1918 We will remember them

Published by Sword Books Ltd 2015

Copyright © Griff Hosker First Edition

The author has asserted their moral right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as the author of this work.
 

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To the British and Commonwealth soldiers and their allies who, then and now, put themselves in harm’s way to protect their country.  May we never forget them.

I had been awarded the V.C. to accompany the Military Cross I had won earlier in the war.  The rest of the squadron and my family at home thought it was a great honour.  I suppose it was but the loss of so many of my friends and comrades added to those who had become maimed had left a sour taste in my mouth. I would have traded all of my medals to have Charlie Sharp, my first gunner and the love of my little sister’s life, back alive.  I would have swapped them both for Lumpy Hutton’s arm or Johnny Holt’s eye.  I would have exchanged any of the honours I had received for Lord Burscough; the man I had first served and my mentor. It was a ridiculous notion to think that a lump of metal could be exchanged for something human but after the battle of Passchendaele in 1917 my spirits were at their lowest low ebb. I was not certain if I could go on. The only bright spots were the letters from the love of my life Beatrice, and the birth of Gordy’s son, Billy. Gordy was one of my oldest friends and the birth of a boy seemed to give hope,

As we toasted the baby in the mess with the rest of the squadron I wondered at that.  The two things which made me feel good were nothing to do with the war.  The medals, the fact that I was a major and one of the leading British aces of the time, none of those things made me happy but the birth of a baby hundreds of miles away and the thought that I was in the mind and heart of a beautiful woman did. I had found that my values had changed as the war had gone on.

In England we call the drunken binge when a baby is born, ‘
wetting the baby’s head
’. It was a traditional rite for the father and his friends. Had the poor little mite been in the mess that night he would have been drowned. I, however, drank little.  I was now the second in command and I did not wish to appear foolish before the men I commanded.  More importantly, Gordy and Ted were my oldest friends and someone had to watch over them. There were mainly new pilots in the mess that night and many of our old comrades were either dead or in the hospital.  That sobered me up more than anything. It would be me who would have to put them to bed.

I was not alone with that task; Airman John Bates was my batman and he helped me to put my two friends to bed.  He organised the batmen of Gordy and Ted too. He told me they would have been happy to do it for me but I had shaken my head.  “They are my friends, John.  I owe it to them.”

When they were safely tucked up in their beds with heads draped and pointed towards the floor I retired.  Bates came to my room to lay out my uniform. He noticed my face and ventured, “Sir, if you do not mind me saying so, you do not look happy and yet you should be.”

“How so, Bates?”

“Major Harsker, you have won the V.C.  You single handedly stopped hundreds of Canadians being slaughtered and you are the most respected pilot in this most distinguished of squadrons. In addition you have a beautiful fiancée. Many men would trade places with you in an instant.”

“I know, John, and I should be but when I see pilots like Mr Holt being blinded and decent chaps like Lumpy Hutton being maimed I wonder if this is all worth it.”

“You mean the war sir?”

I nodded, “Yes the war.”

“Well in that case of course it isn’t worth it. There is no sane reason for all the slaughter, the deaths, the injury and the hurt.  This war has affected people who have never set foot in France. People like your poor sister who lost the love of her life.” I must have looked surprised at his words. “But none of you gentlemen do this for the armchair generals and the politicians; nor the pernicious newspapers and the profiteers at home. You do it for each other and that, sir, is worth it. I am not a warrior sir, but you and the other pilots are and I am proud to be associated with you. Take pride in your medals for they are recognition that we… you are doing a wonderful job.”

I patted his arm as he turned to leave.  “You were right with the ‘
we
’, Bates.  You are as much a part of the success of this squadron as me, the pilots and even the bloody Camels.  Thank you.  I can always rely on you to show me the way ahead.”

“I just try to do what I can sir.  Goodnight.”

Before he left he made sure that my uniform was laid out; my clothes were put away and that there was a glass of whisky and another of water by the lighted nightlight next to my bed. He was the most ordered and organised man that I knew.

It was good to be back in our old base. The old field with the wooden buildings built by my brother Bert and the other engineers was home. I hated sleeping in tents and here we actually had defences to protect our aeroplanes. We were, however, pitifully short of both pilots and aeroplanes. Newly promoted Colonel Leach had allowed Gordy leave to visit his wife and new son.  He had no bus to fly anyway.  We were down to two Camels and three Bristols.  It was not so much a squadron and more of an extended flight! I was lucky in that Bates had sorted all the domestic arrangements for me allowing me and Freddie to make sure that the two Camels were in tip top shape.  They had been the difference between the squadron’s survival and destruction. They had proved to be the most effective fighter to keep the menace of the German Jasta at bay. The camel was as near to perfection in the air as it was possible to get.  At least I thought so.

The colonel was keen for us to get up in the air but he had me in his office before he issued the orders.

“Bill, we need a patrol up and I need someone to lead it.” He watched my face keenly,   “If you aren’t up to it then I can take your bus until my new one is delivered.  I know you have been through a great deal.”

His soft Scottish tones showed the concern he had for me. I have to admit his offer was tempting.  I felt as though I had ridden my luck too much lately anyway. Perhaps I should let someone else take my bus up for me. I smiled, “No sir.  It is my bus.  Besides, I remember when I was in the cavalry. If you fell off you had to get straight back on the horse.”

He nodded and I could see the relief on his face.  He had never flown a Camel.  When the new ones arrived he would need a day or two to get used to them.  They flew a little differently from the Bristol two seater he was used to. Many pilots new to camels had managed to crash them the first time out.

“When do the new buses get here?”

“By the end of the week.  The priority went to the chaps up at Ypres but they are sending us a mixture of Camels and Bristols.”

“That is a relief.  We are getting short of gunners as it is.”

He laughed, “And besides all the new pilots want to fly the Camel just like the leading ace.”

I shook my head.  “Don’t you start, sir. It is just luck you know.”

“No it isn’t.  You are damned good. Stop being so modest. Anyway let’s find out where you are off to.  Randolph!” Captain Marshall came in with the maps closely followed by Ted, the other Flight Commander. “Where are we sending Bill and Ted this morning?”

“Headquarters want a few photographs of Cambrai.”

“Cambrai?  We haven’t had any action there yet.”

“I know.  Headquarters want to know what the likelihood is of a German attack. Our front lines are some three miles south west of Cambrai so they want you to take photographs between the front lines and Cambrai.”

“Are there any German Jastas in the area?”

Randolph looked up.  “That is what we want you to find out.  No one has any idea since we went to Ypres.  This has been a quiet sector.  Perhaps they moved north with us.”

“Perhaps.” I felt a little more hopeful. The battle of Passchendaele was over but there was still fighting going on.  I hoped that Baron Von Richthofen and his Flying Circus were giving someone else a hard time.  He had killed too many of my friends for me be to be happy about bumping into him. I would know soon enough.  He always flew a red aeroplane. Having met him I knew the reason for that choice: it drew attention to him and he liked the colour.

I looked at Ted who had just finished his cigarette and was stubbing it out. “Ted, you and the Bristols are taking photographs today. Freddie and I will be your guardian angels.”

Ted was a dour man and always looked on the dark side but I had flown alongside him for most of the war and I knew what a redoubtable and doughty fighter he was.  His face might look hang dog but in his heart he was a bulldog.

“Righto, Bill. What’s the plan then?”

“We need to fly east of our front lines as far as Cambrai.  Freddie and I will climb to five thousand feet and keep watch for any Hun who might be about. That should give you the chance to take as many photographs as your gunners can manage.”

We left the office and went to our aeroplanes.  We fussed over them the way a gardener would with a prize rose.  The difference was that these could save our lives.

Freddie Carrick had grown from the callow youth to a confident and successful pilot. He had already shot down more aeroplanes than anyone in the squadron except for me. He and I flew the only Camels we had, at the moment.  When Johnny Holt returned from the hospital and his Camel was ready then our hunting flight would be back to full strength.

“How is the leg Freddie?”

Freddie had been wounded at the same time as Johnny had lost his eye. “Oh it is just a little stiff now and then.  Still the more I use it the easier it gets.”

“Three hours in a cockpit may make it give you more trouble than enough.”

“Don’t worry, sir.  I will be fine.  At least I still have two eyes and my leg will get better eventually.  Others are a lot worse off than I am.” War made a man mature early; Freddie was old beyond his years.

After I had checked the bus and spoken with the mechanic I was about to climb aboard when Bates appeared with a flask.  “Here you are, sir.  I got some soup from the canteen. The other officers told me how high you fly and this will keep you warm!”

“I have my flying coat, you know, Bates.”

“It can’t hurt and as I recall a similar flask saved Flight Sergeant Hutton’s life so let us call it a good luck charm eh sir?”

He strode purposefully back to my quarters as Freddie came over. “It must be like having your mother with you, sir.”

“It is Freddie and it is just as comforting.” I pointed to the skies.  “There are just two of us today so stick to me like glue.  I do not intend to fly straight and level for too long. We have no idea who is in this sector so until we do we assume it is the Flying Circus.”

“Righto, sir.”

That would be all that I would need to say to Freddie.  He was experienced and he was good. I did my last minute check of my pockets.  I had my two guns, my hip flask with whisky, my compass and three bandages; one never knew. Once we took off I began to climb.  Ted and the Bristols were marginally slower but they would be flying at a lower altitude. We had learned long ago that it was better to fly low and get the photographs right the first time rather than having to go back a second time when the Germans would be waiting. I did not envy Ted.  The Camel was much smaller than the Bristol.  We were harder to hit with ground fire.  The Bristol drew bullets like moths to a flame.

The front looked to be remarkably quiet as we flew over. Some of the crater holes made in the last push showed signs of grass growing on them. The summer had dried the land and the small lakes had evaporated.  If it had not been for the scars that were the trenches criss-crossing the land then it could have been a summer’s day before the war began.  We spiralled up to our patrol height. I glanced down and saw Ted and his companions as they flew across the front in straight lines.  They looked like three ploughs as they kept to a rigid formation and traversed the ground to photograph every inch of it.

Higher in the sky I flew figures of eight; then ovals and even reverse boxes. I could not see an enemy but if one came then I did not want to hand him the initiative. Both Freddie and I scanned the sky above and below. In the early days of the war we would have been well above any enemy at five thousand feet; now we could fly as high as nineteen thousand and the Bristols even higher. The Germans were equally good at climbing. The problems with the higher altitude were the cold and the lack of oxygen.  I was grateful that Bates had been so thoughtful. An hour into the flight and I poured myself a cup of the soup.  It was very warm rather than hot but welcome for all that. He had put some curry powder in with the bully beef soup and it soon warmed me up.  I had just replaced the top when I caught a movement in the distance. I dropped the flask to the floor and peered east.  There were three aeroplanes rising towards us.  We were further east than Ted.  It was Freddie and I that they had seen.

I waggled my wings to attract Freddie’s attention and waved east.  He nodded.  He had seen them. We had learned that offense was the best defence and I cocked both Vickers as I began to descend to close with them. As we closed I noticed something strange.  One of the aeroplanes rising to meet us was an unusual shape.  It had three wings.  I had heard of a Sopwith Triplane but I did not know that the Germans had them now. It would be some new information for Randolph. As we descended many questions ran through my mind. Did it have twin machine guns like the two Albatros it was accompanying? Would it be more manoeuvrable and what sort of speed did it have? I knew that we were superior to the Albatros but this new element was disturbing.

I had little time to worry about that for I had to deal with the threat of three German aeroplanes screaming through the skies towards me. They were flying three abreast whilst I had Freddie on my tail. It meant that they could split up and attack us from the side but we would be able to bring the fire of two Camels to bear. With our added speed from our dive I hoped it would work to our advantage.  If we could take one of the three out then we would have a chance. We would have parity of numbers. I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw that they were not the Flying Circus.  They all had a yellow tail and were painted a camouflage green.

Suddenly the triplane we had been flying towards lifted its nose.  It was certainly fast and manoeuvrable. I adjusted my nose so that I was aiming at the port Albatros. The second one fired a hopeful burst of his 7.92 millimetre guns.  I did not feel any impact and I assumed that he had missed. As the second Albatros came into my sights I fired.  I saw my bullets strike his fuselage.  I checked my mirror and saw that Freddie had fired but the triplane had performed an Immelmann Turn and was lining up on Freddie. Two could play at that game and I pulled my nose up, giving Freddie a free shot at the Albatros in front of me.  Instead of copying the turn I side slipped as I came around and fired at the tiny target that was the triplane.  In my mirror I saw the smoking Albatros heading east and Freddie was coming around to attack the second Albatros.

I do not know if I managed to actually hit the triplane but it began to climb.  I swung the Camel round to follow. The triplane was even smaller than my Camel and could turn on a sixpence! As it climbed I realised that it had a faster rate of climb.  What was its ceiling? I was grateful to Bates for, as we climbed up into the icy heights, I was still sustained by the warming soup. I watched as he climbed away from me.  He was just too far away for me to fire at him but I did not want to be the one to begin to descend.  If I did so then I would have this unknown triplane upon my tail. I was relieved when it stopped climbing and headed east.

I had just enough fuel to get home and I turned gently and began to descend west.  I saw Freddie’s downed Albatros and his Camel as he circled and waited for me to join him.  I saw nothing of Ted and the Bristols. They must have finished and gone home.

After I had landed I found Ted waiting for me. He was puffing on a cigarette. “What the hell was that? It was a nippy little bugger!”

“And a fast one too, Ted.  I couldn’t catch it. It had three wings like the Sopwith, it was a triplane. I wonder why he headed east.  I don’t think I damaged him. He looked to have the ability to out fly me and he had all the sky he needed.”

“He might have had a problem with his guns.”

“Perhaps that is it.”

We were both grateful to the eminently reliable Vickers which, as Flight Sergeant Richardson had told us, would never jam.  Sometimes the Lewis gun did and perhaps the German guns suffered the same problem although the twin Spandau appeared to be as reliable as the Vickers..

Freddie walked over to us with a grin like a Cheshire cat. “Another kill sir! Unless you want to claim a part of it?”

“No, Freddie.  I did not damage him enough to bring down.  Have it with my blessing.”

He looked relieved that he could claim the kill. “That triplane looked a little handy sir.”

“It did that.  We had best go and see Captain Marshall.  Did you get the photographs, Ted?”

“Aye; mind you there was bugger all to see.  If they are planning owt they are keeping it well hidden. There was nothing on the road and they didn’t have any guns to stop us snooping.”

As we wandered up to the office I thought about the tunnels we had dug before the Arras offensive.  I hoped they were not copying us in that area too.

Randolph frowned when he heard of the new aeroplane.  “This is the first we have heard of it. The Sopwith Triplane was phased out.  Not reliable but very fast and very agile.  Let’s hope that the new German one is unreliable too.”

Colonel Leach had been listening.  He tapped his pipe out, “Well at least the Hun doesn’t appear to be preparing anything just yet.  I think we need a quiet time to train the new pilots and get used to the new buses.” He waved his pipe at me, “The new lads will be here tomorrow.  Their buses will be here by the end of the week.  You are the training officer what do you suggest we do with them?”

I turned and grinned at Ted. “Well sir, what always used to work was sending them up in an FE 2 but we don’t use those any more but we could send them up as a gunner in the Bristol; have some mock fights using the Camels.”