Winged Warfare (13 page)

We 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 around. 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.

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 the tenth of July, 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 seven o'clock that evening, but when that time arrived, the clouds were so low we decided it would not be worthwhile going up, so all roamed down to the tennis court. The weather became a bit clearer when we had just 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.

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 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 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.

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 report that he had been in a fight. Then, sending for the medical orderly, informed him he had a “scratch.”

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 realised 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, 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.

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 could 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 time, of course, 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.

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.

On the twelfth of July I was successful in coming 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.

Almost every evening, we would find well-laid traps set for us, and it required careful manoeuvring 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.

One evening, while out, I managed to surprise a Hun, and got within fifteen 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, opened 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 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.

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 nearby. 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 manoeuvres 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 don't realise that these little streaks of smoke which go by you, are really deadly bullets.

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 proposition. However, I managed to get as close as fifty 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 three hundred yards away. I fired a 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.

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 greatest 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.

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 was felt just before the fight started. But the moment my machinegun 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.

The 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 often before attacked, and probably before I had seen them, they had seen me.

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.

Then suddenly I realised 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 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 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.

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 in it.

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 how pleased I was, after carefully getting up to the required height, and feeling this wonderful, new high-powered machine under me, to suddenly see an enemy machine on our side. I gave chase but it slipped across the lines when I was only half a mile away. You can imagine how annoyed I was to be unable to follow it.

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.

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.

I went out alone, as soon as the weather was fit, and after patrolling over the enemy 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 to all 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.

On the twenty-eighth 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 single German machine in sight. I decided to take a look in Hunland. I flew about fifteen miles in before I saw a single 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 five 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 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.

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 manoeuvre.

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 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 realise 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 one thousand 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 realising that something was very wrong, I flew back toward him.

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 machine to get him out, but 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 seemed 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.

A few days later I learned that in this particular place, the people holding the line 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.

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 seven thousand 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 evidently 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 evidently terrified of this type, and would not stay to fight us.

Then suddenly I saw four enemy scouts, and at the same moment they saw us. They approached, evidently with the intention of attacking us, but when only three hundred yards away recognised 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 manoeuvring, 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 realising 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.

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 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.

After this had gone on about ten minutes, I realised that to actually bring them down I must do better shooting, so picking the one which was higher than the rest, I concentrated on him and got within fifty 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 realised 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 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 those Huns, holding them absolutely under his dominion. I reached the aerodrome ten minutes before the thunderstorm broke.

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, 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.