothing
+in the world but that fat two-seater
+attracted my attention. I was annoyed at
+having missed him, after such good chances,
+and was determined I was at least going to
+have another good go at him before giving
+up. The only trouble was the two enemy
+scouts above, and I did not know how to
+get rid of them. They had seen me,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_189">189</span>
+and probably had their eye on me at the
+moment.</p>
+
+<p>I flew away, and came back in five minutes.
+Luck was with me; another one of
+our machines had flown slightly above the
+two enemy scouts, who had turned and fled
+from him. He had chased them, and they
+had made a detour, evading him. All this
+I took in at a glance, and saw that they were
+trying to get back to protect their two-seater
+comrade, and had no desire to fight,
+themselves. Seeing my opportunity, as the
+two-seater did not seem to know that the
+scouts had temporarily deserted him, I dived
+at him again, and this time closed up to
+within 50 yards before opening fire. Then,
+taking an accurate aim, I pulled the trigger.
+I can remember to this day how carefully
+I aimed that time. I was dead behind him,
+and I picked out the finest point in the
+pilot’s body where I wanted my bullets to
+hit. The observer in the two-seater ceased
+firing at me a moment before I opened, and
+began to work frantically at his gun. It
+had the jamming habit, too. A few rounds
+were enough. The machine put its nose<span class="pagenum" id="Page_190">190</span>
+down, dived vertically a short distance, then
+went into an uncontrolled spinning dive,
+and I watched it as it fell racing down towards
+the ground, with the engine full on.
+As is always the case, it seemed to take an
+age before it reached the ground. Finally,
+it crashed into the centre of a village, striking
+between two houses.</p>
+
+<p>Ten minutes later I had climbed up and
+was above the two scouts, so decided to
+give them at least a scare. I opened fire
+at long range, and, for a moment, thought
+I had hit one of them. He went into a
+spin, but 2,000 feet below flattened out and
+flew away. The other one climbed and I
+could not catch him, so turned and flew
+north.</p>
+
+<p>Another two-seater, who had been flying
+along the lines, was now 3,000 feet above
+me. I opened fire at him from underneath,
+at very long range, but, of course, could not
+hit, the range being too long.</p>
+
+<p>Many exciting fights occurred with the
+machines doing artillery observation. They
+were a very difficult proposition. They knew
+for a certainty they would be attacked, and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_191">191</span>
+would fly in threes and fours, or more, going
+about on their beat all together, and helping
+their own lines, and at a height of 3,000
+feet. It made it very difficult for us to
+attack, as, the height being low, we would
+have to make a dash across the lines at
+them, and then back again. Over and over
+again one would carefully figure out where
+they would be nearest the lines, then, at
+that moment, dash across at full speed.
+The enemy, immediately upon seeing the
+anti-aircraft shells burst around you, would
+turn east and fly towards home, going as
+fast as they could, and at the same time
+losing height. It meant that really to destroy
+or damage them, one had to fly ten or
+twelve miles in to catch them; then they
+would only be at a height of some 500
+or 1,000 feet. This was our task. The
+anti-aircraft fire was terrific, going in not
+as bad as coming back; but the moment we
+turned to come home all the guns in the
+neighbourhood would open at us, and, if
+we were low enough, we would also be
+subjected to the most intense machine-gun
+fire from the ground.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_192">192</span></p>
+
+<p>This did not occur once a week; it was a
+thing that happened to each one of us three
+and four times, or even more, in the course
+of a morning’s work, and was the most
+trying job we had to do. Most of the fights
+followed the same lines, three or four of us
+crossing at full speed, zigzagging slightly
+in our course to upset the aim of the
+“Archies,” and then following closely the
+enemy machines, which were all the time
+directing a steady machine-gun fire at us.
+Our object was more to frighten them away
+than really to bring them down. Then
+would come a quick turn, and a dash back
+home. This would be very hard to do. One
+would turn suddenly to the right or left,
+trying to evade the bursting shells, but they
+were cracking on all sides. It would seem
+that one could not possibly get through
+them, and the thought that one little bit
+of shell in the engine would put the whole
+machine out of business was enough to
+give anybody nerves. As it was, we were
+nearly always hit by small fragments, but
+this was considered nothing, and, of course,
+no reason for not liking the job. My previous<span class="pagenum" id="Page_193">193</span>
+experience in escorting the photography
+machines had taught me that other people
+have to stand anti-aircraft fire as well as
+ourselves, and for them, being larger and
+slower, it is a thousand times worse.</p>
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_194">194</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XV">CHAPTER XV</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p class="in0"><span class="firstword">My</span> record of machines brought down was
+now in the vicinity of twenty, and I saw I
+had a rare chance of really getting a lot
+before going on my next leave—at the end
+of my second three months at the front.</p>
+
+<p>With this object in view I planned an
+expedition into the enemy country, to attack
+an enemy aerodrome. I had carefully
+thought it out, and came to the conclusion
+that if one could get to an aerodrome when
+there were some machines on the ground
+and none in the air, it would be an easy
+matter to shoot them down the moment
+they would attempt to come up. It would
+be necessary for them to take off straight
+into the wind, if there was a strong wind at
+all, so I could not be surprised that way,
+and would be able to hit them if I came low
+enough, before they would get a chance to
+manœuvre or turn out of my way.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_195">195</span></p>
+
+<p>I planned this expedition after much
+thought, and set it for June 2nd, as that was
+to be my day off. Dawn was the hour I
+considered advisable, as there would be
+very few machines in the air, and I would
+have a great chance of evading trouble on
+the way to the aerodrome. I spent my
+spare moments, the next few days, arranging
+the details.</p>
+
+<p>In the meantime I had several more fights.
+On May 31st I went out in the morning
+about 8 o’clock, and the sky seemed deserted.
+However, I crossed over into enemy
+territory, and in a few minutes sighted two
+machines. They were flying south. I followed,
+and suddenly they began to spiral
+down. Apparently they had just finished
+their time in the air, and were coming down
+to land. So I flew as quickly as I could, and
+reached the nearest one, whom I attacked,
+firing a burst from 50 yards range. I
+missed him completely, I think. He turned,
+and we had quite a fight, lasting four or
+five minutes. Luckily, his companion had
+not seen us, and had kept on going down.
+My opponent seemed a very good man, and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_196">196</span>
+every time, just as I thought I was going
+to get in a burst of fire, he would make some
+clever manœuvre and evade me altogether,
+with the result that I was having a very
+hard time myself, and had to keep my eyes
+open so that he would not get a good shot
+at me. For a moment or two I was a bit
+worried, but suddenly I managed to get
+slightly behind him, and at a favourable angle,
+only 15 yards away. I pulled the trigger,
+and his machine fell out of control. Much
+pleased, I waited over the spot to see him
+crash—which he did.</p>
+
+<p>The next morning, remembering my bad
+shooting in the beginning of this fight, I
+spent some extra time on the target at the
+aerodrome. During that day I went out
+no less than four times, looking for a fight,
+but in only one case did I even get near
+enough to open fire at an enemy machine;
+that time only getting within 150 yards of
+it. Two of us went after him, but, as usual,
+he decided that it was not healthy, and
+putting his engine full on, dived away as
+quickly as he could go, to the tune of our
+machine guns behind him. However, it<span class="pagenum" id="Page_197">197</span>
+had no result except to frighten him. He
+did not return. The remainder of that day
+all the German machines seemed very nervous,
+and we could not get within range of
+any of them.</p>
+
+<p>Now came the day planned for my expedition.
+I wrote my name on the blackboard,
+the night before, to be called at 3 o’clock,
+and sat down for the last time to consider
+exactly if the job was worth the risk. However,
+as nothing like it had been done before,
+I knew that I would strike the Huns by
+surprise, and, considering that, I decided the
+risk was not nearly so great as it seemed, and
+that I might be able to get four or five more
+machines to my credit, in one great swoop.</p>
+
+<p>At 3 o’clock I was called and got up. It
+was pitch-black. I dressed, and went in to
+tell two of my friends that I was off. They
+were not entirely in favour of the expedition,
+and said so again. Notwithstanding
+this, I went on to the aerodrome, and got
+away just as the first streaks of dawn were
+showing in the upper sky.</p>
+
+<p>I flew straight across the lines, towards
+the aerodrome I had planned to attack, and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_198">198</span>
+coming down low, decided to carry out my
+plan and stir them up with a burst of
+machine-gun fire into their hangar sheds.
+But, on reaching the place, I saw there was
+nothing on the ground. Everyone must
+have been either dead asleep or else the
+station was absolutely deserted. Greatly
+disappointed, I decided I would try the
+same stunt some other day on another
+aerodrome, which I would have to select.</p>
+
+<p>In the meantime, for something to do, I
+flew along low over the country, in the hope
+of coming on some camp or group of troops
+so as to scatter them. I felt that the danger
+was nil, as most of the crews of the guns
+which ordinarily would fire at me would
+still be asleep, and I might as well give any
+Huns I could find a good fright. I was in
+rather a bad temper at having my carefully
+laid plan fall through so quickly, and nothing
+would have pleased me better than
+to have run across a group of fat Huns drilling
+in a field, or something of that sort.
+However, nothing appeared, and I was just
+thinking of turning and going home, or of
+climbing up to see if there were some Huns<span class="pagenum" id="Page_199">199</span>
+in the upper sky, when ahead, and slightly
+to one side of me, I saw the sheds of another
+aerodrome, I at once decided that here
+was my chance, although it was not a very
+favourable one, as the aerodrome was pretty
+far back from the lines. To make good my
+escape from this place would not be as easy
+as I had hoped. Furthermore, I was not
+even certain where I was, and that was my
+greatest worry, as I was a bit afraid that if
+I had any bad fights I might have trouble
+in finding my way back. Scurrying along
+close to the ground, zigzagging here and
+there, one’s sense of direction becomes
+slightly vague.</p>
+
+<p>Another half-minute and I was over the
+aerodrome, about 300 feet up. On the
+ground were seven German machines, and
+in my first glance I saw that some of them
+actually had their engines running. Mechanics
+were standing about in groups.
+Then I saw a thing which surprised me very
+much—six of the machines were single-seaters,
+and one a two-seater. I was not
+very anxious for the two-seater to come up
+to attack me, as in taking off he would have<span class="pagenum" id="Page_200">200</span>
+a certain amount of protection from behind,
+with his observer, while the single-seater
+could have none. However, in this, luck
+also favoured me, as the two-seater did not
+move at all.</p>
+
+<p>I pointed my nose towards the ground,
+and opened fire with my gun, scattering the
+bullets all around the machines, and coming
+down to 50 feet in doing so. I do not know
+how many men I hit, or what damage was
+done, except that one man, at least, fell,
+and several others ran to pick him up.
+Then, clearing off to one side, I watched the
+fun. I had forgotten by this time that
+they would, of course, have machine guns
+on the aerodrome, and as I was laughing
+to myself, as they tore around in every
+direction on the ground, like people going
+mad or rabbits scurrying about, I heard the
+old familiar rattle of the quick-firers on me.
+I did not dare go too far away, however, as
+then I would not be able to catch the
+machines as they left the ground, so turning
+quickly and twisting about, I did my best
+to evade the fire from the ground. Looking
+at my planes, I saw that the guns were<span class="pagenum" id="Page_201">201</span>
+doing pretty good shooting. There were
+several holes in them already, and this made
+me turn and twist all the more. Then one
+machine suddenly began to “taxi” off
+down the aerodrome. It increased its speed
+quickly, and I immediately tore down after
+it. I managed to get close on its tail, when
+it was just above the ground, and opened
+fire from dead behind it. There was no
+chance of missing, and I was as cool as
+could be. Just fifteen rounds, and it side-slipped
+to one side, then crashed on the
+aerodrome underneath. I was now keyed
+up to the fight, and turning quickly, saw
+another machine just off the ground. Taking
+careful aim at it, I fired from longer
+range than before, as I did not want to
+waste the time of going up close. For one
+awful moment I saw my bullets missing, and
+aimed still more carefully, all the time
+striving to get nearer. The Hun saw I was
+catching him up, and pushed his nose down;
+then, gazing over his shoulder at the moment
+I was firing at him, he crashed into some
+trees near the aerodrome. I think I hit
+him just before he came to the trees, as<span class="pagenum" id="Page_202">202</span>
+my tracers were then going in an accurate
+line.</p>
+
+<p>I again turned towards the aerodrome.
+This time my heart sank, because two
+machines were taking off at the same time,
+and in slightly different directions. It was
+the one thing I had dreaded. There was
+not much wind, and it was possible for them
+to do this. I had made up my mind, before,
+that if they attempted to do this I would
+immediately make good my escape, but I
+had counted on being higher. However,
+true to my intention, I began to climb. One
+of the enemy machines luckily climbed away
+at some distance, while the other made up
+straight after me. At 1,000 feet, and only
+a few hundred yards from the aerodrome, I
+saw that he was catching me, so turned on
+him and opened fire. We made about two
+circuits around each other, neither getting
+a very good shot, but in the end I managed
+to get in a short burst of fire, and this
+machine went crashing to the ground, where
+it lay in a field, a few hundred yards from
+the aerodrome.</p>
+
+<p>The fourth machine then came up, and I<span class="pagenum" id="Page_203">203</span>
+opened fire on him. I was now greatly
+worried as to how I was to get away, as I
+was using up all my ammunition, and there
+seemed to be no end to the number of
+machines coming up. I was afraid that
+other machines from other aerodromes would
+also come in answer to telephone calls, and
+wanted to get away as quickly as I could.
+But there was no chance of running from
+this man—he had me cold—so I turned at
+him savagely, and, in the course of a short
+fight, emptied the whole of my last drum
+at him. Luckily, at the moment I finished
+my ammunition, he also seemed to have had
+enough of it, as he turned and flew away. I
+seized my opportunity, climbed again, and
+started for home.</p>
+
+<p>To my dismay I discovered four enemy
+scouts above me. I was terrified that they
+would see me, so flew directly underneath
+them, for some time—almost a mile, I should
+think—going directly south. Then, deciding
+that I must do something, I took the
+bit in my teeth and slipped away. They
+did not attempt to attack me at all, so I am
+not sure whether they even saw me or not.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_204">204</span></p>
+
+<p>I now headed in the approximate direction
+of our lines, and flew in rather a dazed
+state toward them. I had not had any
+breakfast, and was feeling very queer at my
+stomach. The excitement, and the reaction
+afterwards, had been a bit too much, as well
+as the cold morning air. It seemed, once or
+twice, that my head was going around and
+around, and that something must happen.
+For the only time in my life it entered
+my thoughts that I might lose my senses
+in a moment, and go insane. It was a
+horrible feeling, and I also had the terrible
+sensation that I would suffer from nausea any
+minute. I was not at all sure where I was,
+and furthermore did not care. The thrills
+and exultation I had at first felt had all
+died away, and nothing seemed to matter
+but this awful feeling of dizziness and the
+desire to get home and on the ground.</p>
+
+<p>By the time I reached the aerodrome,
+however, I felt much better, and flew over
+our still sleeping huts, firing off my signal
+lights frantically, to show them I had certainly
+had some success. I landed, and my
+sergeant immediately rushed out and asked<span class="pagenum" id="Page_205">205</span>
+me how many I had bagged. When I told
+him three, he was greatly pleased, and
+yelled it back to the mechanics who were
+waiting by the shed. Then, as I crawled
+out of my machine, I heard the remarks of
+the mechanics around me. They were looking
+it over. Everywhere it was shot about,
+bullet-holes being in almost every part of
+it, although none, luckily, within 2 feet of
+where I sat. Parts of the machine were so
+badly damaged as to take a lot of repairing;
+but I used the same patched planes in the
+machine for some time afterward, and always
+felt great affection for it for pulling me
+through such a successful enterprise. I personally
+congratulated the man who had
+charge of my gun, suddenly realizing that if
+it had jammed at a critical moment what a
+tight corner I would have been in.</p>
+
+<p>Within three or four hours I had received
+many congratulations upon this stunt, and
+what I had planned as merely a way of
+shooting down some more of the Huns I
+found the authorities considered a very successful
+expedition. It pleased me very
+much—and, of course, I have always kept<span class="pagenum" id="Page_206">206</span>
+the telegrams of congratulations which I
+received that day. At first I had been disappointed
+in the net result, for when I
+started out I had rather hoped they would
+all take off as the first machine did, and that
+I would be able to bag, at the very least,
+four. But, on looking back at it, I think I
+was over-optimistic, and was very lucky to
+have brought down as many as I did.</p>
+
+<p>That afternoon I was still suffering from
+the excitement of the morning and, although
+tired out, could not sleep, so with one other
+man I climbed in my machine and flew
+about fifty miles south, to pay a visit to
+another of our aerodromes there. We left
+to return about 5 o’clock and had more
+excitement, as a rain-storm was coming up,
+and for the last ten minutes had to plough
+through a drizzle. It was pretty dreary
+work, and I was very glad to see the aerodrome
+again. An hour later I was sound
+asleep in my bed, and did not awaken until
+the next morning.</p>
+
+<p>Next morning we had a most discouraging
+time. For several days there had not
+been many German machines on the lines,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_207">207</span>
+and we had been very successful in stopping
+them from doing their artillery work. But
+on this morning, when, with our usual confidence
+of finding only one or two, we
+slipped across the lines after them, we suddenly
+made out everywhere, groups of four
+or five; and, counting them up, I found
+there were no less than twenty-three German
+machines within three miles of the
+front. There were only three of us, so it
+was rather puzzling what to do. In some
+way we had to stop the machines from doing
+artillery work, and it was not a very pleasant
+prospect for three to pile into the
+middle of over twenty, with the likelihood of
+still more coming from other directions.
+However, we stayed just on the German
+side of the line, and they did not seem very
+anxious to attack us. So, whenever two or
+three would get separated from the others,
+we would pretend to go near them, and they
+would shy away towards the rest of their
+machines. It was terribly annoying to have
+to sit there and see so many fat Huns go
+unmolested, and after we landed we agreed
+that if it ever happened again, one of us<span class="pagenum" id="Page_208">208</span>
+would go back, get more machines to help,
+and then we would engage the lot in a real
+battle royal. So many times we could not
+find any of them, when we were just dying
+for a fight; now they were in such huge
+numbers it would be folly to mix up with
+them.</p>
+
+<p>We managed to have three short goes at
+different artillery machines in the course of
+half an hour next day, but they were not
+“having any,” however, and turned away
+and fled towards home.</p>
+
+<p>Another time, while flying on the lines,
+my engine suddenly stopped dead. Nothing
+I could do had any effect on it, and I
+glided back toward home. At first I was a
+bit afraid I would not even clear the shell
+area, and it meant crashing into some deep
+hole, but there was a slight wind behind me,
+and with the help of this I glided on and
+on into clear country, where there was an
+aerodrome.</p>
+
+<p>In one week I had no less than three engine
+failures, although I have hardly ever had
+one at any other time. But, as luck would
+have it, I was always able to glide down<span class="pagenum" id="Page_209">209</span>
+and just reach the same aerodrome. I got
+to know it quite well by the end of the
+week.</p>
+
+<figure id="i_221" class="figcenter" style="max-width: 48em;">
+  <img src="images/i_221.jpg" width="3015" height="1874" alt="">
+  <figcaption class="caption">
+
+<p class="right">
+Canadian Official Photograph
+</p>
+
+<p>The Lewis Gun on my Nieuport.</p>
+  </figcaption>
+</figure>
+
+<p>On June 8th fortune favoured me. I
+had had two indecisive combats, when, to
+my great joy, I saw in the distance another
+layer formation of six Huns in groups of
+two. So I manœuvred again, to attack the
+top pair. After creeping up slowly and
+carefully behind one of them, I opened fire,
+and he went straight away into a spinning
+nose-dive, which he could not come out of,
+and crashed into the ground. The other
+machine of the top layer saw me, but had
+no desire to fight, and dived away immediately
+toward the rest of his formation.
+I pointed my nose down at him
+and fired, but he was too far away and
+escaped.</p>
+
+<p>This was again my day off, so I had deserted
+my own part of the lines and flown
+away up north where the battle of Messines
+was raging, and I had heard there were more
+German machines up in that direction.
+It was a good tip, and I was glad I had
+come.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_210">210</span></p>
+
+<p>A little later I saw the same or another
+formation of four, flying about in a group.
+I did not feel like going down and getting
+into the middle of them, so I stayed above
+and tried the old game of diving and coming
+up again, just to worry them. It evidently
+did, as they only stood for it twice, and then,
+losing height, made away as fast as they
+could go.</p>
+
+<p>Over a week passed now before I had
+another fight at all. Many times I sighted
+enemy aircraft, but they were always in the
+distance, and after a hot chase I would have
+to give it up. Then would come the disagreeable
+return journey against the anti-aircraft
+fire. By this time I was getting to
+hate the German guns, as they often caught
+me at low altitude and made the way home
+so nasty. One night when a shell burst
+near me, I happened to see the flash of the
+gun that was firing, and as it was almost
+directly beneath me, I threw my machine
+out of control, with a sudden inspiration,
+and let it fall for several thousand feet.
+Then, about two thousand feet from the
+ground, I opened fire at the battery on the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_211">211</span>
+ground. I was too high to see just what
+effect my fire had, but it evidently silenced
+them, and from later results certainly annoyed
+them very much, because every time
+I crossed the line on “Blue Nose,” this gun
+would open fire fiercely, concentrating on
+me, no matter how many other machines
+were in the air.</p>
+
+<p>About five miles south of this position,
+on another day, I was flying at a height of
+2,000 feet, and saw another “Archie” firing,
+so I dived down to about 500 feet from the
+ground and scattered some flaming bullets
+around him. This battery also gave “Blue
+Nose” special attention from that day on.</p>
+
+<p>It became a favourite habit of ours, about
+this time, when there were no enemy
+machines up above, to come down low and
+attack the enemy trenches, from a height
+of from 100 to 500 feet. We would come
+down behind them, and, diving at them that
+way, open fire. It evidently frightened the
+Huns very much, from reports which we
+later heard.</p>
+
+<p>In the June evenings the sky was a beautiful
+sight at sunset. If there was any wind<span class="pagenum" id="Page_212">212</span>
+blowing at all, the mist would be cleared
+away, and one could see almost to the end
+of the world. The ground was a riot of
+beautiful colours, and the dusty roads
+stretched away like long white ribbons.</p>
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_213">213</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XVI">CHAPTER XVI</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p class="in0"><span class="firstword">All</span> of June was marked by the most perfect
+weather. The prevailing strong west winds
+stopped and a light breeze blew constantly
+from the east. Some days there was hardly
+a stir in the air. From dawn until sundown
+there was rarely a cloud in the sky,
+and although the heat-waves from the effect
+of the sun on the earth made flying very
+rough when near the ground, the days were
+wonderful, and we all felt like kings.</p>
+
+<p>The mornings were very busy, as there
+were many calls to chase away hostile aircraft;
+but the afternoons we generally had
+to ourselves, and although it was necessary
+to stay right on the aerodrome, we found
+many amusements there.</p>
+
+<p>The mess was situated on the very edge
+of the aerodrome and about twenty yards
+from a farmhouse, which possessed the
+most extraordinary farmyard I have ever<span class="pagenum" id="Page_214">214</span>
+seen. There were pigeons by the hundreds,
+and all kinds of fowl possible to imagine. A
+small pond in the middle of the farmyard
+afforded exercise and amusement for a
+flock of ducks. The raising of pigs, however,
+seemed to be the farmer’s great specialty,
+and to these pigs I owe many amusing
+hours.</p>
+
+<p>One afternoon, while looking through the
+farmyard, three of us decided to capture a
+large hog and trail it back to our quarters
+to shoo it into the room of a friend, who was
+at the moment sleeping. It was very easy
+to get the idea, but for inexperienced people
+it was a difficult job to get the porker.</p>
+
+<p>After much mature deliberation we decided
+upon our victim—the largest and
+dirtiest one in the farmyard. It was lying
+half-buried in the mud near the pond, so
+with a few small pebbles we woke it up and
+frightened it on to dry land. Then began
+the chase. Two or three times we managed
+to corner it, but with a series of grunts and
+squeals it would charge one of us and make
+a clean get-away. Finally, seeing no other
+course open, we drove it into a small pig-pen<span class="pagenum" id="Page_215">215</span>
+which had only one outlet, an opening with
+a door covering it up to about 3 feet high.
+Opening the door, we shooed the pig in. It
+seemed to have no objection, and after it
+went one of my comrades with a rope. I
+carefully closed the door and bolted it from
+the outside, so that the pig could not force
+it open. Then, peering over the top, I
+witnessed a remarkable scene. The hog
+was now desperate and tearing around in a
+circle, squealing for all it was worth. My
+companion with the rope was trying to fix
+a noose on one of the hind legs. In doing
+so the pig kicked him, and turning, nearly
+knocked him over as it rushed past. The
+next phase was a cry of “Open the door
+and let me out.” The airman was as badly
+frightened as the hog. Suddenly, with an
+extra squeal, our supposed victim made a
+leap up the door and, firmly fastening fore
+legs on to the top of it, worked up like a
+fat gymnast and fell over on the outside.
+By this time we were all laughing so hard
+we could not interfere, and the pig got away.</p>
+
+<p>Refusing to be beaten, we employed the
+services of a small French boy to help us,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_216">216</span>
+and he sneaked up behind another huge pig
+and fastened the rope to a hind leg. I
+then took hold of it to drive it home, but
+the poor beast, upon learning that he was
+tied up, had no intention of giving in, and
+immediately started away at a furious gallop,
+dragging me after it. Once around the farmyard
+we went, and half again, before I
+tripped on a stone and fell flat, and this pig
+also escaped. You see, I was having no
+luck with Huns.</p>
+
+<p>Again the French boy came to our rescue
+and secured Mr. Pig, showing us how to
+drive it properly. This we did, and managed
+in the course of the next three-quarters
+of an hour to get the pig as far as the
+officers’ quarters. To drive him in was a
+difficult matter, but with numerous assistants
+and much noise and shouting he
+finally entered, but, of course, the sleeping
+man had been awake long since. However,
+we got the pig into his room, where he was
+standing in his pyjamas, and to see a brave
+man frightened is a rare sight, but the rest
+of us had the chance then.</p>
+
+<p>We took the pig into the mess to show<span class="pagenum" id="Page_217">217</span>
+him about, putting him in a little cage
+made of the fire-fender. He seemed quite
+satisfied here for a moment, then, deciding
+that he would like to get away, stuck his
+nose under the edge of the fire-fender, heaved
+it over his back, and with a disgusted grunt
+walked out. Feeling that he had earned
+his freedom, we let him go.</p>
+
+<p>Every afternoon after that we found
+much fun out of the different animals in
+the farmyard. The French people were as
+pleased as we were until some of their ducks
+stopped laying, when, of course, we made
+good the value of the eggs that came not,
+and a great many more that would never
+have come.</p>
+
+<p>One afternoon we secured three ducks
+and a lot of paint. One duck we painted
+with circles around it of red, white, and blue,
+just like the Allied markings on our machine.
+Of the other two we painted one red and one
+bright blue. They did not seem to appreciate
+it, but they were distinguished-looking
+ducks until about two months later, when
+they began to moult. Then one would see
+wandering through the grass a weird sight<span class="pagenum" id="Page_218">218</span>
+looking like a moth-eaten bird, a dirty
+scarlet in some places and a dirty white in
+others. It would be a horrible sight close
+to, but from a distance quite pretty, resembling
+some bird of paradise.</p>
+
+<p>These ducks we tried hard to train, trying
+to teach them to walk on the ground in
+formations the same as we flew in the air.
+They were not very adept pupils, however,
+and, instead of walking at correct distances
+apart, would keep looking behind at us,
+and jostling into the men on the right and
+left.</p>
+
+<p>One afternoon we got as many as sixteen
+ducks, and after giving them a good luncheon,
+by way of celebration for their outing,
+we put them on the roof of the mess,
+where they all sat in a stately row, quacking
+in spasms.</p>
+
+<p>These incidents, though simple to tell
+now, at that time afforded us the greatest
+amusement, and as we were in no way cruel
+to the animals, the French people who
+owned them did not seem to mind.</p>
+
+<p>However, perhaps one day we carried it
+a little far, as we tried to find the effect of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_219">219</span>
+alcohol upon the ducks. This was most
+amusing with two or three, because, although
+they did not like the first drop of it, when
+they had been forced to swallow that, they
+eagerly cried for more. Their return home
+was a ludicrous sight, sitting down on the
+ground every minute or two, and always
+walking in a “beaucoup” zigzag course, as
+the French would say. Once we got hold
+of the head drake of the flock, and, imagining
+him to be able to stand a little more
+than the rest, gave him a drop too much,
+with the result that he unfortunately died.
+It took quite a bit of broken French and
+more expressive French notes to reconcile
+the owner to his loss, but after a long and
+painful conversation of nearly half an hour
+he was in a better humour and, incidentally,
+a richer man. With that our attention to
+the ducks ceased, although by this time
+three-quarters of the flock had been painted
+various hues.</p>
+
+<p>We now returned to the pigs, and found
+much fun with the smaller ones. These also
+were painted, and we always referred to
+their different parts in aeronautical terms,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_220">220</span>
+such as calling their legs their “under-carriage”
+and their bodies their “fuselage.”</p>
+
+<p>One little pig we had was a most successful
+picture. His legs and the under-part
+of his body were all painted scarlet,
+his nose and tail as well. On his back were
+huge red, white, and blue circles. The rest
+of his body was touched with red, white and
+blue, his ears being blue. It was very good
+paint, and the result was a beautifully
+shining, coloured pig. When he returned
+that night to the others they stood off and
+gazed at him in amazement, and for days
+would not associate with him. It was indeed
+a red-letter day in his existence, as
+he was certainly <span class="allsmcap">THE</span> pig amongst all pigs.</p>
+
+<p>Using the French boy on another occasion,
+we again secured a large sow. Upon
+her we painted black crosses, a huge black
+cross on her nose, a little one on each ear,
+and a large one on each side. Then on her
+back we painted Baron von Richtofen. So
+that the other pigs would recognize that
+she was indeed a leader, we tied a leader’s
+streamer on her tail. This trailed for some
+3 feet behind her as she walked, and was<span class="pagenum" id="Page_221">221</span>
+exactly the same sort of thing that the
+leader of a patrol of aeroplanes uses so that
+he can be identified.</p>
+
+<p>When the “Baron” returned to the farmyard
+everything else there immediately concentrated
+its attention upon the weird sight.
+Chickens, ducks, pigs, and geese all followed
+the big sow as she walked around. It was
+certainly a successful circus for our friend
+von Richtofen, and every time she moved
+around that farmyard she had a good
+following of multi-coloured admirers.</p>
+
+<p>Upon the express condition that we would
+not paint them, the farmer let us have his
+rabbits in the afternoon. He must have
+had over 200, and we would go in with a
+blanket and get about twenty-five small
+ones, then take them out and drop them
+in the green grass, where we would sit
+around under a tree, and play with them or
+watch them eat. They were amusing little
+things and passed away many hours for us.</p>
+
+<p>However, dogs were our special favourites,
+so far as pets were concerned, and every
+stray dog we could find we would pick up
+and bring home. Finally we had a huge<span class="pagenum" id="Page_222">222</span>
+collection of them, with a variety of names
+ranging from “Kate,” “Rachel,” or
+“Horace” to “Black Dog” and “Nigger.”</p>
+
+<p>They were all good dogs, and I remember
+well when little Kate, whom we had raised
+from a puppy, was lost. We all felt very
+badly for days. She was reported in the
+squadron books as “missing,” as she had
+gone out and had not returned. Poor
+Kate! her life had indeed been hard. As a
+puppy, her first accident was when she had
+“crashed” off the top of a piano, and had
+broken one of her fore legs. This was no
+sooner mended than somebody walked on
+her when she was sitting in front of the
+fire, and broke another. A month later
+an automobile ran over her on the road,
+and broke a third and badly injured her
+body, so that she was a little cripple, and
+hopped along on three legs, although how
+she ever used them nobody knows. Her
+body was all twisted, and she had no good
+points except a very charming manner, which
+made us very fond of her.</p>
+
+<p>“Nigger” was one of my own dogs. One
+night, returning after having dined with<span class="pagenum" id="Page_223">223</span>
+some other unit, I found “Nigger” outside
+my hut. He was a big dog, looking very
+much like an Airedale, only black. It was
+pouring rain and very cold, so I took him in
+and let him sleep on my bed with me. He
+had a most affectionate way about him,
+and although quite the smelliest dog I have
+ever known, it was a pleasure to have him
+about.</p>
+
+<p>The other dogs each had their good
+points. Rachel—who was a little deformed
+fox-terrier we had picked up on the road
+simply because she was the ugliest-looking
+thing we had ever seen—turned out to be a
+wonderful ratter, frequently taking on rats
+twice as long as she was, and, although
+getting badly bitten herself, she would invariably
+come out of the scrap victorious.
+Nobody would claim Rachel, but she got
+fed somehow, and also got quite a lot of
+attention, so she stayed with us.</p>
+
+<p>By way of sports, we played tennis a
+great deal, and did considerable riding, two
+good horses having been lent to the squadron
+for that purpose. Then, too, as the place
+seemed to be infested with rats, we managed<span class="pagenum" id="Page_224">224</span>
+to get together some good ratting parties,
+and with the help of some of the dogs had
+many successful hunts.</p>
+
+<p>Carefully blocking all the holes in the
+ground, with the exception of one or two,
+we would send smoke down one of these,
+and with a little preliminary squeal three
+or four rats would rush out of the other.
+One afternoon, inside of half an hour, we
+caught eighteen rats.</p>
+
+<p>Another sport, and a very good one, was
+to take a 22-calibre rifle and try to shoot
+individual pigeons on the wing. It was a
+very hard thing to do and required much
+practice. Luckily we did not hit too often,
+as we paid well for each pigeon we shot down.
+I remember one afternoon firing 500 rounds
+and only hitting one pigeon, and I considered
+myself lucky to hit that one. This
+sport was much encouraged, as it was the
+very best practice in the world for the eye
+of a man whose business it is to fight
+mechanical birds in the air.</p>
+
+<p>Every now and again we would be given
+a day off. This day would be spent, usually,
+in either sleeping all day or roaming about<span class="pagenum" id="Page_225">225</span>
+the orchard in silk pyjamas, or else one
+would go and visit some friends who possibly
+were stationed near. It was a great
+thing, as it always left us keen for work the
+next day.</p>
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_226">226</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XVII">CHAPTER XVII</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p class="in0"><span class="firstword">By</span> this time I had learned nearly all of the
+fundamental principles of fighting in the
+air and had more or less decided upon
+exactly what tactics were best for me to
+use. I also realized the exact limit of my
+ability in carrying these various tactics out,
+and in fighting acted accordingly. I was
+more than ever firmly resolved now that,
+having got so far in the game and past its
+most dangerous stages, I would take no
+foolish risks, but continue to wait for the
+best opportunities. It was very hard to
+restrain oneself at times, but from the
+middle of May until I left France in August,
+I lost only one man out of my patrol killed,
+and he was shot down on an expedition
+when I was not with him.</p>
+
+<p>When flying alone, on a day off or something
+like that, I took queer chances, it is<span class="pagenum" id="Page_227">227</span>
+true, but flying with the patrol often let
+opportunities slip by because they were not
+quite good enough; but when the right ones
+came, we were quick to seize them and were
+nearly always successful.</p>
+
+<p>I had learned that the most important
+thing in fighting was the shooting, next the
+various tactics in coming into the fight, and
+last of all flying ability itself. The shooting,
+as I have said before, I practised constantly
+and became more and more expert at it,
+with the result that finally I had great confidence
+in myself, and knew for a certainty
+that if I only could get in a shot from one or
+two of my favourite positions, I would be
+successful in downing my opponent.</p>
+
+<p>To those who have never seen a war
+machine I would explain that to control
+one, the pilot has to manipulate but a single
+lever which we call the “joy-stick.” It is
+very much like the lever with which you
+shift gears on an automobile, but it moves in
+four directions. If you would want your
+machine to go down, the instinctive move
+would be to lean the body forward. Therefore,
+the fighting aeroplane is so rigged that<span class="pagenum" id="Page_228">228</span>
+when the pilot pushes the “joy-stick” forward,
+the nose of the machine points down.
+In the same way, if he pulls the “joy-stick”
+back, the nose goes up and the machine
+climbs at any angle he wants it to. In
+turning, it is necessary to bank the machine,
+otherwise it will skid outwards. It is also
+just as necessary that the machine is not
+banked too much. This is one of the first
+things a pupil is taught when learning to
+fly.</p>
+
+<p>The “joy-stick” also controls the banking.
+By moving it to either side you can
+tilt up whichever wing is desired. At his
+feet the pilot has a rudder bar which controls
+the horizontal direction of the machine.
+If he pushes his left foot forward and banks
+slightly, the machine turns slowly to the
+left. To go to the right, there is only necessary
+a push with the right foot and a slight
+bank. The pilot thus has both feet on the
+rudder bar, holds the “joy-stick” with his
+right hand, and with his left controls the
+engine of the machine by holding the throttle
+in his hand. He is always able to do anything
+he wishes, either with the engine or<span class="pagenum" id="Page_229">229</span>
+the machine itself. When firing the gun,
+he simply moves his thumb slightly along
+the “joy-stick” and presses the lever which
+pulls the trigger.</p>
+
+<p>To be able to fight well, a pilot must be
+able to have absolute control over his
+machine. He must know by the “feel” of
+it exactly how the machine is, what position
+it is in, and how it is flying, so that he may
+manœuvre rapidly, and at the same time
+watch his opponent or opponents. He must
+be able to loop, turn his machine over on its
+back, and do various other flying “stunts”—not
+that these are actually necessary during
+a combat, but from the fact that he has
+done these things several times he gets absolute
+confidence, and when the fight comes
+along he is not worrying about how the
+machine will act. He can devote all his
+time to fighting the other fellow, the flying
+part of it coming instinctively. Thus the
+flying part, although perhaps the hardest
+to train a man for, is the least important
+factor in aerial fighting. A man’s flying
+ability may be perfect. He may be able to
+control the machine and handle it like no one<span class="pagenum" id="Page_230">230</span>
+else on earth, but if he goes into a fight and
+risks his life many times to get into the
+right position for a good shot, and then
+upon arriving there cannot hit the mark, he
+is useless. Unable to shoot his opponent
+down, he must risk his life still more in order
+to get out and away from the enemy, and
+that is why I put aerial gunnery down as
+the most important factor in fighting in the
+air.</p>
+
+<p>Tactics are next important because, by
+the proper use of the best tactics, it is so
+easy to help eliminate risks and also so easy
+to put the enemy at a great disadvantage.
+Surprise is always to be aimed for. Naturally
+if one can surprise the enemy and get
+into a proper position to shoot before he is
+aware of your presence, it simplifies matters
+tremendously, and there should be no second
+part to the fight. But it is a very hard
+thing to do, as every fighting man in the air
+is constantly on the look-out for enemy
+machines. To surprise him requires a tremendous
+amount of patience and many
+failures before one is ever successful. A
+point to know is the fact that it is easier to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_231">231</span>
+surprise a formation of four or six than it is
+to surprise one or two. This is probably
+because the greater number feel more confident
+in their ability to protect themselves,
+and also are probably counting upon
+each other to do a certain amount of the
+looking out.</p>
+
+<p>When flying alone or with just one other,
+it is always a case of constantly turning
+around in your seat, turning your machine
+to right or left, looking above and around
+or below you all the time. It is a very tiring
+piece of work, so it is but natural that when
+you have three or four other men behind
+you, you spend more time looking in the
+direction where you hope the enemy machines
+are, if you want to attack them, and to looking
+at any interesting sights which are on
+the ground.</p>
+
+<p>In ordinary fight or duel we had tactics,
+of course, to suit the occasion. The great
+thing is never to let the enemy’s machine
+get behind you, or “on your tail.” Once
+he reaches there it is very hard to get
+him off, as every turn and every move you
+make, he makes with you. By the same<span class="pagenum" id="Page_232">232</span>
+token it is exactly the position into which
+you wish to get, and once there you must
+constantly strive for a shot as well as look
+out for attacks from other machines that
+may be near. It is well if you are against
+odds never to stay long after one machine.
+If you concentrate on him for more than a
+fraction of a second, some other Hun has a
+chance to get a steady shot at you, without
+taking any risks himself. To hit a machine
+when it is flying at right angles to you across
+your nose is very hard. It requires a good
+deal of judgment in knowing just how far
+ahead of him to aim. It is necessary to hit
+the pilot himself and not the machine to be
+successful, and also necessary to hit the
+pilot in the upper part of the body where it
+will be more certain to put him completely
+out of action at once. When a machine
+goes into flames it is largely a matter of luck,
+as it means that several of your bullets have
+pierced the petrol tank and ignited the
+vapour escaping from it.</p>
+
+<p>In our tactics we used this cross shot, as it
+is called, considerably; mainly when, after
+a combat has been broken off for some reason,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_233">233</span>
+guns having jammed or the engine running
+badly, it becomes necessary to escape. Upon
+turning to flee, your opponent is able to
+get a direct shot at you from behind. This
+is decidedly dangerous; so, watching carefully
+over your shoulder and judging the
+moment he will open fire, you turn your
+machine quickly so as to fly at right angles
+to him. His bullets will generally pass behind
+you during the manœuvre. The next thing
+to do is to turn facing him and open with
+your cross fire.</p>
+
+<p>In fighting in company with other machines
+of your own squadron one must be very
+careful to avoid collisions, and it is also
+necessary to watch all of them carefully as
+well as the enemy, because it is a code of
+honour to help out any comrade who is in
+distress, and no matter how serious the consequences
+may seem, there is only one thing
+to do—dash straight in, and at least lend
+moral support to him. In one case I had a
+Captain out of my own squadron, a New
+Zealander, come eight miles across the lines
+after both his guns had choked, and he was
+entirely useless as a fighting unit, just to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_234">234</span>
+try to bluff away seven of the enemy
+who were attacking me. It was unnecessary
+in this case, as I had the upper hand
+of the few machines that were really serious
+about the fight; but it was a tremendously
+brave act on his part, as he ran great risks
+of being killed, while absolutely helpless
+to defend himself in any way.</p>
+
+<p>All fights vary slightly in the tactics required,
+and it is necessary to think quickly
+and act instantly. Where a large number
+of machines are engaged, one great thing is
+always to be the upper man—that is, to be
+slightly higher than your particular opponent.
+With this extra height it is quite easy to
+dive upon him, and it makes manœuvring
+much easier. If, as is often the case, you
+are the “under dog,” it is a very difficult
+position, and requires great care to carry
+on the fight with any chance of success.
+Every time your opponent attempts to dive
+at you or attack you in any way, the best
+thing to do is to turn on him, pull the nose
+of your machine up, and fire. Often while
+fighting it is necessary to attack a machine
+head-on until you seem to be just about to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_235">235</span>
+crash in mid-air. Neither machine wants
+to give way, and collisions have been known
+to occur while doing this. We prided ourselves
+that we hardly ever gave way, and the
+German was usually the first to swerve.
+At the last moment one of you must dodge
+up and the other down, and there is great
+risk of both of you doing the same thing,
+which of course is fatal. It is perhaps one
+of the most thrilling moments in fighting
+in the air when you are only 100 yards
+apart, and coming together at colossal speed,
+spouting bullets at each other as fast as
+you can.</p>
+
+<p>Once you have passed you must turn instantly
+to keep your opponent from getting
+a favourable position behind you, and then
+carry on the fight in the usual series of
+turns and manœuvres. An extraordinary
+feature of these fights which occupied any
+length of time, and entailed such manœuvring,
+was the fact that they were generally undecisive,
+one machine or the other finally
+deciding that for some reason or other it
+must quit and make good its escape. In
+nearly all cases where machines have been<span class="pagenum" id="Page_236">236</span>
+downed, it was during a fight which had
+been very short, and the successful burst of
+fire had occurred within the space of a
+minute after the beginning of actual hostilities.</p>
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_237">237</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XVIII">CHAPTER XVIII</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p class="in0"><span class="firstword">A new</span> kind of enemy was meeting us now—a
+two-seater machine which mounted a
+small cannon, or shell-firing gun. This was
+a sort of “pom-pom” gun, discharging about
+a one-pound shell, which would either burst
+upon percussion or after travelling a certain
+distance through the air. Several times,
+while attacking machines doing artillery
+work, we were surprised to see little white
+puffs around us, and realized suddenly that
+these were small bursting shells. However,
+they did no harm that I know of, and the
+Huns did not seem to be able to make even
+decent shooting with them. The first two
+or three times we met up with them they
+rather frightened us, and we kept away
+from their field of fire, but after a little bit
+of experience we found there was nothing to
+worry about. Their shooting was so bad
+the shells invariably burst well to one side.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_238">238</span>
+Personally, I much preferred “pom-pom”
+to the wicked rattle of a pair of machine
+guns pointing at me and their smoking
+bullets whining by.</p>
+
+<p>Day after day we chased these machines
+away from their work, only to have to go
+out an hour later and chase them again.
+Sometimes we would force them right down
+to the ground, and that would often finish
+them for the day, but it was very seldom
+that anything decisive occurred.</p>
+
+<p>On June 24th in the early morning, while
+leading a patrol, I ran into a German pilot
+of exceptional quality. Another fighting
+patrol of ours had been attacking him, when
+I saw him, and I headed in their direction to
+watch the fight, but they evidently had had
+enough of it, and left him. We, in our turn,
+took him on, and there followed an extremely
+hot engagement. He managed to
+get into the middle of us, and it was all we
+could do to keep from colliding as we attacked
+him. Finally, to add to our disgust,
+he broke off the combat of his own sweet
+will just at the moment he felt he had had
+enough, and dived away. As we followed,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_239">239</span>
+diving after him, he would turn under us,
+then dive again, and repeat this performance.
+It was a most trying thing. I would
+dive after him, then the moment I stopped
+firing and pulled up to turn and watch
+where he went, I would probably just miss
+by inches one of our own machines, also
+diving at him, with his eyes on nothing
+but the enemy. The danger of collision in
+such an attack is very great, and requires
+a constant look-out.</p>
+
+<p>Later in the morning I went out again,
+alone, and saw two enemy scouts. I climbed
+up above them, and watched carefully,
+deciding that I would take no chances of
+losing them. Finally, I discovered that
+they were patrolling a given beat, and
+by waiting up above, at one end of this
+beat, I was able, just at the moment that
+they turned to go back along it again, to
+dive down, approaching them from behind,
+and come up behind the rear one without
+him seeing me. I got within 20 yards of
+him, and, just slightly underneath and
+behind, I pulled the nose of my machine up
+and with very careful aim opened fire. A<span class="pagenum" id="Page_240">240</span>
+second later and his machine smoked a bit,
+then suddenly burst into flames and fell
+toward the ground. The other one had dived
+away from me at first, but now climbed
+back to attack me. I dived at him twice,
+and opened fire both times, but without
+result. The second time I think he was hit,
+but not seriously, as he dived away and
+escaped, going through the clouds.</p>
+
+<p>Not long after that I met three more of
+the enemy, and had a funny fight with
+them, by worrying them from above. In
+the course of a number of short dives I suddenly
+ran out of ammunition. They had
+seemed, up to this moment, quite keen to
+fight, and so was I, but now I decided I
+must get away somehow. I was somewhat
+surprised when I discovered that at the
+same moment I commenced to escape, they
+also did. We both noticed at the same
+time that the other side was willing to
+break it off, and as the Hun turned to attack
+me behind, while I was escaping, I
+turned to try to bluff him away. It worked
+perfectly, and the whole three of them again
+turned their noses east and flew away. It<span class="pagenum" id="Page_241">241</span>
+had been some time since I had brought
+down an enemy machine, and I hoped the
+one in flames this day would change my luck
+for the better again. I think it did, for in
+the week which followed I brought down
+five in all.</p>
+
+<p>Victory flew with me the following day
+when I managed to get two more scouts on
+my list. While flying alone, I saw three of
+them protecting a two-seater. They were
+very intent upon watching their charge and
+had not noticed me, so I flew away some
+distance and climbed well above them, to
+make certain they had no machines in layer
+formation above. Then I dived on the three
+scouts. Again I surprised the rear man,
+and after twenty-five rounds, well placed,
+he burst into flames and went down. The
+other two were at the moment turning towards
+me; but upon seeing the fate of their
+comrade, one of them dived away and went
+down near the two-seater. The other one
+turned to engage me. In the short fight
+that followed, he got some bullets very close
+to me, and I to him, but for three or four
+minutes neither of us seemed able to get an<span class="pagenum" id="Page_242">242</span>
+appreciable advantage of the other. Then,
+suddenly I managed to get a chance from an
+angle I knew very well, and opened fire. He
+immediately dropped out of control, and I
+dived after him, firing as he fell. Having
+finished one drum of ammunition, I had to
+come out of the dive to put a new one on.
+The other scout and two-seater were still
+in the same place, so getting above them I
+tried two dives, but without result. The
+observer on the two-seater was doing remarkably
+good shooting, and I did not like
+to get too close, as it seemed a poor way
+to end a morning’s work by being shot
+down after starting so well. Finishing my
+ammunition at fairly long range, I returned
+home.</p>
+
+<p>My luck still held the next day when I
+found some more scouts, in straggling formation.
+The rear one was slightly above the
+rest, which was very much to my liking, so
+down I went after him. Again the surprise
+was successful, and, after a short burst,
+out of control he went. I was getting quite
+callous in doing this, and was afraid of
+myself becoming careless. The only danger<span class="pagenum" id="Page_243">243</span>
+I ran was in the fact that I might become
+careless, and if caught while creeping up
+behind these people, and they had a chance
+to turn on me, it would be a very unhappy
+position to be in. However, this time it
+was as successful as the rest, and as two
+more scouts who were next highest seemed
+willing to fight, I went down after them.
+As I approached, one of the two lost his
+nerve and dived away. The other made a
+turn to come at me, but I opened fire, with
+rough aim, while still a hundred yards away.
+It was a purely lucky shot, and one of my
+bullets must have accidentally hit an important
+wire in his machine, as suddenly,
+while doing an exceedingly quick turn, two
+of his planes flew away and his machine fell
+in pieces.</p>
+
+<p>I did not have any more luck for several
+days, most of my fights being in the usual
+job of chasing away artillery machines—taking
+all the risks, and never having a
+chance to get in a decent shot.</p>
+
+<p>A few days later, while out in the morning,
+thick clouds prevented our seeing very
+much. Several times, while going around<span class="pagenum" id="Page_244">244</span>
+or under the clouds, I would suddenly catch
+sight of an enemy machine, then lose it again
+a moment or two later. Once I saw a
+scout about 300 yards away, but he immediately
+dived toward some clouds, and I could
+only open fire from long range in the hope
+of frightening him down. Meeting up with
+one of my own squadron, who was also
+flying alone, a few minutes later, we discovered
+a machine directly underneath us.
+Down we both went at him, and opened fire,
+but he also disappeared into a cloud, and
+we flew away. Five minutes later he again
+appeared beneath us. Down at him we
+went, but again he dug himself into the
+clouds.</p>
+
+<p>After each fight it would be necessary to
+make certain where you were, as a strong
+wind from the west kept blowing the machines
+in toward Hunland. I had five fights in the
+course of the morning, but none of them
+was successful or very exciting.</p>
+
+<p>The next day at noon, however, I had
+enough excitement to last me for some time.
+While on patrol and flying nearly three
+miles up, I saw approaching us from the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_245">245</span>
+direction of Germany a fast Hun two-seater
+of the enemy. I guessed at once he thought
+to cross our lines, and flew to attack him.
+He had seen us, however, and headed in the
+other direction immediately. I found I
+could not catch up with him, so, in great disgust,
+gave up the chase; then, on thinking
+it over, decided that if he had orders to
+cross the lines he would probably make
+another attempt. So I flew well off to one
+side and climbed as fast as I could. I could
+just see him—a speck in the distance—and
+could see that he also was climbing. Finally,
+when he reached what he surmised was a
+safe height he approached our lines again.
+I did not make another attempt to stop
+him, hoping that he would get well across,
+and then I would come between him and
+his own country. He saw me attempt to
+do this, and evidently hoped to evade me by
+climbing up still higher. A height of eighteen
+thousand feet was reached, and we were still
+climbing at about the same pace. He went
+well into our territory, and I followed at a
+great distance, watching carefully; then,
+the moment he started for home, went after<span class="pagenum" id="Page_246">246</span>
+him. At 19,500 feet we approached each
+other. I opened fire while coming head-on
+at him. He swerved slightly, and in doing
+so upset my aim. If we had been lower, I
+would certainly have hit him, but the great
+height and great cold had made my hand
+numb and a little unsteady in controlling
+the machine. He flew across, in front of
+me, and I turned with him to get in another
+shot. His observer’s face I could make
+out, as he was firing his gun frantically at
+me. We passed only about 10 yards apart,
+yet I was shooting so badly I did not bring
+him down. Then, in holding the nose of
+my machine up, to get a last shot at him, I
+lost too much speed, and suddenly fell
+several thousand feet completely out of
+control. By the time I had straightened out
+the enemy had escaped, and, in disgust, I
+rejoined the rest of the patrol and continued
+to fly up and down the lines.</p>
+
+<p>Just as we intended returning, I saw five
+of the enemy some distance away, and
+underneath us, so flew over and engaged
+them from above. The fight was at 7,000
+feet, the height I liked the best, so I went<span class="pagenum" id="Page_247">247</span>
+into it vigorously. Suddenly, while diving
+on a Hun machine, I heard the rattle of a
+pair of machine guns just behind me. I was
+certain that I had been trapped and was
+being fired at from a few feet behind me,
+so turned quickly, just to see one of our
+own machines shoot by underneath me. I
+continued my dive again, but the opportunity
+was lost, so went down after another
+one of the machines. For ten minutes this
+fight continued. Many times I would dive
+down, open fire, and then come up and turn
+away, at the same time avoiding others of
+our machines which were diving and firing
+as they came. At last I was successful. One
+of the Germans seemed to be enjoying the
+fight and had the impudence to loop directly
+under me. I happened to be diving just
+as he reached the top of the loop, and as he
+was coming out of it I got a direct shot on
+to the bottom of his machine, as it was
+turned upside-down. He fell out of control
+and crashed on the ground underneath
+us.</p>
+
+<p>Another machine had now joined the
+fight—a machine from one of our naval<span class="pagenum" id="Page_248">248</span>
+squadrons stationed in France—and he also
+was doing very well, as I saw a machine
+which he fired at fall out of control. Then
+suddenly, the remainder of the Germans—they
+had been reinforced by others—turned
+away and escaped, flying very near the
+ground. We returned home, and I waved
+to our new acquaintance from the naval
+squadron, so he followed me back to the
+aerodrome and landed beside me, to tell me
+that he had also seen my machine crash. It
+turned out that this man was the one who
+was leading the naval flyers and was next
+to me, at that time, in the number of
+machines which had been brought down by
+an Englishman then in France. It was his
+twenty-fifth machine.</p>
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_249">249</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XIX">CHAPTER XIX</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p class="in0"><span class="firstword">We</span> were greatly excited now over the fact
+that in a few weeks we expected to have a
+new type of machine—a much faster and
+better one all round. It also had two guns
+instead of one, which made a great difference;
+so night and day we dreamt and thought
+of these new machines and the time we
+would have when they arrived.</p>
+
+<p>The next week was a quiet one, only a
+few Huns being seen, and the engagements
+we had were short ones, at long ranges.
+But on the evening of July 10th we had a
+most interesting time. The day had been
+very cloudy, and there had been no flying.
+In the afternoon two of us went off in a
+car to pick up some friends and bring them
+back to the aerodrome in the evening. This
+was the day that Rachel was first found
+and brought to be a member of our squadron.
+My flight was detailed for a job at 7 o’clock
+that evening; but when that time arrived,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_250">250</span>
+the clouds were so low we decided it would
+not be worth while going up, so all roamed
+down to the tennis-court. The weather
+became a bit clearer when we had finished
+three or four games of a set. It was part
+of a tournament we were playing, and
+quite an interesting game was on when
+suddenly a messenger came down with the
+news that six machines were to leave the
+ground. We all ran to our machines. We
+were still in our white flannels, and dressed
+more for comfort than a fight in the air.
+There was no time to change, however, so
+into the machines we crawled and started
+aloft. The Major, deciding there must be
+some excitement in the air, otherwise we
+would not have been sent out, decided to
+follow us.</p>
+
+<p>Twenty minutes after we had been told
+on the tennis-court that a job was on hand,
+we sighted some Huns flying slightly above
+us. It was now a wonderful evening, everything
+clear as crystal, and one could not but
+feel that such a thing as a German should
+not be allowed in the sky, to spoil the beauty
+of the dying day. So, regardless of position<span class="pagenum" id="Page_251">251</span>
+or tactics of any kind, I led straight into
+the German formation. They were evidently
+a new squadron on that part of the front.
+They were flying machines of a bright green—machines
+which I had never seen before.
+However, they were no more courageous
+than most of their comrades, and when they
+saw us coming, although they had every
+advantage, they turned to go the other
+way. We cut them off, and managed to
+come in partly underneath them. There
+were twelve of them and seven of us, counting
+the Major, who had followed us into
+the fight, and a merry mix-up began at
+once. Several times I became entirely separated
+from the rest, and was in a very dangerous
+position. Once, after chasing one of
+the Huns for a moment, I turned, to find
+another one coming down directly at me,
+so I pulled up my nose to fire straight
+at him. The same moment a third Hun
+came diving at me from the side. He had
+an excellent shot, and knowing I could not
+shoot at him at the moment, on he came.
+I felt I was certainly in a very tight corner,
+when suddenly, with a flash of silver above<span class="pagenum" id="Page_252">252</span>
+me and the rattle of a machine gun, I saw
+my Major’s machine go dead at the German.
+It was a wonderful sight. The Hun quickly
+turned away, and at the same time the other
+man who was attacking me turned also. I
+then lost sight of the Major, but continued
+in the whirlwind of the fight. Round and
+round each other the whole lot of us went,
+like a lot of sparrows in a great whirlwind.
+Suddenly one of the Germans appeared just
+in front of me, and I opened fire dead at
+him. Down he went out of control, and I
+turned to engage some more, but after a
+few minutes they all dived away.</p>
+
+<p>The people at home on the aerodrome
+were now having a most exciting time. A
+little over half an hour after the patrol had
+left the ground they saw a silver Nieuport
+come streaking home. It landed, and they
+could see by the number that it was the
+Major’s machine. They went up to him,
+and he quietly crawled out and spoke to the
+people around him, saying that there was a
+big fight on over the lines, and we were all
+in the middle of it. He then turned and
+walked to the office, where he telephoned to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_253">253</span>
+report that he had been in a fight. Then,
+sending for the medical orderly, informed
+him he had a “scratch.”</p>
+
+<p>The medical orderly almost fainted when
+he saw blood pouring down the Major’s
+sleeve. It turned out that when he had been
+diving to save me, a chance bullet from one
+of the Huns, who was sitting safely at the
+edge of the fight, had struck his machine,
+actually hitting the switch, where it exploded,
+one fragment of it entering his forearm
+and going right up above the elbow.
+It made a very nasty wound indeed. The
+bullet, as well as smashing the switch and
+his arm, had done other damage, destroying
+several instruments and breaking an oil-indicator.
+The moment he realized that he
+had been hit, the Major carefully set about
+with his other arm to turn off the oil and
+adjust the switch, so that it would work
+properly. It was a delicate job, and all the
+time he was bleeding freely. Then it was
+necessary to get clear of the fight. This, of
+course, is a difficult thing to do at the best
+of times, but in a case like the Major’s it
+would have seemed almost impossible. Luck,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_254">254</span>
+however, favoured him, for at just that
+moment a chance came, and he took it. He
+slipped away towards our lines and, losing
+height, came toward home. The next thing
+he feared was the fact that he might faint
+in the air from loss of blood, so, terrified of
+this, he held his arm over the side in the
+cold air, and that partially stopped the
+bleeding. He then came down and landed.</p>
+
+<p>As I have said, the people at home were
+having a most exciting time. The sudden
+leaving of the rest of us for a job over the
+lines had been quite a dramatic affair, and
+now, as they sat on the ground, first appeared
+one of the machines, back in half an hour,
+with its pilot wounded, then not a sign of
+the rest for what seemed a very long time.
+They wondered if we had all been shot down,
+or what in the world could have happened.
+However, in an hour and a half the rest of
+us were back. We had been looking carefully,
+in the hope that we would find some
+more of the enemy, but had only seen two
+of them, which we were unable to catch up
+with. We did not know what had happened
+to the Major until we landed, by which<span class="pagenum" id="Page_255">255</span>
+time he had gone to the hospital. Four
+days later we were all pleased to see him
+back on the job again, although, of course,
+unable to fly. He had been operated on,
+but to lie in bed in a hospital was agony for
+him, so, slipping away, he managed to get
+back to the aerodrome, where he stayed.
+A few weeks later, unfortunately for us, he
+was promoted to the rank of colonel, and
+left. The squadron felt very badly at his
+loss for some time, and only the fact that
+the man who took his place was also of
+the same calibre ever reconciled us to it
+at all.</p>
+
+<p>The Huns seemed now to be concentrating
+a lot of flying in the evenings. Every
+evening, when we went out, we were certain
+of a fight, and usually a long fight, sometimes
+lasting as long as half an hour, and on
+one occasion lasting for three-quarters of
+an hour. These fights were always referred
+to as “dog fights,” as it nearly always meant
+just dashing in, then out again and in again,
+and never really doing any harm, yet always
+in a terrible sort of mix-up.</p>
+
+<p>On July 12th I was successful in coming<span class="pagenum" id="Page_256">256</span>
+up behind some Huns and managed to get
+another one down—crashed. Then, for
+several days, I had no more luck, although
+combats were numerous. On one occasion
+I was nearly caught in a bad trap, when, on
+following a machine, I suddenly saw about
+twenty more trying to close in around
+me. I left off the chase, and got out just
+in time.</p>
+
+<p>Almost every evening we would find
+well-laid traps set for us, and it required
+careful manœuvring and tactics to avoid
+falling into them. Several times, indeed, we
+did, and it took a lot of trouble to get out
+safely. Four or five Huns would come along,
+and we would engage them; then, while
+having a “dog fight,” suddenly as many as
+fifteen to twenty more would appear from
+all angles and join in the fight. This thing
+happened every day, and the Huns were
+evidently out to get us. They were devoting
+every energy to it, and if the men in the
+air had been as determined as the people
+on the ground who ordered them to go out,
+we would have had a more difficult time of it.</p>
+
+<p>One evening, while out, I managed to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_257">257</span>
+surprise a Hun, and got within 15 feet of
+his tail plane before I opened fire. Just a
+few shots, and he burst into flames, and fell.
+His companion did not stay, and managed
+to escape from me, diving vertically toward
+the ground. I shoved the nose of my
+machine down until it was pointing vertically
+as well, opening fire on him as the two
+of us dived; but his was a heavier machine
+than mine, and it fell faster, so he rapidly
+increased the distance between us, with the
+result that I was left behind. Coming out
+of my dive, I headed in a homeward direction.
+On the way, I saw a large “dog
+fight” going on, as many as twenty-five
+machines being engaged in it. I flew over
+to the mêlée as fast as I could reach it, afraid
+as usual that it would be over before I could
+get there; but luck was with me, as I
+managed to catch, on the edge of the fight,
+an enemy who was trying to attack one of our
+machines. He did not see me, and was
+flying straight away, so the shot was an easy
+one and could not be missed. I opened
+fire, and he fell out of control. Then, unable
+to watch him down, I went on to the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_258">258</span>
+other combats. Later, some of the other
+people reported they had seen him strike
+the earth, crash, and burst into flames; so
+there was not much doubt as to his fate.</p>
+
+<p>This “dog fight” lasted for twenty minutes
+after I had joined it. Several times
+the only intimation I had that anyone was
+firing on me would be the streaks of smoke
+as some bullets had passed near by. Sometimes
+the shooting would be so bad it would
+be over a hundred yards away; at other
+times within ten feet of me. But owing to
+the rapid way in which one manœuvres
+during such a fight, it was a very difficult
+thing to hit a man. The excitement of the
+fight, and the fact that it is necessary to
+watch all the time to avoid colliding with
+your friends, does not give one time to think
+of the danger of being hit, and, to tell the
+truth, you do not realize that these little
+streaks of smoke which go by you are really
+deadly bullets.</p>
+
+<p>The next day, while out, I tried to surprise
+three of the enemy, but failed, and
+found it necessary to engage the top one.
+I was slightly under him, and it was a difficult<span class="pagenum" id="Page_259">259</span>
+proposition. However, I managed to
+get as close as 50 yards and opened fire.
+The other two were now so near me that I
+felt it unhealthy to concentrate my attention
+altogether on one. For a few minutes,
+then, I had it rather warm. Every time
+one would begin to fire at me, I would switch
+the nose of my machine in his direction and
+fire a few bullets at random. This would
+make him turn away for a second. Then I
+would switch it to another. Suddenly an
+opportunity for escape presented itself. I
+took it as quickly as it came, and managed
+to get clean away. I then flew higher, and
+later found two more of the enemy, flying
+together. Again I decided to try a surprise,
+and this time was successful. Thirty yards
+away I got my sights well in line with a
+point on the enemy machine which would
+mean that I was going to hit the pilot, and
+I pulled the trigger. A moment later his
+machine side-slipped, turned completely over
+on its back, and then went down. Anxious
+to make it a double success, I turned to
+catch his comrade, but he had decided to
+escape, and was 300 yards away. I fired a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_260">260</span>
+few shots at him, just to hurry him up, and
+then turned to watch the machine I had
+brought down. It was still falling out of
+control, and away below me I saw it tumbling
+like a piece of paper thrown from a high
+window. Eventually it disappeared through
+the clouds.</p>
+
+<p>I did not have any feeling of compunction
+in cases like this. The idea of killing was,
+of course, always against my nature, but for
+two reasons I did not mind it: one, and the
+greater one, of course, being that it was
+another Hun down, and so much more good
+done in the war; secondly, it was paying
+back some of the debts I owed the Huns
+for robbing me of the best friends possible.
+Then, too, in the air one did not altogether
+feel the human side of it. As I
+have said before, it was not like killing a
+man so much as just bringing down a bird
+in sport.</p>
+
+<p>In going into a fight now, I felt none of
+those thrills which I used to feel at first.
+I was quite cool and collected, but probably
+did not enjoy it as much as I did in the days
+when a certain amount of anxiety and fear<span class="pagenum" id="Page_261">261</span>
+was felt just before the fight started. But
+the moment my machine gun commenced to
+fire, I felt the old feeling of exultation, and
+this always remained with me throughout
+the whole of every fight I have had.</p>
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_262">262</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XX">CHAPTER XX</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p class="in0"><span class="firstword">The</span> new machines were almost ready now
+and at any time we were to use them, but
+in the meantime I was working hard with
+my Nieuport. One day at noon, while out
+alone, I came as near being brought down
+as it was possible to be. There were very
+few machines in the sky, and about a thousand
+feet above some clouds I saw three of
+the Huns. If I had followed my old tactics,
+I would have carefully gone far away and
+climbed to high above them, then come
+down from that direction; but I suppose
+“familiarity breeds contempt,” and I imagine
+I was getting a little careless. Anyway, I
+had not the patience this time to waste all
+of those minutes, so I climbed straight up
+at them. It meant that I was going much
+slower than I would otherwise have been,
+with the dive. They were out of a squadron—I
+could tell by their markings—that I had<span class="pagenum" id="Page_263">263</span>
+often before attacked, and probably before
+I had seen them they had seen me.</p>
+
+<p>They let me come on up underneath them,
+knowing that I would not fire until I was
+at very close range. Then, when I was
+about 100 yards away and some 100 feet
+below, the whole three of them turned on
+me. I did not even have time to attempt
+an escape; the whole three were diving at
+me at once, all firing. It was an awkward
+moment, so I pulled my machine back and
+fired straight at one of them; then, switching
+quickly, I gave a burst to another. By
+this time the third was down to my level,
+so, turning, I faced him and opened fire. He
+“zoomed” up and reached several hundred
+feet above me, from where he dived
+again. It was a terrible moment, and I
+could not think how to escape, as they had
+the most favourable positions from which
+to attack me, and no danger of anybody
+worrying them while they were doing it.</p>
+
+<p>Then suddenly I realized that the clouds
+were only a thousand feet below me, and even
+less by this time, as I had been losing height,
+so with a kick of my rudder I threw my<span class="pagenum" id="Page_264">264</span>
+machine suddenly out of control, and let it
+stay out of control until I was enveloped in
+a soft, white, fleecy cloud. Here I knew
+that it was hopeless to try to regain control,
+so I waited. I must have gone through the
+clouds for over a thousand feet—it seemed
+years and years. I was terrified that it might
+be a thick, thick cloud, all the way down to
+the ground. However, suddenly I saw things
+appearing, and underneath me was the
+ground. I was in a spinning nose-dive, but
+it was easy to recover control, and I flattened
+away and flew straight back to the aerodrome.
+It was a lesson to me, and, strange
+to say, the last occasion upon which I had
+a good opportunity to try that stunt, as a
+few days later we went on to the new
+machines.</p>
+
+<p>When our first job on the new machines
+came, it was a great moment for me. I felt
+that at last the time had arrived when I
+could really do some good work, so went
+after it with my heart altogether on it.</p>
+
+<p>On our first job we were told we must not
+cross the lines—only just stay on them, and
+chase anything away. You can imagine<span class="pagenum" id="Page_265">265</span>
+how pleased I was, after carefully getting
+up to the required height, and feeling this
+wonderful, new, high-powered machine under
+me, suddenly to see an enemy machine on
+our side. I gave chase, but it slipped across
+the lines when I was only half a mile away.
+I was very much annoyed to be unable to
+follow it.</p>
+
+<p>To get on these new machines, after the
+old ones, made one feel that all you had to
+do was to open fire on any old enemy at all—just
+get near enough to him to do that—and
+he was bound to be yours. As a matter
+of fact it was almost that easy, and the
+strenuous days of fighting that I had experienced
+on a Nieuport were really gone.
+The new job was much less of work and
+much more of pleasure.</p>
+
+<p>Then my disgust was great when the
+weather became bad, and stayed that way
+for three days. However, by this time I
+had been able to get my machine into better
+order, and was keener for a fight than I had
+ever been before.</p>
+
+<p>I went out alone as soon as the weather
+was fit, and after patrolling over the enemy<span class="pagenum" id="Page_266">266</span>
+territory for several hours I saw one two-seater
+at a tremendous height. I could not
+get quite up to him, but when a thousand feet
+underneath, I pulled my machine back until
+it pointed straight up, and fired that way.
+I did this twice, but both times failed to do
+any damage. We had then reached so far
+into enemy territory that I thought it advisable
+to return home, so turned and came
+back. The anti-aircraft fire seemed to be
+absolutely nothing to worry about, compared
+to what it had been in the slower
+machine. We were twenty-five miles an
+hour faster, and it made a great difference.
+The shells seemed all to burst behind me, and
+far away. I felt that all the risk had gone,
+and that I was now in for a real good time
+in France.</p>
+
+<p>On the 28th of the month I went out in
+the evening to do a patrol, just on the German
+side of the lines. Faithfully I stayed
+at this place for over an hour, but then it
+became more than I could stand, as there
+was not a German machine in sight. I
+decided to take a look in Hunland. I flew
+about fifteen miles in before I saw a single<span class="pagenum" id="Page_267">267</span>
+German, and then, well off to one side, there
+were three of them. I did not care whether
+they had seen me or not; all I wanted to
+do was to get right into the middle of them
+and mix it up, so I came straight at them.
+They had seen me, however, and one, detaching
+himself from the rest, came in my direction.
+He came straight at me, and we
+approached head on, both of us with our
+engines in front, and both firing two guns.
+I could see his bullets streaking by about
+5 feet to the left of me, and mine, as I
+watched them through my sights, seemed
+to be making better shooting. He suddenly
+swerved, but I managed to get into
+a favourable position behind him in the
+course of one or two turns, and again opened
+fire. This time I was altogether successful,
+as his machine suddenly burst into flames.
+The others had kept well away, and were
+now escaping as fast as they could. I did
+my best to catch one up, and if we had only
+been a little higher would have done so, but
+I felt I was getting too close to the ground
+that distance behind the lines, so opening
+fire from long range, I shot away about 100<span class="pagenum" id="Page_268">268</span>
+rounds, then turned and headed toward
+home. It was my first Hun shot down in
+this new type of machine, and the first in
+the squadron.</p>
+
+<p>Late one evening I went out again in a
+Nieuport, and got mixed up in a bad “dog
+fight.” It lasted for three-quarters of an
+hour, and during that whole time I don’t
+think fifteen seconds went by that I did
+not have to turn my machine sharply in
+one direction or another, or do some other
+manœuvre.</p>
+
+<p>While engaging a few machines at the
+top of the fight, I saw underneath me a
+Nieuport, evidently in difficulty in the middle
+of a lot of Huns, so with one other of my
+squadron I started down to him, fighting
+all the way and striving for nothing but to
+frighten the Huns off, in order that we could
+get there in time to help our man. He
+seemed to be fighting very well, as his
+machine was turning around to the left,
+banking vertically, and turning very quickly.
+At 12,000 feet we started this, but by the
+time we had reached him he was 500 feet
+from the ground. I had long ago wondered<span class="pagenum" id="Page_269">269</span>
+what was the matter, as he was going down
+almost as fast as we could come down to
+him. I could not understand why he did
+not see us, and in some way realize that if
+he stayed there a moment we would be
+down to help him; but instead his machine
+kept turning, doing a left-hand spiral, and
+going down rapidly. At 1,000 feet from
+him we managed to frighten away the two
+Huns, who were both engaging him. Then,
+turning to clear the fight, I looked over my
+shoulder to see if he was following; but no—he
+was still in the spiral. I was afraid,
+for the moment, that he thought I was another
+Hun, so went off to one side for a bit,
+but he continued spiralling, and realizing that
+something was very wrong, I flew back
+toward him.</p>
+
+<p>Just at that moment his machine spiralled
+straight into the ground, a few hundred feet
+underneath me. I made two or three turns
+over the spot, regardless of the fight above
+me, to determine whether or not he had
+been badly hurt, but could not see. I expected,
+every moment, some people to come
+running up and work at the smashed<span class="pagenum" id="Page_270">270</span>
+machine to get him out, but there was no
+sign of anybody moving. The other
+Nieuport that had come down with me
+was lower than I was, and the idea seemed
+to come to both of us, as the country appeared
+smooth enough, to land and see
+what was wrong. We both thought we were
+well this side of our own lines, as the trenches
+could be seen about three-quarters of a mile
+to the east of us. Picking out a smooth
+piece of ground just near the smashed
+machine, I came down to glide on to it.
+Then, hearing the crackle of rifles and
+machine guns around, I put my engine on
+again and turned away, cursing the people
+on the ground for firing at me, thinking all
+the time it was our own troops making a
+mistake. I had now come down to a height
+of several hundred feet, and suddenly saw
+German uniforms in a small hollow in the
+ground underneath me. It was a narrow
+escape, as both of us might have landed
+there and quietly been taken prisoners,
+without ever having a chance to escape.</p>
+
+<p>A few days later I learned that in this
+particular place the people holding the line<span class="pagenum" id="Page_271">271</span>
+were not in trenches, but in outposts, practically
+in the open field, and the line of
+trenches behind them was the Hindenburg
+line, where the Germans evidently intended
+retreating, when necessary.</p>
+
+<p>Almost every one of my fights in the new
+machine were successful. Three of us went
+out early one Sunday morning, when the
+sun, shining from the east on a thick ground-mist,
+made it very difficult to see. Clouds
+were also in the sky, making it impossible
+to go above 7,000 feet. Our new type of
+machines were evidently greatly feared by
+the Germans, as the moment we approached
+the lines, two two-seaters of the enemy,
+while just specks in the distance, were obviously
+signalled to from the ground, for
+they immediately dived straight down and
+did not return. This happened again fifteen
+minutes later, when we sighted another
+of the artillery machines. They were
+terrified of this type, and would not stay to
+fight us.</p>
+
+<p>Then suddenly I saw four enemy scouts,
+and at the same moment they saw us. They
+approached, obviously with the intention<span class="pagenum" id="Page_272">272</span>
+of attacking us, but when only 300 yards
+away recognized the machines we were flying,
+and turned away quickly. They had
+been looking for easier prey, and were not
+very anxious for battle. We went after
+them, though, and owing to our superior
+speed were able to catch up with them. Into
+the middle of them we went, and there
+followed a merry scrap. One of our trio, by
+some misfortune, got mixed up in a bad
+position, as he was not seen again, and must
+have been shot down. The other man’s
+guns had both jammed at the beginning of
+the fight, and he was so furious at this bad
+luck that for several minutes he stayed in
+the fight, just to bluff the Huns. Then one
+of them made it a little nasty for him, and
+it was necessary to escape. Back to the
+lines he went, making short dashes of 100
+yards every now and then, two Huns following
+him all the way, and firing at him
+as he went, but owing to pure good flying
+and clever manœuvring he was able to
+avoid even having his machine hit. Then,
+on looking back from the lines, he saw the
+fight going on some distance over, and realizing<span class="pagenum" id="Page_273">273</span>
+that I was alone in the middle of it
+he came back all that way, without either
+of his guns in working order. I referred to
+this in an earlier part of my book, and I
+still think it one of the bravest deeds I have
+ever heard of, as he had a hard time getting
+back to me, and then also in escaping a
+second time. He returned to the aerodrome,
+landed, had his guns fixed, and immediately
+hastened out again in the hope he would be
+able to help me.</p>
+
+<figure id="i_287" class="figcenter" style="max-width: 47em;">
+  <img src="images/i_287.jpg" width="2963" height="1863" alt="">
+  <figcaption class="caption">
+
+<p class="right">
+Canadian Official Photograph
+</p>
+
+<p>Remains of a Hun Two-seater, brought down in flames.</p>
+  </figcaption>
+</figure>
+
+<p>I, for my part, was having the time of my
+life. The rattle of my two machine guns was
+too much for the Huns, altogether. They
+did not like it at all. I was above the whole
+lot of them, the original four having been
+joined by three others now, and they were
+trying to separate enough so that one or two
+of their number could get to one side, then
+climb up and get on top of me. But the
+moment one of them would begin to go over
+to one side I would begin to climb, until I
+would point my nose in his direction, and,
+flying at wonderful speed, shoot across there,
+opening fire with rough aim, and down he
+would dive under the rest. This actually<span class="pagenum" id="Page_274">274</span>
+went on for fifteen minutes, during which
+time another of the enemy came along, and
+seeing only one British machine in all those
+Huns, felt safe in attacking me. I opened
+fire on him with my two guns, and the
+rattle of them again was sufficient. He did
+not even return the fire, but dived down
+and got under the other seven.</p>
+
+<p>After this had gone on about ten minutes,
+I realized that actually to bring them down
+I must do better shooting, so picking out the
+one which was higher than the rest, I concentrated
+on him and got within 50 yards
+of him, when I opened fire. He immediately
+turned over on his back, righted himself,
+turned over on his back again, and then fell
+completely out of control. The others I
+was unable to get, but continued in the
+fight in the hope that I would be more successful.
+Out of the corner of my eye I
+could see a heavy thunderstorm coming up
+from the direction of the aerodrome. I had
+to keep my mind on this, as I realized that it
+was a matter of judging just how long I
+could keep up the fight before I must make a
+break for it. At last I decided I had better<span class="pagenum" id="Page_275">275</span>
+go, so after a final survey of my “docile
+children,” who seemed to be just sitting
+under my thumb, I picked out the two or
+three highest ones and pointed my nose in
+their direction, on which they dropped down
+obediently. Then, seizing the opportunity,
+I dashed away and escaped. They must
+have been very furious indeed and it must
+have been bad for the morale of the German
+infantrymen and gunners on the ground to
+look up and see one British machine on top
+of all these Huns, holding them absolutely
+under his dominion. I reached the aerodrome
+ten minutes before the thunderstorm
+broke.</p>
+
+<p>Bad weather then held again for over a
+week, and it was impossible to fly at all.
+The evening that it cleared up I was leading
+my patrol—all of us on the new machines—when
+I sighted eight of the enemy two miles
+the other side of the lines. It was just a
+half-hour before dark, and the light was
+very bad. I put my engine full on, and
+headed in their direction. My machine being
+slightly faster than the remainder of my
+patrol, I managed to get a bit ahead of them,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_276">276</span>
+and carefully picking out the leader of the
+enemy formation, opened on him. After I
+had fired about twenty rounds, he turned
+completely around and headed under me.
+I turned my sights on to another of his
+formation, and tried to catch him. Then,
+over my shoulder, I suddenly saw the machine
+I had first fired at burst into flames in a
+most extraordinary way. It happened quite
+near two of the rest of my patrol, and incidentally
+rather frightened them, as the
+machine, which had been smoking slightly,
+suddenly burst into the whitest flame and
+fell to the ground, like a ball of livid fire.
+The man had evidently not been killed, as
+the machine was not falling out of control,
+but diving almost vertically toward the
+ground. Several times, out of the corner of
+my eye, I glanced at it as it still fell. Probably
+it was the bad light that made the
+flames show so white, but the glare was seen
+for twenty miles around by people on the
+ground.</p>
+
+<p>I then made an acquaintance whom I
+grew to know quite well during the next
+week or so. It was a silver machine, with<span class="pagenum" id="Page_277">277</span>
+small black crosses on it. The pilot had
+carefully painted his machine, as the silver
+had been put on to represent the scales of
+a fish, and covered his planes as well as the
+body of his machine. During this fight he
+caused me a lot of worry. Several times I
+was just able to concentrate on one or two
+others, when this flying fish would butt in,
+and force me to a great deal of manœuvring
+to escape him. Over and over again, while
+under me, he would pull up his nose
+and open fire. I would then point my nose
+down and open back at him, and he
+would turn away. This was his one
+weakness—he would not come head on; so
+I tried that bluff whenever he began to fire
+at me.</p>
+
+<p>It was well that I knew this during the
+fights which followed in the next week. In
+the middle of this fight both of my guns
+suddenly jammed, and I could not get them
+to work. I struggled with them, all the
+time manœuvring around so that I would not
+be hit myself. One of the enemy, besides the
+silver man, had noticed that my guns would
+not fire, and the two of them came at me<span class="pagenum" id="Page_278">278</span>
+and came right up close on one occasion.
+Just as they did this I managed to get my
+guns to work, and opened fire, sending the
+second man down out of control. Old
+“Silversides,” however, had been too wily
+even to get near the range of my guns, and
+did nothing but cause me a lot of worry.
+It was getting dark now, and time to break
+off the fight, so I decided to escape. Once
+again the silver fellow came butting in.
+Every time I would turn toward the lines,
+he would come at me and open fire. I would
+dart across his sights, giving him a hard
+shot, then suddenly turn as if I were going
+to fire at him. He would turn the nose of
+his machine away immediately, and I would
+have a chance again to make a dart for the
+front. In this way I managed to reach the
+lines, where he left me. I then returned
+home, with two more machines to my
+credit.</p>
+
+<p>The next machine I got was the fortieth
+aeroplane I had brought down, and, counting
+my two balloons, my forty-second
+victory. I had gone out in the morning,
+about half-past eight, and there did not<span class="pagenum" id="Page_279">279</span>
+seem to be many aeroplanes in the sky.
+I saw a single-seater some distance in
+toward Germany, and went in after him.
+He was, however, no picnic. The pilot was
+one of the very best. Several times we
+almost got shots at each other, but never a
+good one. Finally, I opened fire at random,
+and was greatly surprised to see him go into
+a spinning dive, but it looked suspicious,
+and I watched. A little below me he regained
+control. I dived vertically after
+him, but was diving too fast, so shot right by
+him, and he turned away and tried to escape,
+diving in the opposite direction. I had a
+second dive after him, but he again went
+into a spin, even before I had opened fire,
+and continued spinning straight into the
+clouds, where I lost him. I had the comfort,
+however, of knowing that he was not
+very happy in that spin, as all the time he
+was going down I was rattling away at
+him with my guns.</p>
+
+<p>Fifteen minutes later I brought down
+that fortieth machine. I had seen a two-seater
+at a tremendous height above me,
+just a speck in the sky. I was not sure at<span class="pagenum" id="Page_280">280</span>
+the moment whether he was British or German,
+and decided, as there was nothing more
+interesting, to fly in his direction. He was
+about two miles our side of the lines, and
+I imagine now that he was busy taking
+photographs. When I was about a mile
+away he saw me, and headed for home. I
+was still 2,000 feet underneath him, and,
+owing to climbing, was not approaching very
+fast. However, he did the thing I wished
+for most of all—he put his nose down to
+lose height and gain more speed. I was
+much faster than he was, so I flew level. In
+a few minutes he had reached my level, and
+was still losing height. We were now four
+or five miles inside his own lines, and I was
+also losing height slightly to gain greater
+speed. Finally, I managed to get partly
+into the blind spot underneath his tail, and
+was rather amused at the observer firing
+away merrily all the time at me, even when
+he could hardly see me. I decided to stay
+there for a minute, in the hope that his gun
+would jam, or something of that sort happen.
+Then I proposed to dash in and finish him
+off at close range. But we travelled on<span class="pagenum" id="Page_281">281</span>
+another two miles without anything happening,
+and had now come down to 6,000
+feet. It was getting too low for my liking,
+and we were too far from home, so opening
+my machine full out I shot in to 75 yards
+from him, and fired. One burst did the
+trick, and he began falling in every conceivable
+sort of way. I rather hoped he
+would go into flames or fall to pieces, but
+nothing of that sort occurred, and finally,
+in a spinning nose-dive, he crashed into a
+field.</p>
+
+<p>Then I had one of the nastiest times of
+my life—the return trip home. At 6,000 feet
+I started. Every anti-aircraft gun in the
+neighbourhood opened fire at me, and they
+did some wonderful shooting that day.
+Everywhere I turned there seemed to be
+huge shells bursting. Several times I heard
+the little “plank” as they hit my machine
+in some place, and once quite a large piece
+struck a plane. I decided that I would lose
+still more height, in order to come home
+at a tremendous pace, but in my excitement
+had forgotten which way the wind was
+blowing, and have later decided that that<span class="pagenum" id="Page_282">282</span>
+was why I was such an easy mark. I was
+going straight into the teeth of a forty-mile
+gale, and consequently my speed was much
+slower than I thought it was. The “Archie”
+people seemed to have gone mad, or anxious
+to use up all the ammunition they had in
+France; anyway, the air was black with
+bursting shells, and after I had finally
+reached the lines I looked back, and for five
+miles could see a path of black smoke from
+the shells which had been fired at me. They
+must have fired 500 in all, but luckily I was
+still intact.</p>
+
+<p>One day, just at this time, I had truly
+a wonderful surprise. It had been a very
+rainy day, and as there was no flying I went
+over to lunch with a cousin of mine, who
+was stationed only three miles away. After
+luncheon I returned, and upon seeing my
+new squadron commander went up to speak
+to him. He told me that the General in
+command of the Flying Corps had been
+trying to get me on the telephone, and said
+he wanted to speak to me when I came in.
+I could not imagine why so important a
+person as the General should want to speak<span class="pagenum" id="Page_283">283</span>
+to little “me,” but rang him up. My cup
+of happiness overflowed when he told me
+that he wanted to be the first to congratulate
+me upon being awarded the Victoria
+Cross.</p>
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_284">284</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXI">CHAPTER XXI</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p class="in0"><span class="firstword">I could</span> hardly hold myself down after hearing
+the great news.</p>
+
+<p>Walking across the aerodrome to the
+squadron headquarters, which was stationed
+on the other side, I had tea with the men
+there and then came back. The next night
+we had a big celebration in the way of a
+dinner, and managed to collect guests who
+came quite big distances to be there. It
+was a wonderful success, lasting until after
+midnight, and several of our guests remained
+all night and returned early the next
+morning.</p>
+
+<p>I had a most exciting fight soon after this.
+The Germans seemed to know my machine,
+which I had had specially marked with red,
+white, and blue paint, and in nearly every
+fight I found that many attempts were
+made to trap me. Several times I had very
+narrow escapes in getting away, but always<span class="pagenum" id="Page_285">285</span>
+managed at the last moment to squeeze out
+of it.</p>
+
+<p>It was while flying just under the clouds,
+I suspected a trap, as the machine with
+which I was fighting did not seem particularly
+anxious to come to close quarters, so
+pulled my machine back and “zoomed”
+up through the clouds. The layer was very
+thin, and I suddenly emerged in the blue
+sky on the upper side, and just as I did so,
+I saw the last of a group of German scouts
+diving vertically. A little to one side there
+was a huge black burst of German high explosive.
+The whole thing was obvious to
+me at once. The pilot under the clouds
+had led me to this particular spot, while the
+people above had been signalled when to
+dive through to get me.</p>
+
+<p>My revenge was very sweet, because in
+the heat of the moment, not minding the
+odds, I dived after them. I came out to
+find them still diving in front of me, so being
+not far from one machine, and directly behind
+it, I opened fire with both guns. It
+did not need careful shooting; the man
+went down, never knowing he was hit, continuing<span class="pagenum" id="Page_286">286</span>
+his dive straight into the ground.
+I then pulled up and climbed back into the
+clouds, and over them, and got away without
+even a bullet-hole in my machine.</p>
+
+<p>That same afternoon I had several more
+fights, and ran up against my silver friend
+again. He was a most persistent rascal,
+although not very brave in actual fight, and
+would never leave me alone when I was
+trying to quit a combat. Several times he
+followed me right back over our own side
+of the lines, firing every chance he could get.
+But even when he was fairly certain my guns
+were not working, he would not come to
+close quarters, which, however, was probably
+lucky for me. He was not a good
+shot from long range, but the next day he
+managed to get underneath one of our
+machines and shot it about quite badly,
+causing it to return at once and land, seriously
+damaged.</p>
+
+<p>Several indecisive fights took place about
+this time, much on the same lines as many
+others I have described; each one as exciting
+as the others, but much the same
+story, both sides ending by breaking off the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_287">287</span>
+combats and returning. Several times we
+lost pilots, and also several times others of
+the squadron shot down enemy machines.</p>
+
+<p>The weather was very bad for some time
+after this, and although we prayed and
+prayed for just a few days to get a chance
+to fight, each morning would find us more
+restless and worked up because there did not
+seem to be a chance to get into the air at all.</p>
+
+<p>I was especially keen at this time to fly
+every moment that was possible, because I
+had learned a few days before that I would
+probably be returned to England shortly,
+for a job there of some sort. I was not at
+all keen on this, but being a soldier it was
+not, of course, my opinion that counted,
+and my work was simply to do as I was told,
+and to go where I was sent.</p>
+
+<p>One evening I fell into a very nasty trap
+indeed, just at dusk. I had suddenly seen
+a single machine of the enemy in front of
+me, and slightly below. It seemed too good
+to be true, and I should have known that
+there was something funny about it; however,
+down I went on top of him, but somehow
+missed with my first burst of fire. He<span class="pagenum" id="Page_288">288</span>
+dived away a bit and I kept on after him, but
+by continually diving he kept just out of
+my reach. This started at 10,000 feet down,
+and I finally found myself at 2,000 feet, and
+well in the enemy territory. Then, at last,
+I suspected a trap, and looked about to see
+what was likely to happen. Sure enough,
+from above enemy machines were coming
+down after me, so I turned toward my own
+lines. There in front of me were twelve
+more of the Huns. This left nothing to do
+but turn back and fly farther into enemy
+territory. This I did, losing height so as to
+increase my speed. Along I went, with the
+whole swarm behind. It was lucky for me
+that my machine was so much faster than
+theirs. I had to zigzag in my course until
+I was a least 400 yards in the lead of their
+first machine, then I flew straight. Dusk
+was coming on, and I was late and worried as
+to what to do.</p>
+
+<p>However, there was no advantage in giving
+in, so I went on as fast as I could tear.
+I was terrified that I would meet another
+patrol, but after I had gone about twenty
+miles straight east, I realized the chance<span class="pagenum" id="Page_289">289</span>
+for that was very slight, and this comforted
+me a great deal. But I was still worried
+as to how I was to get home, as I knew they
+would wait higher up for me if I climbed.
+As dusk settled down, I managed to shake
+off the pack and get completely out of their
+sight. Then I climbed steadily and turned
+back toward our own lines. It was light
+in the upper sky, but quite dark near the
+ground, and I was at least thirty miles over
+the German lines. I was never so mad in
+my life, the annoying part being that such
+a simple little trick had fooled me into getting
+into such a nasty position. I had to
+fly by compass in the approximate direction
+of home, and just as I reached the lines
+sighted a lighthouse which I knew, flashing
+in the dusk. I was happy then and able
+to land in the last five minutes of light. If
+I had been just that much later, it would
+have meant a bad crash landing, for I would
+have had no idea as to the exact spot where
+the aerodrome was; but luck was with me
+still, and I came down without even straining
+a wire of my machine.</p>
+
+<p>I was disgusted with myself, as it was a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_290">290</span>
+bad show, taken all around, and so mad
+that I would not hand in a report to tell the
+shameful tale on me.</p>
+
+<p>The day that I learned I was likely to
+return to England I went out in the evening,
+and in a very short space of time crammed
+in a lot of excitement. Flying around
+beneath the clouds, I had been unable for
+a time to find anything to fight. There was
+a complete layer of clouds all over the sky,
+and this made flying in enemy territory very
+difficult. The dark sky was such a good
+background the anti-aircraft guns could
+pick you out with great accuracy. I
+forgot about such troubles quickly when I
+saw several of the enemy some five miles
+on their side of the lines. Wanting to surprise
+them, I climbed up to the clouds and
+then through them. At first I went into
+what seemed a very sullen cloud, with dark
+grey and heavy mist all about me, the view
+being limited to a space of 10 feet. As I
+climbed higher up, the colour grew lighter
+and lighter until at last above me was nothing
+but blue sky and sunshine. The top
+of the clouds was as flat as a table. It<span class="pagenum" id="Page_291">291</span>
+looked as if one could land on it and sit
+there all day.</p>
+
+<p>I kept flying along, carefully watching my
+compass to get the correct direction, also
+gazing at the beautiful cloud-pictures around
+me, when suddenly, just above, I heard the
+old wicked rattle of a pair of machine guns.
+Pulling up, I looked about and saw coming
+down straight on me from in front, three
+enemy scouts. The leader, to my great
+joy, I recognized as the man who had
+trapped me so badly in the fight just told of.
+He was well ahead of the other two, who were
+trailing behind him, and I knew, if I could
+only shoot well, I would have a chance to
+get him without being worried by the others,
+until they could reach the fight. On we
+came, head on, both firing as fast as we
+could. I saw his smoking bullets going
+streaking by about 4 feet above my head,
+and what annoyed me a bit was the fact
+that they were passing that spot in a well-concentrated
+group, showing that he had
+his shooting well in hand and was quite cool.
+I have never fired with more care in my life.
+I took sight on the engine of his machine,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_292">292</span>
+knowing, if I hit it, some of the bullets would
+slide along its edge and get the pilot, who
+was just behind. On we came toward each
+other, at tremendous speed. I could see
+my bullets hitting his machine, and at the
+same instant his bullets scattered badly, so
+it was obvious he had become nervous and
+was not shooting as well as before. Suddenly
+he swerved, and tried to pass slightly to my
+left. I kept going straight at him, firing
+both guns. My bullets were all around
+the pilot’s seat by this time and seemed to
+be hitting him. The next machine had come
+in now, firing at me, and too near for me to
+turn after the first one, so I turned toward
+the second Hun. My third opponent did
+not like the look of the fight, and kept well
+off to one side, diving away to escape a
+few seconds later. I looked over my shoulder
+to see what was happening to the first
+man, and was overjoyed to see his machine,
+a mass of flames and smoke, just commencing
+to fall. The second man I manœuvred
+with, doing almost two complete turns before
+being able to get in the shot I wanted.
+Then there was no trouble at all. With the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_293">293</span>
+first round he also burst into flames, and
+fell, following the other through the clouds.
+I looked for the third man, who had just
+dived away, anxious to wipe out the whole
+crowd. I dived after him. Down through
+the clouds we plunged, and, emerging, I saw
+he was well out of my reach, so I turned to
+watch my two victims. They were both
+falling within a thousand feet of each other,
+two flaming masses, crashing in death to the
+earth.</p>
+
+<p>In a few days I was to go on another leave
+to England, so I put in every moment that
+I could in the air, trying to increase the
+number of machines to my credit. In this
+way, one evening, I came upon three, and
+managed to surprise them in the old way
+that I had done so often when I was flying
+a Nieuport. I dived on the rear and highest
+one, but found I did not have the patience
+to crawl up to my usual range. Two guns
+hardly made it necessary as before, so I
+opened fire at a little over 100 yards. As
+in the old days, there was no second stage
+to it at all—down he went completely out
+of control; and I stayed above, the other<span class="pagenum" id="Page_294">294</span>
+two having escaped, and watched him
+falling 8,000 feet.</p>
+
+<p>This was my forty-fifth victory, and the
+next day I had my forty-sixth and forty-seventh,
+in two fights shortly following one
+another.</p>
+
+<p>It was the evening before I was to leave
+for England, and, to my great disgust, I had
+been unable to catch sight of a single
+German. So I flew north to watch a Canadian
+attack at Lens. There was a great battle
+going on, and for fifteen minutes I watched
+it raging. Then, chancing to look up above
+me, I saw a two-seater of the enemy coming
+toward our lines. It really seemed to be
+just a godsend, so I went straight at him
+almost head on—that is, coming up slightly
+from below, but in front of him. I fired
+at him as I came, and as no result appeared,
+when I was 100 yards away, I dived and
+came up, pointing my nose straight up into
+the sky, as he flew across over me. Then
+I fired again. Suddenly the planes on one
+side of the Hun appeared to break and fall
+back, then to sweep away entirely, and the
+machine fell in fragments. It was not a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_295">295</span>
+nice sight. I had evidently hit the machine
+in a lucky place, which had caused it to
+break, but in all probability the occupants
+were still alive. However, it was not for
+me to pity them at that stage of the game,
+and I could not put them out of their misery,
+so I remained above and watched them fall.</p>
+
+<p>Two scouts had appeared just before I
+attacked this two-seater, but when I went
+toward them they had flown away. A
+minute later I saw them flying toward me.
+They did not want to fight, though, and
+turned away, heading in an easterly direction.
+The range was too far for me to open
+fire, so I chased them a bit, a distance of
+about two miles. They managed to keep
+300 yards away, and as the wind was blowing
+me into Germany at the rate of sixty miles
+an hour, besides my own speed, I decided it
+was not worth while. Before leaving off
+the chase I thought I might as well send
+a few shots after them, as it might be my
+last chance to fight in France. I took very
+careful aim on the rear machine and opened
+fire. The Hun suddenly went into a spinning
+nose-dive and fell toward earth. I<span class="pagenum" id="Page_296">296</span>
+did not think for a moment I had hit him at
+that range, but watched to see just what
+game the German was playing. Down he
+went all the way from 13,000 feet to the
+ground, and crashed—a complete wreck.
+A lucky bullet must have hit the pilot and
+killed him instantly. It was indeed my
+last fight in France, and the next day I
+went to England on leave, and also to
+attend an investiture at Buckingham Palace,
+at which I was to receive the whole three
+of my decorations.</p>
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_297">297</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXII">CHAPTER XXII</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p class="in0"><span class="firstword">When</span> I left the aerodrome to start for
+England I had a vague feeling I would not
+be back again. I had heard nothing more
+about my transfer, but the very fact that
+there was a great deal of uncertainty made
+me anxious, and I remember, when leaving
+the old place, turning around to have a last
+look at it. I was lucky to find a car going
+all the way to Boulogne that day, and with
+four others, one of whom was going back
+to England for good, made the trip. On
+the way we stopped at a village where there
+was a famous farm for French police-dogs.
+We spent an interesting hour there, while the
+French lady who owned the dogs showed us
+all around her beautiful place. The dogs
+were of all ages, from two-weeks old puppies
+to full French champions. We left there just
+in time to reach Boulogne for luncheon—my
+last meal in France, as I managed to catch
+a boat for England at 2 o’clock.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_298">298</span></p>
+
+<p>Eight o’clock that night saw me in London,
+and I was certainly glad to get there.
+At 9 o’clock I was in the middle of a big
+dinner, given by several of my friends, after
+which we went to a dance. It seemed years
+since I had been near London, and every
+sight and every sound was joyful to me.
+A few days later, though, I left town and
+went to the country.</p>
+
+<p>About this time word came through that
+I was not going back to France. I was very
+disappointed. I reported for duty, but was
+given a few weeks’ more leave in which to
+rest up. During this time I went to the
+investiture by the King. I had, on the
+previous day, received a telegram of instructions,
+telling me to report at Buckingham
+Palace at 10.30 in the morning dressed
+in service uniform. At 10.10 I was there,
+not wishing to be behind time on such an
+occasion, and realizing I had better find
+out before it happened just what was expected
+of me. Walking into the Palace I
+came to a hat-stand, where everybody was
+checking things. I handed in my hat,
+gloves, and stick, whereupon I was told to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_299">299</span>
+hang on to the gloves, wearing one on my
+left hand and carrying the other. Then, following
+a number of other officers, also there
+to be decorated, I came to a room in which
+a General was standing. I asked him where
+I was to go, and he asked me what I was
+getting. I began the long rigmarole of
+V.C., D.S.O., and M.C., but before I had
+finished he told me to go in with the D.S.O.s,
+as I was the only V.C. So I slipped away
+into a room where there were about 150
+other officers. After waiting there for over
+half an hour, another General came in, and
+gave us explicit instructions as to what to
+do in the King’s presence. It was a terrible
+moment for all of us.</p>
+
+<p>Finally, the doors opened and we were
+headed toward the room in which the King
+was standing with his staff. Following some
+Generals and Colonels, who were being admitted
+to the Order of St. Michael and
+St. George, it came my turn to march in.
+I knew my instructions well. Ten yards
+across to the middle of the room, and then
+a turn to the left and bow. Imagine my
+consternation, when, at the first of those<span class="pagenum" id="Page_300">300</span>
+ten paces, one of my boots began to squeak.
+Somehow or other I managed to get to the
+proper place, where I was facing His Majesty.
+Here I had to listen to an account of my
+own deeds, read by one of the staff, while I
+myself stood stiffly at attention. Then, approaching
+the King, he hooked three medals
+on my breast. These had been handed to him
+on a cushion. He congratulated me on winning
+them, and said it was the first time he had
+been able to give all three to any one person.</p>
+
+<p>After a short, one-sided conversation, in
+which my only attempt to speak failed
+utterly, although all I was trying to say
+was “Yes, sir,” he shook hands with me,
+and I bowed and backed away, turning and
+walking thirty squeaky paces to a door in
+the corner of the room. The moment I
+reached the outside of this door I thought
+I had been thrown into the arms of a highway
+robber. A man suddenly stepped from
+one side, and before I could stop him had
+snatched the three glittering medals off my
+chest, and was fifteen yards ahead of me on
+the way down the hall before I realized what
+had happened. I took after him, not knowing<span class="pagenum" id="Page_301">301</span>
+what to do, but he picked up three
+boxes from a table, put the medals in, and
+handed them back to me. Then he returned
+to meet the next man coming out,
+who incidentally was a great friend of mine
+and also in the Flying Corps. The next
+thing to be feared was the crowd at the
+Palace gates, and the photographers.
+Luckily, I had a car waiting in the enclosure,
+and thus managed to evade everybody.</p>
+
+<p>A week later I was promoted to the rank
+of Major, and also learned that I had been
+awarded a bar to my Distinguished Service
+Order ribbon. Good news, like bad luck,
+never comes singly. A few days after that
+I heard I had been granted permission to
+go home to Canada for a visit. The notice
+was short, but within eighteen hours I had
+made all arrangements, and was on a train
+to catch the boat sailing from Liverpool
+next day. Within two weeks I was home.</p>
+
+<p class="p2 center smaller">THE END</p>
+
+<p class="p2 center small"><i>Printed in Great Britain by Hazell, Watson &amp; Viney, Ld.,<br>
+London and Aylesbury.</i></p>
+
+<div class="chapter transnote">
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="Transcribers_Notes">Transcriber’s Notes</h2>
+
+<p>Punctuation, hyphenation, and spelling were made
+consistent when a predominant preference was found
+in the original book; otherwise they were not changed.</p>
+
+<p>Simple typographical errors were corrected; unbalanced
+quotation marks were remedied when the change was
+obvious, and otherwise left unbalanced.</p>
+
+<p>Illustrations in this eBook have been positioned
+between paragraphs and outside quotations. In versions
+of this eBook that support hyperlinks, the page
+references in the List of Illustrations lead to the
+corresponding illustrations.</p>
+
+<p><a href="#Page_1">Page 1</a>: “Missisauga” was printed that way.</p>
+<div>                                                                                                                                                                                                                           </div>
+</div>
+
+<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75637 ***</div>
+</body>
+</html>
+
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+Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for
+eBook #75637 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/75637)