1918 We will remember them (14 page)

It was strange as I walked into the mess.  Everyone looked at me as though I had two heads. The mess sergeants spoke in hushed tones.  Archie and Gordy came to sit on either side of me.

“Listen, Bill, if you aren’t up to flying today we will understand. I will lead your flight for you.”

“Thanks Archie.  I can fly and I am sorry for being such a baby yesterday.  Soldiers die every day.  Bert was a soldier and damned good one.”

Gordy put his arm around my shoulders, “You saw your brother die, for God’s sake.  It would upset anyone.”

“You are right Gordy and last night I was upset.  Today I am ready to get aloft and help to win this war.  Bert’s mates are still out there in their tanks.  I can’t protect Bert any more but I can help his pals.” I forced a smile.  “I will not let you down.  Any of you.  That I swear.”

Archie shook his head and murmured, “That was the last thought on our mind.  If you are sure, mind?”

“I am.” I forced a smile, “What is it today?  More of the same?”

“Aye consolidate our gains. Apparently we made more territorial gains yesterday than in any other battle.  They rang church bells in England.  It is seen as a great victory.”

“But it isn’t, at least, not yet.”

“Then let’s get in the air and see if we can win it now!”

I smiled as I went to my bus. I was getting fed up of the sympathetic looks. Sympathy didn’t get you anywhere.  It certainly wouldn’t bring Bert back.

I saw my flight.  “Right lads.  Let’s get up in the air and watch out for fighters.  I can’t imagine Fritz letting us have the freedom of the skies today. Watch for the Hun in the sun.”

None of them knew Bert and none of them knew me well enough to offer condolences but I could see, in their faces, that they were itching to say something.

I was glad when we were in the air and heading, in the darkness, towards the rising son and Cambrai. I saw the flashes from the guns as the barrage crept ever further forward.

By the time we reached the front, dawn had broken and I saw the damaged tanks from the previous day.  I also saw the remnants, there appeared to be less than two hundred of them, as they chugged east to take on the Germans again. They were slowly eating up the ground.  It was ponderous but they were still making good progress. We began the day with luck and geography on our side. The western skies behind us were still dark but we could see the German fighters approaching from the east.

“German fighters.  Engaging. Over.”

I waved to Freddie and pointed.  He had seen them too. We both climbed and led our men, this time in line astern, towards the Germans.  For the first time in a long time I didn’t care who we met.  If it was the Red Baron then he had better watch out because that day I would kill as many Germans as I possibly could.  It might not bring Bert back but it might bring the end of the war closer.

As we climbed I felt the cold.  November was almost over.  Normally we would have ceased operations.  It showed the planning of the high command. The ground was not muddy but was frozen in places.  The tanks had made more progress because of it. I did not think the Germans had seen us and I took us as high as I dared. They would be looking for our spotters who would be at a lower altitude. Today we would surprise them. We had breached their vaunted Hindenburg line and now we would destroy their Jastas.

We were five hundred feet above them and some thousand yards from them when I led my flight down. I waited until I was less than a hundred feet from the leading aeroplane before I fired. I jerked the nose up as I fired and hit the pilot.  The bullets stitched a line across the top wing and then made his head disappear. I kept lifting the nose and fired at the second aeroplane.  He was just forty feet behind the leading aeroplane and my bullets hit his propeller, his nose and his top wing.  He peeled away.  I suspect I had not only damaged his bus but wounded him too.

I banked to port and saw a line of Fokkers. They were in disarray and I flew imperiously along the line hitting every German I saw.  No more fell to my guns but, with five Camels behind me each firing his twin Vickers, it became a slaughter. Our manoeuvrability and small size had once more given us an advantage.

As the survivors fled I led my flight to machine gun the troops on the ground. By flying obliquely across the front we minimised the chances of hitting our own tanks or troops.  I husbanded my ammunition.  The bursts were one or two seconds in length. The Americans I would later meet called it a turkey shoot and it was an appropriate term. We could not and did not miss. When I clicked on empty I turned to port and led my flight back to the west. We had done all that we could and could do no more. It was time to go home.

We had not escaped unscathed. Lieutenant Hickey’s bus had holes in the wings, the fuselage and his cockpit.  Miraculously all had missed him.  Our dour Welshman had not been so lucky.  I do not know how he managed to get his bus down. He had been shot in the right arm and right leg. By another miracle they had missed all the vital arteries but he would not fly again for some time. The Bristols had fared worse.  Ground fire had brought down two. No one could remember seeing their buses go down and we were left in the dark.

In Randolph’s office everyone assiduously avoided mentioning tanks but we could not skirt around the offensive. “Well it looks like we have stalled a little.” Randolph had a map on the wall. “We are within two miles of Cambrai but the bridge we were counting on using proved weaker than we thought and the tank which tried to cross it destroyed it in the process. The General is digging in.”

“But that is still a bigger gain than we have made before.”

“You are right, Freddie, but we believe that the Germans are already transferring soldiers from the Eastern front.  They will take some time to get here but it means they can move soldiers from quiet sectors and reinforce their line around Cambrai. The French are going to attack around Verdun.” He sat down. “And we have been ordered to attack their roads beyond Cambrai.”

I noticed Archie watching us. The two of them were a good team. Archie let Randolph explain things and it gave the colonel the chance to look at our faces and gauge our reactions. I had learned, long ago to keep my face neutral.  Poor Gordy always spoke from the heart.

“But that means we will be on the edge of our endurance! And I assume you want the Bristols to bomb which means we have to go in low. We will be easy meat for any German fighters.”

Freddie ventured, “We could keep the Camels as an umbrella.  When we have used that tactic before then we haven’t lost any buses.”

Freddie was right it had been effective. Gordy stubbed out his cigarette angrily. “You are right, Freddie, but it doesn’t help us with the ground fire. They are getting more accurate.  We are the victims of our own success. It was inevitable.  If we keep flying low they get constant practice at shooting at us. We’ll do it but we won’t be bringing a full complement of buses back.”

Archie nodded, “You may be right.  How about this as a compromise?  I’ll join Freddie and we will ground attack their gunners. Bill here can be the umbrella.”

“Freddie and his flight have the more experienced pilots.  My young lads have been lucky up to now but if we meet a decent squadron then it could be a slaughter.”

They all looked at each other.  I could almost see Archie weighing up my state of mind. “The difference is you, Bill.  If you lead the Camels against anyone, Richthofen included, then it gives the rest of the pilots more confidence.  We all know that confidence can make the difference.  Of course if you don’t want to be the umbrella we will all understand.”

I shook my head and tapped out my pipe.  “No, sir, I didn’t mean that.  We will be your umbrella and we will watch your backs.”

The relief on their faces surprised me.  “Good.” As we rose to leave he added, “Oh and you got your bar for your MC.  Well done, Bill.”

The awarding of the bar seemed to mean more to the rest of the squadron than it did to me but I saw a lively side to them that night.  The sombre, deflated mood of the previous day was replaced by high jinks. I just watched and listened.  Bert was still at the forefront of my mind but I knew that I dare not show that I was upset.  I wouldn’t have been able to stand the commiserations and sympathy. Instead I looked at the young men I led.  They were not much younger than I was but they came from disparate backgrounds.  In a world without war I would have spent my life knuckling my forehead to them and calling them sir. In this topsy-turvy world in which we lived they called me sir and looked up to me.  It was bizarre.

Archie sidled up to me and slipped a glass of whisky in my hand.  “Here laddie, it is from my special bottle; a quarter cask Laphroigh.”

I could smell its peaty fumes as he handed it to me. “Thank you, sir.”

He shook his head, “Its Archie, laddie.  We both know that I am the commander of the squadron because I am colonel but the leader is you. You had us all worried yesterday.” I opened my mouth to speak but he held his hand up. “No laddie, let me speak.  I am not going to give you sympathy, we all know you hate that.  You are important to this squadron because you are an ace.  You have one of the highest totals on the western front and we both know how rare it is for you to be still alive. Randolph’s chum told us that young pilots request a posting here just to fly with you.”

“You must be joking!”

He laughed, “Have you never noticed that we get replacements really quickly?  That is not just the General being kind. So your moods and your opinions are important.”

“I hope you don’t think that I will be moping around sir?  I will do my duty.”

“I know but you have to be true to yourself too.  Don’t hide behind this mask all the time. When this offensive is over you will be going home to get married. When you are with your young lady then be yourself. Put away the mask and the armour.” He downed his whisky.  “Because if you don’t, you will crack and I dinna want that when you are twenty thousand feet in the air leading these young laddies.” He gave me a sad stare.  “You hear what I am saying Bill?”

I nodded, “I think I do sir.  And I won’t let anyone down.  Least of all myself.”
 

I had only four aeroplanes with me as I climbed high above the rest of the squadron.  The two Bristol pilots had both been captured.  At least Lieutenants Fox and Aston along with their gunners would survive the war. It meant we were a small squadron which headed east.  We saw the new front line as we neared Cambrai.  We had come tantalisingly close to ending the war.  Had we made Cambrai then the Hindenburg line would have been irrevocably breached and the end of the war would be that much closer.

The ground fire was bad and I could see holes appearing in the huge wings of the Bristols.  Had they been Gunbuses then I fear that those slow moving leviathans would have all been shot down. I peered ahead as I led my four young pilots.  We had to spot the Germans before they spotted us.

I saw eight crosses appear as Ted and Gordy began to drop their bombs on the road junction. My heart began to sink as I realised that they were four triplanes and four biplanes.  Then a sudden flash of sunlight from behind a cloud showed me that they were not gaudily painted.  This was not the Circus! My elation was short lived.  It might not be the Red Baron but they were the only bus which could worry us and we were outnumbered. I remembered Archie’s words. We needed to stop them hurting our ground attack.  I waggled my wings to tell my flight we were going into action and then I said, “Engaging four triplanes and four biplanes. Over!” If anything bad happened then Randolph would know the reason.

We had the advantage of altitude. The Germans had taken off from their own field not long earlier. We found ourselves heading into a flurry of sleet. The shower had come from nowhere but it made the visibility poor.  I knew it would be as hard for the Germans but, as it was coming from behind them, it was adding to their airspeed and slowing down ours.

They came up at us in two banks of four.  The biplanes were at the fore.  They were the Albatros D. IV. I began to sway my bus from side to side to make myself a more difficult target. We were small and the sky behind was still a little dark. The longer I could delay their fire the better. I was already planning my next move.  When we were amongst them I would not turn to either port or starboard as I normally did; I would take us up and use our superior climb to loop and come down upon them again. If they knew who we were then they would expect either a left or right flight and I might just throw them off.

I saw the flames from their Spandau as they all fired at me.  It was a waste of ammunition from the ones the flanks and the two in the middle merely hit my wings. I turned slightly to port and fired at forty yards. The Albatros was so big at that point that I could not miss and smoke began to pour from his engine.  I returned to my course and braced myself for the gauntlet of fire from the Fokker Triplanes.  These were a smaller target. Their bullets were more accurate. I felt a couple ping off my engine cowling and then I fired. I hit the undercarriage of the leading Fokker and saw it judder. No matter what happened next that was one Fokker which would not be flying the next day.

As soon as I had fired I pulled my nose up. As I did so I saw the four triplanes split into pairs and go to port and starboard.  They had anticipated my next move. Had I turned in either direction I would have found myself attacked by three or four aeroplanes for the Albatros had done the same. As it was they had to try to avoid each other. As I climbed I looked in my mirror.  There were just three Camels behind me.  One was missing. I could not worry about the lost chick.  At least the other three would find it easier to hang on to my shirt tails.

I banked to port as I turned to dive on the German fighters.  There was confusion below me as the seven remaining aeroplanes tried to regain some sort of formation. I saw an Albatros come into my sights and, as I screamed down upon him I fired a short burst.  I had to pull up to avoid hitting him and, in my mirror I saw George Jenkin finish him off. Then I was on the tail of a triplane.  I fired a burst and missed for he began to dive towards the earth. I pushed my stick forward and followed him. I suddenly realised that he was not running away from me.  I was gaining on him.  I had found another weakness in the Fokkers; they had a slower rate of descent. Later I realised it must be because of the three wings which would act as a giant air brake. It gave me the opportunity to wait a little longer to fire.

He kept twisting and turning and still I closed with him. The ground seemed to be looming up and I knew that he would have to pull up soon. I waited until I saw the small profile become large and I fired at a range of forty feet. I scythed through his fuselage and his tail simply fell off. The front half plummeted to the ground and I fought to pull up the nose of my Camel to avoid the same fate.

As I rose I saw that I was alone in the sky with my three Camels.  The sky was empty and when I looked at my fuel gauge I saw that my Camel was also nearly empty too. We headed home. I was able to identify the missing pilot by looking in my mirror.  It was Stephen Hickey. He had been a good pilot with five kills to his name. I had hoped not to lose any more young men but another had joined Charlie and Bert.

My engine was coughing and spluttering as we finally landed.  I rolled the last ten yards without power.  The fight had taken us to our very limits.

Although we had done well and exceeded our expectations the ground offensive came to a halt and we had begun to lose ground as the Germans counterattacked. The French had also attacked, successfully at Verdun and overall we had more ground now than before. However the loss of so many men and the new tanks did not seem a fair swap. Randolph had been to Headquarters and discovered that the Brass Hats were more than pleased with themselves.  They saw it as a victory. It seemed largely hollow to us.

The last week of November in 1917 saw us wearily climb into our buses each day and attempt to hold back the German counterattack.  We were no longer raiding their rear trenches and their lines of communication we were attacking their aeroplanes and their advancing troops. I even heard that the Cavalry, which had been meant to exploit the gains of the tank assault had been drafted in as infantry. In a way I was pleased for the horses would not be needlessly slaughtered. The constant sorties took it out on the buses and, for once, we did not receive either replacement aeroplanes of pilots. The end of 1917 was dragging out.

Both Archie and Ted had had their buses damaged so that on the last day of November I led the squadron on its daily meeting with death.  There were just five Camels left airworthy and four Bristols.  We flew in line astern.  Johnny Holt was back as my wingman and Freddie guarded the rear.  Jack Fall and George Jenkin made up the rest. Gordy and his Bristols flew behind Freddie. That was the day when the Germans attacked with twenty divisions and almost all of the gains of the first day were wiped out.

As we arrived over the front I saw the brown uniforms flooding west.  “A Flight.  British forces retreating towards the canal. Over.”

The Canal du Nord was a vital part of the gains we had made.  By holding both banks we controlled large parts of the area before Cambrai. The Germans were racing over the ground.  The lack of artillery damage and the frozen ground meant that they moved quickly. There was no time to waste and I led my squadron down to machine gun the advancing Germans.  My pilots were experienced enough to know that they had to fly in line abreast.  Gordy led the Bristols obliquely across the battlefield so that his rear gunner could rake the ground. The Germans hit the ground and took whatever shelter they could.

I banked and took us across the German advance.  It looked to be all the way from Bourlon Wood down to Honnecourt.  As far as I could see, as we machine gunned our way south, only the 6
th
Division at Ribecourt appeared to be making a stand. The bullets ran out before the fuel and I led us back to the field.  As we landed I shouted, “Get them fuelled and armed we are going back up.”

I ran to the office. “Archie, they are flooding over our lads.  I’ll have to take us back up. Get on to Headquarters and have the artillery ready to launch a barrage.  I’ll get Gordy to coordinate it.”

“Have a rest, Bill.  Just an hour or so.”

“In an hour or so we may find Fritz knocking on our door. What you could do is have any spare pilots to take over when I come back.”

“You want a third sortie?”

“Want?  No.  Need? You bet your life!”

I ran to Gordy who was examining his undercarriage.  I saw that it had been hit by ground fire. “Direct the artillery Gordy.  I’ll lead your lads.”

“Righto Bill.  Bit of a cock up eh?”

I shrugged.  “Nothing changes.”

I almost threw myself into my cockpit and screamed along the airfield. My squadron made a ragged take off.  This was no straight line and regular formation. I did not wait for the stragglers to catch up.  I flew the reverse of our earlier flight. I was appalled by how much ground had been lost in an hour. I flew low and my Vickers took a heavy toll on the advancing Germans.  I saw the Camels behind me as they exploited my success.  I saw that every German had taken cover.  To my left I saw a line of our tanks advancing.  There were fewer of them than on the first day of the battle but they might be able to hold back the enemy.

As I neared Bourlon I saw that we had lost the village but it looked like a retreat now and not a rout. I turned to fly south. My ammunition lasted one more burst. I saw Jack Fall in my mirror. Ground fire hit him and he began to descend.  He was lucky, he was able to turn and head west.  The frozen ground might mean that he would survive.  I hoped so.  He was too good a pilot to lose.

I was the first to reach the field and replacement pilots were waiting.  Archie said, “I’ll fly your bus, Bill.”

“No sir, with respect.  I have been there all day and you haven’t.  I know where to go.  Jack Fall has crashed.  He should be near to Graincourt.”

“I’ll send a lorry for him.”

Bates scurried up with a cup of something hot and a sandwich. “Here you are sir.  You are not leaving until you have drunk this soup and eaten your sandwich.”

I could not argue with him and I was hungry. “Go and get a couple of Mills bombs from the armourer, Bates.”

He rushed off. I watched the rest of the squadron as they landed. George’s Camel spluttered its way down and Gordy’s bus twisted and plopped to the ground as the undercarriage collapsed. I would be leading six pilots. Fresh pilots jumped into the buses despite the protests of Freddie and Johnny.

“Gentlemen you have done well.  It only needs one of us to lead this handful of aeroplanes.  That will be me.”

Bates handed me the Mills bombs and examined the mug to ensure that I had drunk all of the soup. “Now you be careful Major Harsker. Your mother has had enough bad news she couldn’t cope with more.” He waggled a finger at me and I nodded.

“I’ll do my best. That was good soup.  Thank you.”

This time I had to wait until the other five buses were ready. They would have to follow. Lieutenant Carpenter was the most experienced pilot I had left and he flew in the middle of the flight. I did not know the Bristol pilots but they were all reliable types.

The line was beginning to stabilise. Dusk would fall in less than two hours. I headed for Ribecourt.  The 6
th
Division looked to have been holding and were digging in. I led the squadron east from their position. As soon as I saw the advancing grey uniforms I banked to port and flew along the line. They raised their guns to fire at me but I was too small, too low and too fast for them to hit. My bullets tore through them. I swayed the nose from port to starboard as I kept my fingers on the triggers. The Vickers’ reliability saved many a Tommy that day. They just didn’t jam.

When they clocked empty I banked to starboard and then flew towards their lines.  I saw the flash of a mobile artillery piece. I prepared the Mills bomb and as I flew over I dropped it.  I missed the gun but hit the ammunition tender. There was a whoosh behind me.  The concussion knocked my Camel to the side. It saved my life as a machine gun stitched a line in my port lower wing. But for the exploding ammunition that would have been me. In retaliation for the death of Bert I took out the second Mills bomb. I banked to port and, as I flew over the machine gun dropped the bomb and then climbed.  I saw the gun and crew in my mirror as they were torn apart by the explosion.

I headed home.

Two of the Bristols did not return. One was shot down and one suffered engine failure. Senior Flight Sergeant Lowery shook his head, “I am sorry Major Harsker but they can’t cope with three sorties in one day.”

“I know Flight but it was either that or lose all that we had gained.  It was a sacrifice but it worked.”

And it had worked. The Germans had been halted.  It had not just been our aeroplanes which had done it; the tanks had been sacrificed too and the Guards thrown in.  That and the heroism of Tommies who refused to fall back even though they had lost meant that we held on to some of our gains.  The Battle of Cambrai had not been a failure. Bert had not died in vain.