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diff --git a/75637-h/75637-h.htm b/75637-h/75637-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..8d2bdc9 --- /dev/null +++ b/75637-h/75637-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,8394 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html lang="en"> +<head> + <meta charset="UTF-8"> + <title> + Winged Warfare | Project Gutenberg + </title> + <link rel="icon" href="images/cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover"> + <style> /* <![CDATA[ */ + +body { + margin-left: 2.5em; + margin-right: 2.5em; +} +.x-ebookmaker body {margin: 0;} +.x-ebookmaker-drop {color: inherit;} + +h1, h2 { + text-align: center; + clear: both; + margin-top: 2.5em; + margin-bottom: 1em; + word-spacing: .2em; +} + +h1 {line-height: 1;} + +h2.chap {margin-bottom: 0;} +h2+p {margin-top: 1.5em;} +.x-ebookmaker h1, .x-ebookmaker .chapter, .x-ebookmaker .section {page-break-before: always;} +.x-ebookmaker h1.nobreak, .x-ebookmaker h2.nobreak, .x-ebookmaker .nobreak {page-break-before: avoid; padding-top: 0;} + +.transnote h2 { + margin-top: .5em; + margin-bottom: 1em; +} + +p { + text-indent: 1.75em; + margin-top: .51em; + margin-bottom: .24em; + text-align: justify; +} +.x-ebookmaker p { + margin-top: .5em; + margin-bottom: .25em; +} + +.caption p, .center p, p.center {text-align: center; text-indent: 0;} + +.p2 {margin-top: 2em;} +.p4 {margin-top: 4em;} +.b4 {margin-bottom: 4em;} +.vspace {line-height: 1.5;} + +.in0 {text-indent: 0;} +.in4 {padding-left: 4em;} + +.xsmall {font-size: 60%;} +.small {font-size: 70%;} +.smaller {font-size: 85%;} +.larger {font-size: 125%;} +.large {font-size: 150%;} +.xxlarge {font-size: 250%;} + +.center {text-align: center;} + +.right {text-align: right; margin-right: 2em;} + +.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} +.allsmcap {font-variant: small-caps; text-transform: lowercase;} +.firstword {font-variant: small-caps;} + +.bold {font-weight: bold;} + +hr { + width: 33%; + margin: 4em auto 4em auto; + clear: both; +} +.x-ebookmaker hr { + margin-top: .1em; + margin-bottom: .1em; + visibility: hidden; + color: white; + width: .01em; + display: none; +} + +.tb { + text-align: center; + padding-top: .76em; + padding-bottom: .24em; + letter-spacing: 1.5em; + margin-right: -1.5em; +} + +.x-ebookmaker .tb {letter-spacing: 1.25em; margin-right: -1.25em;} + +.pagenum { + position: absolute; + right: .25em; + text-indent: 0; + text-align: right; + font-size: 70%; + font-weight: normal; + font-variant: normal; + font-style: normal; + letter-spacing: normal; + line-height: normal; + color: #acacac; + border: .0625em solid #acacac; + background: #ffffff; + padding: .0625em .125em; +} + +.figcenter { + margin: 2em auto 2em auto; + text-align: center; + page-break-inside: avoid; +} + +img { + padding: 1em 0 0 0; + max-width: 100%; + height: auto; +} + +.caption {text-align: center; margin-top: 0;} +.caption p {margin-top: 0;} +.caption .right { + text-align: right; + font-size: .7em; + margin-bottom: 0; + margin-right: .5em; +} + +.poetry-container { + margin: 1.5em auto; + text-align: center; + font-size: 98%; + display: flex; + justify-content: center; +} + +.poetry {display: block; text-align: left; margin-left: 0;} +.x-ebookmaker .poetry {margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 5%;} +.poetry .stanza {padding: 0.5em 0; page-break-inside: avoid;} +.poetry .verse {text-indent: -3em; padding-left: 3em;} + +.poetry .indent0 {text-indent: -3em;} +.poetry .indent2 {text-indent: -2em;} + +.transnote { + border: .3em double gray; + font-family: sans-serif, serif; + margin-left: 5%; + margin-right: 5%; + margin-top: 4em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + padding: 1em; +} +.x-ebookmaker .transnote { + page-break-before: always; + page-break-after: always; + margin-left: 2%; + margin-right: 2%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; + padding: .5em; +} + +.wspace {word-spacing: .3em;} + +.pagenum br {display: none; visibility: hidden;} + + /* ]]> */ </style> +</head> + +<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 NEW YORK 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 & 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. 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 & 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> + diff --git a/75637-h/images/cover.jpg b/75637-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..dc13022 --- /dev/null +++ b/75637-h/images/cover.jpg diff --git a/75637-h/images/coversmall.jpg b/75637-h/images/coversmall.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..3543e19 --- /dev/null +++ b/75637-h/images/coversmall.jpg diff --git a/75637-h/images/i_001.jpg b/75637-h/images/i_001.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..f79b8a6 --- /dev/null +++ b/75637-h/images/i_001.jpg diff --git a/75637-h/images/i_055.jpg b/75637-h/images/i_055.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..45a1e78 --- /dev/null +++ b/75637-h/images/i_055.jpg diff --git a/75637-h/images/i_105.jpg b/75637-h/images/i_105.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..b6ad487 --- /dev/null +++ b/75637-h/images/i_105.jpg diff --git a/75637-h/images/i_171.jpg b/75637-h/images/i_171.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..08c93e6 --- /dev/null +++ b/75637-h/images/i_171.jpg diff --git a/75637-h/images/i_221.jpg b/75637-h/images/i_221.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..27aa257 --- /dev/null +++ b/75637-h/images/i_221.jpg diff --git a/75637-h/images/i_287.jpg b/75637-h/images/i_287.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..bf73c89 --- /dev/null +++ b/75637-h/images/i_287.jpg |
