1916 Angels over the Somme (British Ace Book 3) (21 page)

Once again a combined speed of almost two hundred miles an hour did not allow for measured and calculated shooting.  This was where our extra firepower came into its own.  I fired at the same time as Hutton and, as the leading German began to smoke, Hutton changed his aim to the Fokker on the right. The other gunners behind me were preparing to attack the same aeroplane which had no one to attack. As we swooped through their lines I banked to the right and Sergeant Hutton combined with the other gunners of my flight to destroy the second German. 

The second German Jasta was almost upon us.  I had a choice: I could continue my turn and come upon the rear of the first formation or take on the second one. I chose the latter.  It enabled my gunners to fire at the first formation which would be turning to try to take us on.

“What is it like behind, Sergeant Hutton?”

He held out his mirror.  “The flight is still intact and Mr Hewitt is engaging the others.” He glanced to the right.  “It looks like Major Leach is coming to help us.”

“Right.  When we engage these next Germans I intend to bank right and climb.”

“Righto.”

It was some time since we had fought the monoplane and they must have been desperate for them to enlist them.  Their only advantage was the ability to fire through the propeller but their speed was as bad as ours and their rate of climb even worse. We dived and Sergeant Hutton managed to empty his magazine into the engine of the first Fokker.  It seemed to hang in the air before it plunged vertically to earth. The others converged on us and hit us with a cone of fire.  I had no target and Hutton was changing his magazine.  I began my bank. A black cross on a fuselage came into view and I fired a quick burst. I hit it but it continued to fly.  Sergeant Hutton had reloaded and he began to fire at the same Fokker.  It was his day for his bullets stitched a line along the body of the aeroplane and it too, fell towards earth.

We appeared to be a bullet magnet.  Although many went through the empty fuselage some were hitting the engine.  I was suddenly smacked in the face as a sliver of wood flew from the edge of the cockpit and embedded itself below my goggles.  I felt a smack on my goggles as another piece of my own aeroplane struck me. I could feel the blood dripping slowly down my cheek.

And then we were through their lines and heading west.  I saw Archie and the rest of the squadron coming to our rescue. Sergeant Hutton turned around and manned the rear Lewis which began chattering death and destruction behind me.  He stopped firing and grinned at me.  His expression suddenly and dramatically changed, “Bloody hell sir! You’ve been hit.”

“It’s nothing.  Get back into position and we’ll get rid of these bombs.”

I ignored the sound of machine guns behind me.  Archie and the others would have to deal with them. I headed for the smoking ridge.  Ironically it was as we had planned; the Germans were busy rescuing the wounded and repairing the damage. I did nothing fancy I just dropped us to two hundred feet and, while Lumpy held the bombs ready I emptied one of the Lewis guns.  I had just armed the second when the first of Lumpy’s bombs exploded.  It was a long ridge and we managed to drop all four bombs. I climbed to a safer height and watched the others as they dropped their bombs.  To my horror I only counted four aeroplanes. Lieutenant Fryer was heading for the ground with his engine on fire. He struck the ground close to a machine gun emplacement and it exploded in a fireball as his fuel ignited the ammunition. We had survived the dogfight against superior odds only to lose a pilot to ground fire. I banked and headed west and home.

By the time we had landed the blood on my face had begun to congeal but my flying coat was covered in blood.  I had seen where the bullets had struck the edge of the cockpit.  I had been lucky; a long splinter to the throat could have ended my life and Sergeant Hutton’s!

I was the first to land.  Hutton had wanted to fire a flare but I told him to save it.  I was not dying and who knew what other injuries there were. Sergeant Hutton leapt out quicker than I had ever seen him and he tried to help me down.

“Flight Sergeant Hutton; this is a scratch!”

“Wait until you see it sir then you can say.”

The others landed and I waited for them.  Sergeant Hutton’s opinion was confirmed when Freddie saw me. “My God sir! What the hell happened?”

“It was a splinter and it looks worse than it is.  Look I’ll go and wash it off and then people will stop bothering me.” I turned, “Sergeant Hutton check the…” He was not there! “Now where has he gone?”

I was answered a moment or two later when Doc Brennan and one of his orderlies ran towards me. “Look Doctor.  It’s just as I told you.”

“It is fine, doc.”

Doc Brennan put his hands on his hips.  “When I presume to give you flying lessons then you can advise me on medical procedures.  Your young lady may be a nurse but she isn’t here. Now get to sick bay, chop, chop.”

As the orderly took off my flying coat, Bates burst in.  “Dear oh, dear.  Here sir, give me your coat.  I’ll have a nice drink waiting for you,” he stared at Doc Brennan, “look after him Doctor.  He never takes enough care!”

When he had left us I said, “It’s like having my mother on the base.”

“You should be grateful he cares so deeply for you.” He examined my goggles which were still on my head. He pointed to the left lens which was badly cracked.  “It is a good job you were wearing these or you could have lost your eye.” He took my helmet off and I stared at the goggles.  I could not remember the blow as being that hard and yet it had cracked the lens.  I had been lucky.

He went to wash up while the orderly cleaned away the blood and then pressed some clean gauze to the wound.

“Right then, Captain Harsker, if you lay down here the doctor will stitch you.”

I started, “Stitch me!”

The orderly laughed, “Well if we don’t you will be bleeding all the way through dinner sir. Now come along and lie down, there’s a good officer.  I have to keep pressure on this gauze.”

I saw Doc Brennan tapping a syringe. The orderly wiped some alcohol on my cheek and then the doctor injected me.  I had felt little pain before but now I felt nothing. It was strange lying there and watching the doctor stitch me up.  It was as though I was detached for he just focussed on his hands and the needle. 

He stood back.  “There.  That is as neat as I can make it.  I am afraid you will have a scar.  It will be one the Germans seem to like; a sort of duelling scar. The ladies love them apparently. Here.”

He handed me a mirror and I could see that the wound was three inches long.  It was no wonder that they had all been shocked.  I thought it had been much smaller.

I went to the adjutant’s office.  My face still felt numb.  The doc had said the anaesthetic would take hours to wear off.  Archie had a sombre look on his face. When he saw my wound he shook his head.  “The plan worked but at what a cost.  You were lucky but we lost Fryer, Watson, Parr and Sutton.  I hope that the brass appreciate the sacrifice.”

I too was shocked but I was also a realist. “Sir, when you lose a thousand officers and twenty thousand men in the first day of a battle then eight fliers doesn’t even rate a raised eyebrow.”

Archie slammed his hand into the desk making Flight Sergeant Lowery jump a little.  “Well it damn well matters to me!”

He slumped into a chair.  Randolph said, “We lost all of them on the way back.  The Germans have better anti-aircraft fire now.  Lieutenant Sharp has good eyes and he noticed they are using twin machine guns which, of course, have twice the chance of success as a single gun.”

We had mastered the Fokkers but now they had developed another weapon. I left the office in a depressed state. Four pilots gone in a heartbeat and I had nearly lost an eye.

Our losses were put into perspective when Archie attended the next meeting at Wing. The Australians had suffered more than five thousand casualties in their attack. We had no time to recover either for the Germans were trying to counterattack. Although we had lost four aeroplanes we had destroyed nine of the enemy. Archie was convinced that we would be able to fly with impunity.  Ted was back to his morose self at the briefing.

“You can’t keep expecting these young lads to fly over the Germans lines.  We have the beating of the aeroplanes but it is the ground fire we have to worry about.”

“Tomorrow we just have to observe. We are directing the artillery fire.  Your observers are being issued with mirrors.  Our squadron will be spread across the whole of the front and each of us will be directing the fire of a four gun battery.  Our job is to knock out the enemy artillery and then the strong points. If the Germans are attacking then direct the fire at them.  We stay in the air as long as possible.” He looked at the four of us in turn and punctuated each word as he said it, “We do not engage enemy aeroplanes. We can fire at them but no pursuit.  We keep station until this job is done!”

As we taxied I was reminded of the old days of no engagement but Hamilton-Grant had done that for a different reason.  I had been in the trenches and I could understand this particular order.

As we climbed to our correct altitude I checked in with Sergeant Hutton, “Are you happy about the signals, Sergeant?”

“Oh yes sir.  I learned Morse Code in the Boys Brigade. We just start each signal with C, that is our call sign and let the guns know if they are long, short or on target.”

“What happens when the target is destroyed?”

“Then I flash them hit, hit, hit and give them new coordinates.” He chuckled.  “To be honest sir I am quite looking forward to that.  It will be like I am an officer giving orders.”

He always saw the positives.

“Here we are sir.  This is it.  If you would hold her steady I will tell them we are here.”

While he flashed I studied the ground below us. I could see the German gun emplacements.  They were camouflaged but I could make them out. They had no anti-aircraft protection which was a good thing. Further west I could see trenches lined with machine guns.  Their gunners were ready and braced for an attack.  I could see their white faces as they looked up at us. One or two of the infantrymen tried to take pot shots at us.  They missed!

“Ready sir.”

I flew in a small loop as we waited for the shells to strike. They fired just four.  I noticed that, when the shells screamed over, the machine gunners dived into their trenches. I could see that the shells landed long by about four hundred yards. The Germans returned fire but it had to be blind. Hutton flashed his signal.  This time the shells landed just short but they managed to hit some barbed wire.

Hutton flashed again we waited in eager anticipation for the next four shells. Three of them converged on one gun which was destroyed. A fourth shell landed well short.

Hutton said, “One of the gunners is a dozy bugger, sir! Just keep her steady while I pass this on.”

There seemed to be a longer gap.  I didn’t know but I imagined that the senior officer would be checking all the guns to ensure they had the same settings.  The lull seemed to fool the Germans for some of the gunners came out of their trenches.  The next four shells took out a whole gun and damaged a second as well as killing some of the gunners. Hutton flashed his message back and the guns rolled for fifteen minutes until there was no German artillery left intact.  Unlike the ones we had bombed these were now just so much scrap metal.

“Right sir, steady again. This will be a longer message.” Once again the lull after the guns stopped fooled the German gunners in the trenches.  They began to emerge.  They were expecting an attack. They did not know that there were no infantry coming now that the guns had stopped.

“Right sir, this should be interesting.”

Whether the guns had warmed up or the gods of the guns were with us I do not know but the first four shells were bang on target.  The machine guns and the bodies of the gunners were flown high into the air like so many rag dolls. This time, when the Germans fled into the trenches, there was no relief. The guns kept pounding and they destroyed the limited protection afforded by the sandbags and corrugated iron.  I saw Germans running from the trenches; they looked like rats fleeing a sinking ship. The guns were firing so rapidly now that they were simply disintegrated when the shells exploded amongst them.

Hutton said, “Poor buggers.” Soon there was nothing left to hit and Hutton ordered the cease fire. Any more shooting would have merely wasted ammunition. As we headed home I realised that we had not seen a single German aeroplane during the entire patrol. This was not like the days of 1915 and the Fokker Scourge.  Now it was the RFC which ruled the air.

The others had had equal success. The Germans were cowed.  They would not be advancing west any time soon and, more importantly, when the brass decided then we could move east to claim a few more bloody miles of France.

For the next four days we continued to spot for the artillery.  We liaised with different batteries as the German artillery was gradually silenced.  I was still worried that the Germans would return stronger than ever and swat us from the skies but, so far, my fears had been groundless. On the tenth of August we had a day off; it rained and was misty.  There would be no flying that day. The mechanics were delighted for it meant that they could service the aeroplanes which had been suffering wear and tear with the constant hours they spent in the air.