1918 We will remember them (26 page)

My flight were in the mess happily miming their actions and talking of their successes. My face must have warned them for they all watched me intently and in silence.  “Roger Stuart was shot down today by ground fire.  He is dead.”

Their euphoria evaporated like a morning mist; they looked like a deflated barrage balloon.

“Listen lads we have to watch out for each other.  I found Roger all alone and being chased by two Fokkers. There are four of you left. Jack you watch Ralph’s back and David you watch Wally’s. Stick like glue to each other.”

Jack said, quietly, “And what about you sir? Who will watch your back?”

I shook my head and said, “Every pilot who has ever flown with me and is now in the great mess in the sky. I have dozens to watch over me.”

That first day was a foretaste of what would come.  It became known as Black September.  More pilots and crews died that month than any other month in the war.  Even Bloody April in 1915 was not as bad. The squadron came within a whisker of a breakdown. That was a couple of weeks down the road. We put the bad day down to bad luck and when we heard that the French had begun to advance in the south, and an air of optimism returned.  We even had a day without seeing a German aeroplane.  We saw a steady trickle of German prisoners heading west.  We watched our front line creeping slowly forward as the pressure mounted.

September the third saw us to the south of Cambrai. The French were advancing and we were asked to support the American fighters operating in that region. We were without the SE 5s.  We had become used to seeing them on our wing.  That may have been an omen.

Freddie was the only one of us with a full flight and he took the lead.  I was slightly astern of him. As we approached our patrol area we saw a formation of Fokkers attacking some SPADs of the 27
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American Squadron. This was a large formation of Germans.  It looked like the old Jasta I.  The Red Baron might have gone but his influence still remained. Freddie led us down towards the dogfight. I lined my Camel up on the bright yellow and red triplane.  I was surprised they hadn’t changed to the D.VII but I knew that if he was in Jasta I he would be a good pilot.

He was firing at a SPAD which was twisting and turning to evade the deadly bullets.  I noticed the American squadron had an eagle insignia.  It seemed it was just the Royal Air Force which liked a plain livery. I could not afford to wait too long to fire as the German was scoring too many hits.  The SPAD was a robust aeroplane but there was a limit to the damage it could take.

I fired at a hundred yards and I banked right as soon as I had scored my first hits.  I knew that Wally would cover a move to port. I was lucky.  He banked and climbed to starboard and flew directly into my gun sights.  I hit his wing and then the cockpit.  He spiralled to earth.  I saw a hand waved from the American as he too headed home. Wally and Lieutenant Dundas had headed to port. I sighed with relief.  They were heeding my orders and flying as a pair.  It left me alone.

I looked for another German and saw a D.VII.  This one was firing at Gordy. Gordy knew how to fly and he was banking, climbing and diving in an attempt to shake off his pursuer.  I dived to catch them.  Gordy’s manoeuvres made it hard for me to get the German into my sights. I had to be patient.  I checked my mirror and saw that I was still alone. No one was trying a sneak attack on me. Suddenly Gordy made a mistake. He banked to port and tried to climb at the same time. Normally that would have worked but the Fokker was also banking to port.  Gordy had flown port then starboard and then port too many times. The German anticipated the move. I saw the bullets thump into the cockpit and Gordy juddered. I had waited too long.

The German’s move had given me a sight of his tail and I fired.  I was lucky and I hit it.  I saw him looking around for the danger. He banked to port and I watched Gordy as he recovered enough to head west. He was alive. I banked to port too.  The German bus was slightly faster in the dive than I was.  As I came around I fired again and, again, hit his tail. Even before he did I began to climb and bank to starboard. It is what I would have done in his situation. His tail was suffering too much. He would still be able to turn but it would be sluggish. As I corrected my turn his fuselage came into view and I gave a long burst.  I was less than one hundred feet from him and the bullets hit both his struts and his fuselage. I saw that we were under a thousand feet above the earth.  It sounds a lot but when you are flying at over a hundred and twenty miles an hour it is not.

He pulled his nose up.  He rose but it was slower than he would have liked.  I maintained my dive to gain speed and then I pulled up my nose when I was less than two hundred feet from the ground. I arrowed my Camel towards the underside of his Fokker. He was like a giant cross above me.  I knew that he could not see me.  He would be looking desperately for me in his mirror. I had the luxury of being able to wait until I could not miss. I fired at a point where the wings met the fuselage.  It would be close to his cockpit and his tank.  I hit both and the Fokker exploded throwing my Camel to starboard and the ground. I had to fight my aeroplane.  My knee was aching from the use of the ailerons and I wondered if the tip of my wing would catch the ground. Someone was watching over me for the Camel righted herself and I was flying level. I scanned the skies and saw that I was alone. I turned west and headed home. That had been as close to a fatal crash as I come since I had crashed near to Cambrai.

The field showed that we had been hurt. If I was the last to return then we had lost another Camel.  The skies behind me had been empty as I had headed home. I saw that Gordy’s bus had landed but it looked a mess. When I came to a halt Ted ran over to me.

“It’s Gordy.  He has been hurt.”

“He was alive.  I saw him.”

Ted nodded, “He was and he was conscious when he landed.  When the propeller stopped he went out like a light.  Doc is with him!”

I took out my pipe and began to fill it.  “Who is missing?”

“One of the new lads from Freddie’s flight, Johnson or something like that.”

“It was his first time out.”

“I know. He looked as though he hadn’t started shaving.”

We trudged to the office. Archie had the whisky already poured. “The Americans sent their thanks. They were getting a mauling.”

I downed it in one.  “That isn’t a surprise.  That was Jasta I, Richthofen’s old squadron. They are bloody good pilots.” We sat in silence with an unspoken question in the air.  Eventually I asked it. “How do you think Gordy is?”

Freddie said, “There was a lot of blood and he was as pale as…” he downed his whisky.  “Damned white; like a ghost!”

An hour went by and I stood, “Well I am going to get changed.”

Archie restrained me, “Bill, stay out of sick bay.  Let Doc do what he does best.  He will tell us when he knows anything.”

“I know Archie but I can’t sit here.  I have to be doing something.”

After I had bathed and changed I did not feel any better but I was cleaner. I headed to the mess. I was not hungry but I needed a drink. As I passed the sick bay I resisted the urge to enter. I was a few yards beyond the entrance when I heard Doc’s voice, “Bill!”

I whipped my head around, “How is he?”

“He will live but his kneecap was mashed by those bullets. I can’t see how it can be repaired.  He will have a stiff leg for the rest of his life.”

“But he will live?”

“Oh yes.  He is like you Bill, tough as old boots. His war is over.”

I burst out laughing.  I could have kissed the doctor. “Thank God for that.  His hands are fine?”

He gave me a quizzical look, “Aye, why?”

“He wants to be a mechanic.  He can do that with a gammy leg. Doc, I’ll buy you a drink in the mess tonight.  You have earned it!”

Considering that our friend was crippled the air of celebration that night might have been a surprise to anyone from outside the squadron. We knew, however, that Gordy had beaten the odds.

I didn’t get to see him until we returned from our flight the next day. The Germans had fled when we arrived but two American fliers had fallen. We had been too late.

Ted and I were the first ones to visit him.  He looked very pale and his eyes were closed when we entered. Perhaps he smelled the whisky on our breath for he opened them as soon as we stood next to his bed. He tried to smile, “Thanks for yesterday, Bill.  I owe you my life.  That bugger nearly had me.  Did you get him?”

I mimed an explosion and said, “Boom!”

“Good I hope the bastard is burning in hell.  I am a cripple now.”

I laughed, “Join the club! Stop being as miserable as Ted here.  You have your hands and you can still be a mechanic.”

Ted snorted, “Aye and you have survived the war.  Think of the poor buggers like Charlie and Lord Burscough. They would take a gammy leg any day.”

He brightened, “Hey you are right. Sorry. Who is taking over my flight?”

“Forget your flight!”

“Ted, you wouldn’t forget your flight would you?” Ted shook his head.

“I am not certain.  The next senior is Johnny Holt.”

“He’s a good lad.  The one I would recommend is Roger Clayson.  You trained him well, Bill.”

“Leave it with us and you get better.” I had seen Doc Brennan pointing to the door.  We had overstayed our welcome.

Archie agreed with me and we offered the flight to Johnny.  Surprisingly he refused, “Sorry sir but I would like to see this war out with Freddie.  We started together and I would like to finish together.  I got used to watching Major Harsker’s back and now I watch Freddie’s, I am happy enough.”

And so Roger Clayson became a flight commander.  He proved a good choice.

When we landed the next day Gordy had gone.  Had Beattie still been working then she would have seen him.  I wrote her a letter telling her the news.  I knew that she would be happy for Gordy while she would be terrified that my luck would run out too.

I suggested to Archie that we ought to take off earlier and be there when the Germans went up against the Americans. The Americans were brave but they were flying combat against the best German pilots.  They needed time to get the experience.

On the ninth of September we were there in the air when the American squadron met the Germans.  They had made the classic error of not gaining enough altitude. The Fokkers were swooping on them and had the advantage immediately. We were even higher and we dived into the attack.  We came in from their port side. It was a devastating attack.  The Jasta was so busy trying to shoot down the SPADs that they failed to see us until our machine guns chattered death and destruction.

Soon we were in a dogfight. Aeroplanes appeared from every direction.  We just had to react. Although we had shot down three in our initial attack this was a big Jasta with the best German buses they had. I had just ripped a hole in a Fokker’s wing when I saw two of them fall upon the rear of Freddie’s bus.  Johnny was busy engaging another Fokker. I aimed my Camel towards them but they were a good half a mile away.  I saw Freddie’s Camel judder as he was hit.  I cursed for I could not reach him in time.

Suddenly Jamie Fox appeared from nowhere and he flew between the two Fokkers. Although he hit the one behind Freddie I saw smoke coming from his Camel and he peeled away west. The move had, however allowed me to close with them and I fired a hopeful burst from distance.  It attracted the attention of the rear Fokker who tried to turn to take me on.  It was a mistake.  As he rose I fired a long burst and hit his engine.  He began to spiral towards earth. I banked to port and fired my last bullets at the Fokker damaged by Lieutenant Fox.  I headed west and escorted Freddie back to the field.  I flew next to him and he waved to show that he was uninjured.

I saw that Jamie had landed and I breathed a sigh of relief.  I had seen the Fokker’s bullets hit his cockpit.  Alarmingly his bus was surrounded by the Doc and his orderlies.  As soon as I landed I ran over to the Camel.  They had not removed Jamie yet and that was a worry. The orderlies parted and Doc, who was applying pressure from the far side of the cockpit, shook his head.

Jamie opened his eyes. He smiled, “It’s you sir. It looks like I won’t be going home to Caroline and my child after all.”

I forced a smile, “You don’t know the Doc here, he is a miracle worker.”

“Sir, you have never lied to me before, don’t start now. I am dying I know that but please, Major Harsker, as one Lancashire lad to another, promise me that you will look after Caroline for me. I know it is a lot to ask but, well you have been good to me and…”

His eyes closed and I feared that he would die before I could tell him. “I promise you that I will look after your wife and child as though they were my own family.  I swear!”

I was pleading with him to live but the look on the Doc’s face told me that he was going fast.

His eyes opened and he smiled, “Thank you, sir.  I knew you would and tell her that…” His eyes glazed over and he died. Another brave young man with everything to live for had had his life snuffed out in a heartbeat.

I had another letter to write that night.  It was to my wife.  I told her how Lieutenant Fox had died and my promise.  I felt guilty as I did so for she was now many months pregnant but I knew I had to tell her.  Poor Freddie Carrick was even more upset than I was.  He felt he had let Jamie down and to have had his life saved by him seemed to make it worse. Bates helped us both. He almost nursed Freddie back to some kind of sanity. The end of that week was the one where all of us feared for the squadron.  Gordy had been very popular and the manner of Fox’s death and the events leading up to it made everyone become jumpy.

When we were in the air we all did our job but it was noticeable that in the two days after Jamie died we did not claim any kills. We damaged a couple but it was almost as though we were afraid of combat. I found myself firing too soon and that had an effect on the others.

By September the sixteenth things had got so bad that Archie called a meeting of the flight commanders. Poor Roger Clayson was visibly nervous. In normal circumstances we would have tried to make him feel better but we had no time for such niceties.

“I know we have had a hard time of it lately but if we go on this way we will lose more buses and pilots than we save.” He looked directly at me.  “Bill, you are holding back and not taking it to the Germans as you once did.” He paused, “Is it deliberate or do you not know that you are doing it?”

Everyone looked at me now. “I suppose it is deliberate.  I made a promise to young Fox that I would look after his wife and child.  If I die then I am condemning two wives and two children to a life without a father.” I swallowed my whisky.  “I need to survive this war.”

I saw sympathy on all of their faces.  They understood what I was saying. Archie’s voice however was commanding. “That is nonsense Bill! The worse way to approach air combat is nervously. You of all people know that.  My God man, you are one of the leading aces in the Royal Air Force. You have survived because you do fly on the edge.  If you fly nervously then you will be shot down and then you will die.  Do you understand me?”

“Sir, I agree with you but there are now just three of us still alive from the dozens of officers who have passed through this squadron.”

His voice softened, “And you will survive.  Of that I have no doubt.  When you fly as God intended then no one can defeat you. Even the Red Baron was outshone by you.” He leaned over and touched the back of my hand. “But even if that were not true then you owe it to the young pilots. They look up to you.  If you doubt yourself then what do you think that does to them?” I felt the pressure building up inside me.  He was right. “Roger, you are one of the younger pilots.  Am I right?”

Captain Clayson looked at me and said, “He is right sir.  I have heard it in the mess.  The young lads are becoming more nervous because they see you acting nervously in the air.”

“So you are all saying that this is my fault?”

Ted lit a cigarette and said, “No, you daft bugger, but we are saying that you are important to this squadron whether you like it or not. What you do and how you act impacts on everyone.  I know what you are saying about being responsible for two women and two bairns but you could be condemning many more to that fate. If it makes a difference then I promise to look after the mothers and the babies if you die.” He paused, “I would be bloody useless at it but you have my word!”

His words made us all smile and I nodded.  “Then I will try to behave normally in the air; if only to stop the nightmare of you looking after Beattie!”

Bates must have had spies in the walls for when I returned to my quarters he said, “Just trust in yourself Major Harsker and trust in God.  He will not allow such a fine gentlemen as yourself die in the air.”

I was not certain I could trust God but I could trust my own ability to fly and to fight. I determined that if they wanted a martyr and someone to follow then I would be that man. I knew that Ted would not let me down if I should fall.  But I also remembered Bates’ words and the last salutation on each of my wife’s letters.  I would trust to God.

The next day we were ordered towards Cambrai and the canal Du Nord. Once we captured this canal then we would have the Hindenburg line under our control and Germany would be within our grasp. I chose to lead the line as we headed for the canal.  We knew we would draw the enemy and I was grateful to see the full squadron of SE5s on our starboard side.

The Germans were there the moment we began to machine gun the German soldiers.  For once their height did not aid them as much as it might.  We were at ground level and they had to dive a long way to reach us. We climbed in our four lines with the SE 5s in echelon to starboard.  As we climbed I chose my target.  It was a Fokker with a red nose and propeller.  I knew that every eye was upon me and I waited before I fired.  However I did not want to die and I used every trick at my command. I trusted Wally enough to know that he would watch my actions and then react. I feinted left and then right.  I dipped my nose and I raised it. Each time I knew that the German was noting my actions.  Even though we closed together really quick fighter pilots had quick reactions.

He opened fire and I feinted to port.  He anticipated me then turned to my right and I did not. His bullets whizzed through my wings, striking a strut on the way. I fired at fifty feet as he tried to regain the initiative. Wally opened fire, too, and his bullets struck the German’s tail while I hit the side of his cockpit and his engine.  He began to go down as he lost power. I turned to port.  The squadron on our starboard flank could mop up those on that side.

Freddie was being attacked by a purple Fokker.  Wally and I came in from his flank and our four Vickers ripped into his fuselage. He tried to turn away and Freddie downed him.  The loss of two leaders opened the door to us and we caused mayhem as we attacked them from the front and the side.  They fought bravely and they damaged our Camels but we landed with every pilot intact and eight German pilots lay dead. We had won.

By the end of the first week of October we had broken through the Hindenburg line and created a gap nineteen miles wide.  It had been costly and we had but ten Camels in the air, the rest having suffered great wear and tear. For me the most important part was that we had suffered no losses.  Owen had been wounded again. Johnny had bad splinters in his arm but no one had been crippled or killed. In contrast many other squadrons had suffered great losses. I suppose ours had come earlier.

Our last serious obstacle was the main railway line which ran from north of Ypres into the heart of Germany. During the last week in October, after a two day stand down to allow pilots and buses to recover, the sixteen remaining pilots took off.  We had much further to fly these days and could only spend twenty minutes over our targets. It helped in one way for we did not need to save ammunition.  We felt like a true band of brothers now.  We had been to hell and back and survived. We could all see the writing on the wall now.  This war could not last much longer and it looked as though we had won.

That day we saw no German aeroplanes.  Below us we saw lines of German prisoners heading west.  Archie led us down to ground level.  The Handley Page bombers above us were returning, having bombed the railway line already. Our job, along with fighter bombers was to disrupt any attempt to repair the line and enable the advancing Australians and Americans to capture the munitions in the warehouses.  If the Germans had no supplies then they could not fight.

We flew into a scene from hell.  Fires were raging and German soldiers were attempting to put out the fires. The railway line would take weeks to repair.  Our task was simplicity itself. We attacked the column of lorries which were trying to rescue as much as possible from the burning buildings.  Soon there was a traffic jam of destroyed vehicles. We had, literally minutes over the target before we had to return home.

That evening, in the mess, we heard the news we had been waiting for. We were to get new pilots and Camels the following week and we were to stand down until then. There was an air of relief in the mess that night.  We had seen with our own eyes that the Germans were beaten.  The Hindenburg line was breached and it was a matter of time before they surrendered. We discussed and pontificated when that day might come. The younger pilots all thought it would be over by December but we older ones were convinced that we would see the war still being fought in 1919.

Randolph speculated that we might have to move our airfield so that it was closer to the front line.  None of us were happy about that; Doyle Field felt comfortable. He did point out that it would be unlikely that we would have to fly many sorties as the war had moved too far to the east and there were many squadrons.

Our last sortie was on the twentieth of October. A Jasta had attacked the allied soldiers who were moving towards the new front line and we were sent to Vervins to patrol there.  It was half way to the front and would allow us at least thirty minutes in the air.  Other squadrons would replace us. As we prepared to leave I spoke with Archie. 

“Well laddie, it was to be expected.  The Hun is a good pilot and they wouldn’t just sit back and let us have a free rein.  This way they hit back but I am not worried.  We have the measure of these boys now.  It isn’t like 1915 when we nearly went under.”

“We were a different squadron then.”

He laughed, “Aye you were nearly court martialed!”

“Don’t remind of that.  I wonder how Colonel Pemberton-Smythe is these days.”

“Last I heard he was enjoying the country life.  This was not the war for an old gentleman like him.” he shook his head, “I am not sure it suited an old dinosaur like me either. Anyway I shall soon be like the old boy walking through the heather and enjoying my family around me.”

“You have been a great leader sir.  I appreciate the latitude you gave me.”

“Aye well it’s like I said the night I gave you your telling off; you are a gifted pilot.  You are without a doubt the best fighter pilot I have ever had the honour of serving with.  It would be a tragedy if you left the service. I have had enough but you; you could make a real difference.”

“Thank you sir, coming from you I take that as a great compliment.”

We took off on a chilly morning and headed east. Soon this would be a thing of the past.  I would no longer have to take my pistols, hip flask, bandages and all the other paraphernalia. The war would be over.  I would go home first, see my wife and my child and then make a decision about my future.  I respected Archie and he had given me much to contemplate.

Once again Archie led.  I frowned when I saw the low clouds. They were perfect for an ambush.  I thought about moving up into them even though we were still ten miles from our patrol.  Then I thought better of it.  It was not fair on my young pilots. It was incredibly hard to stay on station in low cloud.

The Fokkers came without warning.  Even as I was considering my course of action they plunged from the skies and attacked us from behind. In my mirror I saw Jack Fall as his Camel began to spiral out of control. Ralph Carter in front of him was my least experienced pilot and it showed.  He tried to climb and I saw his body judder as he was hit by two Fokkers.

I banked to port, looking for a target.  As I did so I saw Archie’s aeroplane as it exploded in the air. I had thought our war was over.  I had thought we had suffered our last death and I was wrong. The bastards would pay. As I banked around I saw, just twenty feet from me, a Fokker. I had no time to think and I just fired. His engine was hit and I saw the propeller stop.  I fired again and hit him. He plunged to the ground as the next Fokker tried to turn and fire at me. Wally’s bullets hit the pilot a moment or two before my bullets shredded his undercarriage.

As I came around I saw, to my amazement, that there were no German aeroplanes in the sky.  We had been attacked by just eight aeroplanes and they had all been shot down.  We had lost just the three aeroplanes but that did not make me feel any better.  Archie had gone west along with Jack and poor Ralph. I turned the Camel around and headed back to the field. As I flew I ran through my conversation with Archie. I thought about poor Jack. He had planned on remaining a pilot in the new Royal Air Force; that would not happen now.  Poor Ralph was due to be married at the end of the war and, like Jamie, his dream would remain unfulfilled.

Not a word was spoken as we trudged to the office. Randolph had a smile on his face and the whisky open as we walked in. One look at our faces and the lack of Archie made him slump into his seat.

“No, not Archie?”

I nodded, “And Jack Fall and Ralph Carter.  We were ambushed.” I raised my glass, “Archie!”

“Archie!”

I did not have the words to tell what had happened.  Ted had been at the rear and he told Randolph what had occurred. I wanted to be alone and I emptied my glass and headed for my quarters. Bates had had his cat’s whiskers working again and he was ready with the right words and a hot bath.

“Colonel Leach was a gentleman and he was proud of this squadron.  Simpkins, his batman told me many times that he thought he was incredibly lucky to lead such fine young men. He regarded you, Major Harsker as his protégé. He was as proud of you as his own sons. He had been a soldier all of his life and he died a soldier. I hear he didn’t suffer.”

He said that as though it made a difference. Dead was dead.  But I knew he meant well.  “No, Bates, he didn’t suffer.”