I
A FLYING FIGHTER
3
Lieut. E. M. Roberts, R.F.C.
A
FLYING FIGHTER
An American above the Lines in France
BY
Lieut. E. M. ROBERTS, R.F.C.
Formerly •/ the Tenth Canadian BaUalion
ILLUSTRATED
HARPER y BROTHERS PUBLISHERS
NEW TORK AND LONDON
cop \
A FtYiNC Fighter
Copyright, 1918, by Harper & Brothers Printed in the United States of America Published March, xqiS
B-S
To
The memoby op CAPTAIN E. A. BUENEY Killed in action on the Somme July, 1916
For I dipt into the future, far as human eye could see
Saw the Vision of the world, and all the wonder
that would he; Saw the heavens fill with commerce, argosies of
magic sails, . Pilots of the purple twilight, dropping down with,
costly hales;
Heard the heavens fill with shouting, and there
rained a ghastly dew From the nations airy navies grappling in the
central hlue;
Far along the world-wide whisper of the south wind
rushing warm, ^ ,
With the standards of the peoples plunging thro
the thunder-storm; Till the war-drum throhVd no longer, and the
hattle-fiags were furled. In the Parliament of man, the Federation of the
world.
—From "Locksley Hall," hy Alfred Tennysw.
I
/
CONTENTS
CHAPTER VAG^
I A Start at Soldiering i
II Getting Near the Front .... i6
III Gassed 26
IV Sped BY Machine Guns 36
V Running the Gauntlet .... 47
VI Wounded Again 65
VII Joining the Flying Corps .... 80
VIII My First Flight 97
IX My First Hun . 112
X My Commission 124
XI Battering the Hun . . . . . .138
XII "Pizz" AND "Randie" 147
XIII Daredevils 162
XIV The Big Push i7S
XV Learning to Fly 201
XVI Stunts and Accidents . . . . . 226
XVII Air Battles over the Lines . . . 245
XVIII Back to Blighty 267
XIX Old Times and New 287
XX Meeting the King 299
XXI In the Clouds 320
APPENDIX
Just Flying Man's Talk 333
ILLUSTRATIONS
Lieut. E. M. Roberts, R.F.C
An English Recruiting Poster
Thirty-five Hundred Loaves of Bread for the Boys
Author as Despatch Rider
At Home •
Awaiting Orders
Good Pals
A Slight Mishap
City of Albert, France, Taken from Seventy- five Hundred Feet with Machine on Ver- tical Bank
Slightly Nose-heavy
Ready for Action
The Pilot
Helmet Worn by Author When Wounded in the Battle of THE Somme, July 2, 1916 . .
Inside Out, Showing Where Pieces Went In, and Blood
Prom Left to Right: Bullet Lodged in Gasoline Tank at Thirty-six Hundred Feet. — Shrap- nel Ball Which Went Through Carbureter AT Twenty Thousand Feet. — ^Tappet Rod Which Burst at Seven Thousand Feet. — Bullet Which Struck Author in Side
Shot Down from Ten Thousand Feet
A Bad Landing in a Heavy Gale . .
Leaving for the Lines
12A Bombing and Fighting Plane . .
A Squadron of Single-seated Fighters
A Pair of Birds, Author and Machine
Frontispiece Facing p.
40 40 124 124 " 124 124
" 154 " 154 " 154
196 196
196 262 262 316 316 328 328
PUBLISHER'S NOTE
Although Lieutenant Roberts's modest preface makes little reference to the exploits which he has lived through, the readers of the extraordinary story which follows may care to know a few personal facts at the out- set. It was in 1914 that this adventurous young American enlisted, and it was early in 1915 that he reached the Western Front. It was not until November, 1917, that he re- turned to this country. In that time he won his commission and more than won the air- fighter's title of Ace, for in his battles he has brought down not merely five but seven Huns. His victories did not leave him un- scathed. He was wounded four times in mid- air, once at the Battle of the Somme. And certainly after such service there is a story to tell which, as it seems to those who have known it, has not been equaled in its own field for intensely human interest and dramatic quality.
PEEFACE
This is the story of three years of active service on the Western Front, most of the time in the Flying Corps. I hope that the story will interest readers. If not, it cer- tainly will not be the fault of my experiences in themselves.
The leaders of the Allied forces in Enrope have realized long since that air service is one of the premier branches of the military establishment. The aerial observer has come to be the eyes of the army. It is he who often brings the first news that the enemy is getting ready for an o:ffensive. Upon him the commanders rely for information as to all movements behind the enemy lines. The aerial observer directs the fire of his artil- lery, and, finally, when the men go over the top, he is often the sole means of communica- tion between headquarters and the firiag line.
It is needless to say that the enemy is not
THE FLYING FIGHTER
in ignorance of the great service rendered by the airman. To cripple that service as much as possible he sends up his own aviators, especially when his anti-aircraft batteries have failed him. It is then that the man aloft is called npon to defend himself as well as those on the gronnd, to whom he is giving the best that is in him. Then comes the aerial duel. And in mot cases one of the com- batants crashes to the ground — ^it has been his last flight.
These are the things which I have set down here.
But I have not overlooked the humorous side of the airman's life. After nerve-rack- ing hours in the air the necessity for relaxa- tion is great, and then he generally applies himself to that with the same vigor that marks his conduct while on duty. Ours is a short life, so why not make the most of it while it lasts? That is the axiom of all bird- men.
But while there are plenty of thrills in this fighting in the air, I have not written solely for the purpose of entertainment. My three years at the Front have made me realize
PREFACE
more than ever that the Great War is not yet won. It has been said a thousand times that this is not simply a "War between armies. Since my retnrn from the battleground I have asked myself the question: To what extent does the American public realize that the World War is a titanic struggle between all the economic resources and forces of the nations involved rather than simply a war between the fighting armies?
I have come to the conclusion that Ameri- cans generally do not recognize this in spite of the introduction of meatless and wheatless days and coal saving. The reason seems to be that we are too far away. "We are handi- capped by distance. So far the United States has only begun to feel the War, as its effects are measured in European countries. Let us hope that realization of the War's mean- ing and responsibilities will become general before it is forced home by hundreds of thou- sands of casualties. Efficient preparation will prevent losses in the end.
E. M. R.
New York, February, 1918.
CHAPTER I
A STAET AT SOLDIEEIHG
An American, born in the city of Dn- luth, Minnesota, I had inherited a love of adventure which asserted itself strongly while I was young. When a lad ten years old, I ran away from home and started ont to see the Great Northwest and' make my own way in the world. And since that time the greater part of my schooling has been in the Univer- sity of Hard Knocks. A great many of my companions were men made famous by Jack London in his works; indeed, Jack himself was a good friend of mine, having done me many a good turn; in fact, he once saved my life.
After leaving home, I was attracted by the woods and took up lumbering. But after an accident in a sawmill, I had to give it up.
1
THE FLYING FIGHTER
Then I crossed the border over into Canada and from that time on I took np anything and everything. I went into mining, then I went into the automobile game. Then I tried rail- road construction work, cow-punching, sheep- raising, and when war broke out I was up in the foothiUs of the Rockies drilling for oil. It will seem incredible when I say that the Battle of the Mame and the first battle of Ypres were matters of history before I knew that there was a war, and that the greater part of the civilized world was arrayed against Germany and German Militarism. In October, 1914, I started from the plains for a short visit to Calgary. On my way I had to catch a train at Okotokos, where I had bought a steak which was wrapped up in a newspaper. Butchers and customers in that country were not particular in matters of hygiene. I saved the paper to read, for I had been away from all settlements for some weeks ^nd had heard nothing of the War. The headlines broke the news to me that Germany had taken it upon herself to decide the ques- tions of the day by the sword. It struck me that this would provide the excitement I had
2
A START AT SOLDIERING
been looking for. But I little thought when: I first saw those headlines that from that time on my fate wonld be in the hands of des- tiny and that the breaking of log jams on the Five Miles Rapids in the Mississippi, service with the Sheriff's posse chasing cattle thieves, and shootnps in the barrooms of cow towns where half the participants were killed wonld all be like pink teas compared with what lay before me on the Western Front of the Great War.
I had come to Okotokos for the purpose of having a conple of days in which to clear np some freight which lay in the yards. In spite of that, I soon found myself on the way to Calgary, where I figured on having a few days with friends whom I had not seen in a long time. I had come ninety miles from my camp, making the trip in a day and a half in my eagerness to see town.
At Calgary I met an old friend of mine called Ross, but known to his intimates as ''The Fish," from the fact that he was a native of Nova Scotia. We shook hands and sailed a few schooners across the bar of the good hostelry where I had put up. The only
3
THE FLYING FIGHTER
thing we talked of was the War. * * The Fish " told me there had been a call that morning for some two or three hundred men for service in Europe, and he added, Let's join." I said, **Jake," meaning all right, as that was exactly what I expected to hear from Fish, for I knew him to be an adventurer and a good fellow. And though neither of us had ever soldiered a day in his life, we made up our minds to join the forces that were being raised if they would have us. We spent the greater part of that night talking war and killing a few regiments of Huns over the cup that cheers.
Next morning the papers were full of what the Germans were doing in Belgium and that increased our determination to enlist. We were a little cautious, however, and before starting for the recruiting place we looked up a friend and had him explain to us the for- malities that would have to be gone through. The only advice 'he could give was that if we didn't hurry up, it might be all over before we enlisted. This was quite enough and in- side of two hours I was a member of the Tenth Canadian Infantry Battalion.
4
A STAET AT SOLDIEEING
After taking a look at the barracks I thought it no more than prudent to straighten out my personal affairs. My boss, an American by the name of Saunders, thought I was crazy and said so.
Before you get over there, the war will be over," he said.
And before it is over you will get into it,^' I returned.
I cannot recall now whether I meant that or not, but, as the saying goes, many a true word is spoken in jest. Ten months later, Mr. Saunders had taken up recruitiag work for the Canadian Government, being too old for service in France.
As a parting present he gave me a box of cigars, together with the good advice one gen- erally hands out to a young man about to become a soldier.
I returned to the barracks and did my best to find military life agreeable. While the call issued had been for three hundred men, at the most, about seven hundred actually volunteered, so that I thought myself lucky to have been accepted.
The officer in charge of the barracks knew 5
THE FLYING FIGHTER
lue quite well. He also knew of my familiar- ity with mechanics, and for that reason caused me to be transferred to a mechanical trans- port section. I cannot say that this pleased me greatly. That job seemed a little too tame. At any rate I thought that my days in the zone of danger were over then and there. Later, however, I was to find out that this was a very premature conclusion, especially when trench warfare, and warfare of several other kinds, came to be my daily lot.
I managed to get my pal, **The Fish," transferred with me, and that helped both of us to get over the rude shock to which our great enthusiasm had been subjected. The day after enlisting we were sent in a west- ern draft column to Valeartier, Quebec. Henceforth, * 'fours right" and "fours left" got to be all there was in life.
**Evoluting" on the camp ground gave me a new opinion of military life. I could not see why on earth we had to do all this when they wanted men in France. Of course, I had a hazy notion that discipline was necessary, and that I should not call the Colonel * * George ' * on parade. But why all this walk-
6
A START AT SOLDIERING
ing? My idea of warfare was to fight from tree to tree and rock to rock in the manner which once was famous in the West. I knew nothing of trenches and cannot say that I cared to know anything about them. My vision of handling shovels was too closely as- sociated with railroad building and mining. I have done pick and shovel work in my time and it seems to be an excellent occupation for men with weak minds and strong backs. But not for me.
However, they have the knack of shatter- ing dreams aroxmd military camps. Mine went with the rest, but the cause, for which I had enlisted, seemed so good that I resolved to put into practice the meaning of the motto — Everything is worth trying once. More- over, soldiering did not seem so very unrater- estiQg, despite its routine and restrictions. Fiaally, here was the chance of seeing a new country.
Weeks and weeks of training were our lot. It was a case of getting up at 5 :30 in the morn- ing in temperatures that seemed to stay more or less around 30 degrees below zero. After getting up we would run several times around
7
THE FLYING FIGHTER
a race track for exercise, have breakfast, and then spend the greater part of the day in similar body and mind hardening work. I will confess that had I known what was in store for me no team of horses could have dragged me into an army. My idea had been that I should be given a uniform and a gun; then I would sit down and wait for orders to sail to France and get into the thick of it. Some of the boys grumbled a little at the delay, but in the end we all made up our minds that now we. were in it there was noth- ing to do but stick to it and hope for the best. The first seven years would be the worst, said some kind people, intending to be facetious.
But all things come to an end, and so did the eternal setting-up drills at the camp. Finally I got a job driving one of the heavy motor trucks, known in the British Army as a lorry.'' Not very long after that I was made a sergeant in a mechanical transport section and sent to Toronto, Ontario, to train with the Second Division.
This transfer was not what I had been looking for. I had hoped to stay in the
8
A START AT SOLDIERING
mobile army and get some fighting in the line. But people had a knack of remember- ing that I knew a little abont the antomobile, and in Canada snch men were rare.
The order came that aU Americans were to be onsted from the army. But the Com- manding Officer called the Americans to- gether and asked ns if we wanted to take our discharge or not. One man did this but the rest of us stayed. We were required to sign new attestation papers, but before we could do that, we had to select some particular part of Canada as our nominal birth place. I stated that I was born in Sasalta, Alberta. Another man said that he hailed from To- ronto— in fact, none of us had any trouble finding fictitious places of birth in the Do- minion until it came to Tom KeUy, of Chi- cago, who had given the matter no thought. To the officer who questioned him, he said that he was bom in BeansriUe. The officer wanted to know where BeansriUe was located, and Kelly replied:
**0h, somewhere in Fish Country."
The officer promptly put down Beansville, Nova Scotia, and everything was in order.
9
THE FLYING FIGHTER
I didli't drive the lorry very long after that, being set to work to initiate recruits into **fours right and left/' ^'sections and half- sections,' ' and the like. When not occupied with driU I wonld take a turn as orderly (dog) sergeant of the day, mount guard at night, and see that everything was clean and ship-shape in the little zone that was mine, in order to please the officer of the day when he did his rounds.
There was also a great deal of clerical work to do. I had to write all the passes for the men getting leave to go into town. With that came responsibilities, which often were irksome. The passes for the men had to be taken to the Commanding Officer for his con- sent and signature, and when the officer re- fused to honor one of them, I generally was blamed for it, especially when a fellow had made an appointment with some young lady.
There was a fence around the camp and many a man, refused admission to go to town, had his first experience there at * Agoing over the top." And though the top of the fence was lined with barbed wire, the boys put a
10
A START AT SOLDIERING
plank over it, and many a night that plank worked overtime. To get back into barracks was a little more difficult, however; but gen- erally the man who had gone without leave straightened things ont with one of the guards, and so avoided trouble with the au- thorities.
Intoxicating drinks of any sort were pro- hibited in camp, but for all that many a bottle was smuggled in, even after systematic search of the men returning from town. Some of the men were most resourceful in finding places where they could hide the flasks. They would secrete them in their riding breeches, in their caps, and when this no longer worked, they went so far as to buy cakes a little larger than a flask, hollow them out and then put the bottle in it. These delicacies were sup- posed to come from home and the guards were fooled for a long time until one day a cake made a most peculiar noise as it was being examined by a non-commissioned officer. As he shook the cake, a f amUiar sound fell upon his ears. It sounded like liquor in a bottle. Whereupon this avenue of importing intoxi- cants into the camp was closed, and the 11
THE FLYING FIGHTER
sergeant inspector was richer by one bot- tle, which was divided among the guard.
It was an easy thing in those days to get kicked out of the army altogether, for men were still plentiful, and one had to be almost a physical marvel to get into the service at all.
We spent some time in a camp on the shores of Lake Ontario, where uniforms were finally issued to us. The funny little coats they gave us, and the regulation breeches had a queer look about them; I felt that my friends back home, had they seen me in this get-up, would have had me examined as to my sanity. For ridiQg breeches were only used by the idle rich, in the Northwest.
The underwear they issued us was even more of a trial. It was rough and a person putting it on for the first time had the im- pression that the **kooties'* had settled all over him, as indeed they did in the case of many.
Though I had done everjrthing possible to keep these insects away from me, I discov- ered that my efforts were unavailing. It got to be a question of how to get rid of the pests,
12
A STAET AT SOLDIERING
and, having heard of a method that would accomplish this, I thought that I would try it. We had a dog for a mascot, and dogs, as everyone knows, have fleas. It is said that there is eternal enmity between kooties and fleas and that one will not stay where the other is. With that in mind, I transplanted a few of the fleas upon myself, so that they might declare war upon the kooties and drive them out. But before the experiment could be successfully concluded, I thought it well to apply a chemical remedy ; anyway the de- sired result was obtained, which gave me what I hoped for.
By this time most of us had become familiar with the little tricks of barrack life. We had a good doctor, who thought nothing of excusing us from drill and other hard work so long as we said that we were sick. The result of this was that many of us were sick every cold morning that came along, espe- cially when the night before we had done overtime playing poker and rolling the
bones."
The money that was won at these games was in 1. 0. TJ.'s generally, but now and
13
THE FLYING FIGHTER
then one actually managed to get some real cash. Gambling got to be a mania with ns and the gang would sooner play poker than eat. It ultimately reached a point where the men would play for everything and anything, even their shoes. And the Doc got wise, and after that when a man went sick he got a dose of castor oil at the very least.
Our military training was making some headway, however. We came to understand the different bugle calls, and we learned how to handle the rifle and bayonet and how to shoot.
We were now told that our training would be completed in England ; France seemed as far away as ever. Most of us thought that the war would surely end before we got there.
As week after week passed away the chances of seeing the battlefield seemed more re- mote.
But one fine day in March we received or- ders to get ready to entrain. There was much hustle and happiness — faces were glowing, and the old grudges were forgotten. The preparations for our departure were made in jig time. A few telenhone calls to wives,
14
A START AT SOLDIERING
mothers and sweethearts, and the men were ready.
On the day of onr departnre the camp grounds were packed with relatives and friends who came to say good-bye ; in the case of many it was to be a last farewell.
CHAPTER II
GETTING NBAB THE FEONT
Needless to say, we had a hearty reception everywhere on our trip East. Within six hours of our arrival at Halifax the organiza- tion had embarked and was on its way to Europe.
The first thing that attracted my attention on our arrival in Liverpool was the funny little English trains. The coaches with their compartments did not impress me favorably, but I found them quite comfortable for all that. They were so packed that some of us had to sit on the floor. I also discovered that these little English trains could move at a mighty good speed.
At about one o'clock in the morning we stopped, detrained, and made a long march to the camp which had been made ready for us. There we were given blankets and a cup of
16
GETTING NEAR THE FEONT
hot tea ; and then we turned in and soon every- body was fast asleep, the railroad trip and the march having made us a weary crew, in- deed. Next morning, at reveille, we found that we had come to England for no other purpose than to continue the dull drilling that we had left off in Canada. This was disap- pointing, but we were set to work to get over it. It had been raining and the mud was deep enough to lose your shoes in. We were not used to wet weather and within two or three days the sick parade was bigger than usual, and not a few of us were laid up for a long time. The climate proved too much for me also. Chills had settled all over me, and I was hoarse, but despite that I continued my duties. On one occasion I was in charge of the sick parade and as I marched the men over to the doctor I had practically no voice left. The doctor had some difficulty in under- standing me, but he was quite cheerful about it.
"What's the matter with you this morn- ing he inquired. **You make a sound like a codfish.*'
I explained that I did not know exactly what 17
THE FLYING FIGHTER
was the trouble, so the doctor took my tem- perature and called the ambulance. I was to be taken to a hospital, the very thought of which gave me the shivers. I suggested to the doctor that possibly the affair could be settled without going to the hospital.
**Well,'* he said, **if you don't go now your friends will be walking slowly behind you next week.''
That seemed good advice to me, especially since I was under the spell of the big med- ical term which the doctor had made use of so casually — bronchial pneumonia.
I managed to survive the attack and upon return to my unit found that the Command- ing Officer had decided to give me back pay and three days' leave to go to London, a city which I then saw for the first time.
The British capital was known to me only through a few pictures of the more important places, such as Westminster Abbey, the Tower, and St. Paul's Cathedral. But I had heard a lot about Leicester Square, Hyde Park, the Strand, Charing Cross and Picca- dilly Circus, and I wanted to see them. As a natural result, at two o'clock in the mom- 18
GETTING NEAE THE FRONT
ing, after my arrival, I found myself lost in the streets of London. I stated my trouble to a very obliging Bobby, who was somewhat handicapped in helping me, for the reason that I had forgotten the name of the hotel where I was stopping. There was nothing to do after that bnt to hire a taxi and spin aronnd tmtil I should have located the place, some hazy notion as to its locality being still in my mind. The taxi hadn't gone more than thirty yards when I saw the house for which I had been looking so anxiously just across the street. And there I learned that the Lon- don taxi driver knew his busiaess, and also how to charge.
But further adventures were to come. A day or two after my arrival in town I thought I would like to see Piccadilly Circus, hoping, of course, to find a big tent and a lot of side shows, and all that goes with an estab- lishment of the sort. I asked a Bobby for directions and I remember his making the remark :
**This 'bus goes right through it." Thinking that the omnibus was a Circus Special," I started on my ride without both-
19
THE FLYING FIGHTER
ering much about my destination. There ought to be no trouble finding out when I was at the circus. After a ride of about half an hour the conductor climbed up the stairs for another fare.
**Say, isn't it near time we got to Picca- dilly Circus r' I said.
''Why, you went through there about twenty minutes ago," he replied. **You are out at Clapham Commons now.'*
There was no doubt that I had missed the Circus, but I was still anxious to see it and started out once more in quest of it. I took another omnibus, gave the conductor his four pence, climbed on top and rode until I felt sure we must be somewhere near the Circus. Just then the conductor came up for another fare. I wanted to know where Piccadilly Circus was.
''Why, man, this is Hyde Park Corner,'' he replied. "We went through the Circus about five minutes ago."
Having fifteen minutes the best of the first lap, there was nothing to do but get off that 'bus and think it over for a while. It seemed a little strange that I should be constantly 20
GETTING NEAR THE FRONT
going throngli the Circus and not see any- thing of it. I decided to try a taxi, to the driver of which I gave particular instmctions to take me to Piccadilly Circns and drop me off in the middle of it. The man smiled and drove off. In abont three minntes he stopped and opened the door for me to get ont. I looked aronnd for a circns bnt saw none. The only thing that came at all near remind- ing me of a show were some flower girls near a foxmtain. Under the circnmstances it seemed best to take the taxi driver into my confidence. After much explanation on my part, which afforded not a little amusement to the chauffeur, I learned that Piccadilly Cir- cus is a sort of semi-circular place into which lead seven thoroughfares from the several parts of the city.
The constant traveling I had done on the 'buses had given me a very good appetite, and to appease it I walked into the first place I came to. This happened to be one of Lon- don's ultra-fashionable tea parlors. The place was fairly well packed at the time but I managed to find a place at a table. I no- ticed that everybody was sipping tea and
21
THE FLYING FIGHTER
eating cakes, but that was not the sort of food I was looking for. The waiter wanted to know whether I had come to take tea, to which I replied that a steak about the size of a barn door, done rare, and served with fried onions, would suit me much better. The man's jaw dropped and everyone around be- gan to smile. I was- informed that this was a tea-room and not a restaurant. Too timid to leave the place, I ordered some tea and ate about two dollars worth of biscuits before I had satisfied my appetite. I found out then and there that the cost of living in England was higher than I had thought. It was just as well that my stay in London was lim- ited to three days.
Upon my return to the camp I found that I had been transferred to a mechanical base to drive a mobile workshop. This detail gave me a good opportunity to see much of rural England and its beautiful scenery. The fine old trees especially interested me, as did the lovely old-fashioned houses, the fine lawns and well-kept orchards; also the hop fields.
A little later I was one of those picked to go to France in a draft for the mechanical 22
GETTING NEAR THE FRONT
service. Little by little I was moving np closer to the front. There was a possibility of running into a submarine or *Hin fish/' as the Boys called them, while crossing the Eng- lish Channel, though it was known that they were not out in full force just then. We landed in France after an entirely uneventful journey, and in a little French estaminet we drank our first French wine. It did not taste good to me; in fact it was sour. I noticed, however, that there were many good-looking girls about the place and they made a much better impression upon me than the wine had done.
On the same afternoon I made the acquaint- ance of the French railroads, the passenger cars of which are just as fxmny and little as those of the English lines. We traveled in freight cars, however, which are large enough to carry, as stated by a signboard on the sides of the car, forty men or eight horses — 40 hommes ou 8 chevaux.
In this manner we got to a railroad where we were met by an English sergeant-major and taken to a camp which was about six miles behind the lines.
23
THE FLYING FIGHTER
We thought that we were real soldiers now. The Commanding Officer of the base to which we had been taken was not of that opinion, though. The sergeant-major, who had been OUT reception committee, had brought ns to attention before the Commanding Officer with results that did not seem to have pleased either of them. The Commanding Officer gave us to understand that we were to be drilled and have discipline instilled into us even if he had to do it with a sledge hammer. That was definite enough, but we had the sat- isfaction of knowing that we would not stay in that place forever, consequently we let his remarks go in by one ear and out by another.
There was a businesslike air about the place which impressed us all the more when presently they issued to each of us a rifle and fifty rounds of ammunition, and assigned us the lorries we were to drive.
Before the day had grown much older I was given a good lesson in discipline. There was a queer mark on the body of the lorries — a triangle with a bar in its center. I wanted to know what that meant, but was given to understand that it was none of my *'blink-
24
GETTING NEAR THE FRONT
ing" business. All I had to do was to drive that lorry and keep it clean. There was a great deal of terseness about that remark, and I decided not to ask any more questions that seemed out of order.
Before long that old wagon became to me bedroom, sitting-room and what-not, all rolled into one. It wasn't such an uncomortable home at that.
My lorry belonged to a column that carried ammunition from the nearest railhead to the front. The first hurry call we had lasted three days. The Huns were getting busy on the salient. On arriving at the advance dump — ^the place where the gun-limbers get the ammunition for the batteries — I heard shells scream for the first time in my life. It gave me a peculiar sensation at first, though some- one said cheerfully:
**0h, you'll get used to this."
For all that, I always retained a wholesome respect for a high explosive shell.
CHAPTEB III
GASSED
OiT the morning of the first day of the sec- ond battle of Ypres, I happened to be doing some repair work on the section commander's automobile. In a nearby field was an artit- lery ammunition dump, and this the Germans seemed bent upon reaching with their shells. The fire was scattered, however, and before long it became entirely too hot around the car I was repairing and I was obliged to find shelter in a bomb-proof. There was a lull in the fire presently, and I concluded that it might be safe to resume my work. I had hardly come to the surface, however, when the Huns reopened their fire. It seemed best to get in the car and speed as far away from the front as was possible. I had gone down the road some two hundred yards when the section commander caught up with me and demanded his car, saying that he was in a
26
GASSED
hurry. So I jumped out and let him have it.
The fire continued and I could not see what good it would serve to stay in it. While I was walking along the road, about three-quarters of a mile behind the lines, the firing increased in intensity. The noise fascinated me. For about two hours I watched the spectacle of a front in eruption.
There was heavy firing all night, and the next morning I suddenly smelt something like chloride of lime. The stench increased all the time, and presently my lungs began to feel sore. I had a hard time breathing, and coming to a ditch I looked into it to see whether the smell was coming from there, chloride of lime being used generally for sanitary purposes. But I saw nothing in the ditch and my lungs began to hurt more and more. Finally I took my bandanna handker- chief and tied it over my mouth. A few min- utes later an ammunition lorry came tearing down the road. It picked me up and took me to the railhead, where, with four others, I was sent to a hospital and treated for gas poisoning. In three days I was sent to Eng-
27
THE FLYING FIGHTER
land with about twelve hundred other men who had been gassed or wounded.
That was only one ship-load, however. Several thousands of other wounded and gassed men followed us. Many of them were Canadians whose organizations had lost heav- ily in the second battle of Ypres, for it was the first time gas had been used on the Cana- dians. They were a heart-breaking sight, and I thanked my stars that I still had a whole skin.
The effects of the gas poisoning were not so easily gotten rid of, however. The cure was painful. It consisted for the major part of taking a lot of salt water and other emetics so that the system might be cleared of the gases assimilated by the lungs. The lungs remained congested for quite some time, and a peculiar irritation in the throat caused me on several occasions to cough myself into insensibility.
The gas patient is a hard case for the hos- pitals. I got very little sleep, mainly for the reason that I was tied up in bed in a sitting position, which, in the course of time, made me very ill-tempered and caused me to use
28
GASSED
language which afterward I regretted. Also I discovered that the hospital was under mar- tial law, and that this law was enforced as rigorously here as anywhere else. That helped me to settle down and take things as they came, but there were times when I thought very seriously that it would be better to die.
One day a doctor came to the hospital and picked out two patients he wished to cure at home. I was one of them. The other man had been wounded in sixteen places and was a terrible sight. When I saw him first it was believed that he would die, but within a few days he recovered sufficiently to stand the transfer from the hospital to -a place called Hawkhurst, near the doctor's home in Kent.
The two of us were given a large front room. But I could not stand the sight of my companion in misery. So he was presently taken to another part of the house. I can't remember the name of the man, but I know that he belonged to the artillery and that a Hun shell had burst about a foot above his head. His scalp was terribly lacerated and a piece of shrapnel had entered at the side
29
THE FLYING FIGHTEE
of the nose and emerged at the side of the neck. One of his eyes was black and closed, and the other eye he seemed unable to ever close. The only part of his body that was not bandaged was his right forearm, and that moved day and night.
I think he was conscious part of the time, for now and then he would utter a loud groan that made me jump. Fearing that the man was dying, I would call the night nurse and she would summon the doctor, a man who had the patience of J ob, as was shown one night when he was called six times and still man- aged to be pleasant and cheerful. He really deserved a medal for his unfailing good temper.
The people in that part of the country were very anxious to make us as comfortable at? possible, and they even got permission to take me to their homes. One old gentleman, of the name of Hardcastle, took me all over his place. He was somewhat of an Ameri- can, having operated at one time a cattle ranch in New Mexico.
Of course the odor I had mistaken for the smell of chloride of lime was that of German
30
GASSED
chlorine gas. I 'had breathed only a little of it and the effect had been bad enough. The troops on the firing line had suffered terrible losses from the gas. Shortly after that gas masks were issued and though they were very inconvenient, they were indeed life-savers and we welcomed them.
After my discharge from the hospital I was attached to a mechanical transport colnmn in England and in August, 1915, we received orders to proceed to France. The trip to the nearest seaport had to be made over the conn- try roads. I was section sergeant and in this capacity had to scout the roads ahead of the colnmn, on a motor cycle, thereby gaining the title of ''The Human Sign Posf In addi- tion to that I had to keep the convoy together. We passed through a lot of little English towns and lived mostly on bully beef and hard tack, though occasionally the farmers and vil- lagers along the road would ask us to eat with them.
Trouble seems to come in bunches, and I had several such bunches on that trip. As section sergeant I was riding a motor cycle, usually at great speed, with the result that 3 31
THE FLYING FIGHTER
my face was all wind-bnraed. The men, moreover, seemed bent on raising Cain before getting to France. There are a good many parallel roads in the parts of England we were going throngh, and often there are no signs on them. Since some of the fellows did not like the big clonds of dnst that were be- ing raised by the motor tracks in front, they wonld hang back and take some other road, nsnally the wrong one. That kept me bnsy. Keeping the convoy together at night, when often I had trouble with the headlight of the motor cycle, which had gone on strike, was no easy work. The roads all had high trees on each side, which made them look very much alike and kept them all the darker at night.
Hunting stray motor tracks nnder these conditions was not easy and generally so many were missing that I had to keep racing back and forth at high speed. One night I was hurrying along one of these roads, steer- ing by a speck of sky visible under the tree crowns. Suddenly I came to a turn in the road, missed it in the dark and ran full speed into a high hedge. The motor cycle landed
32
GASSED
in the ditch and I was catapulted over the hedge in a somersanlt. I had jnst come to a sitting position when somebody spoke to me. It was the colonel of an artillery camp who was on his rounds of inspection. He found my sudden arrival in his camp very funny, and laughed over it. Then he helped me back over the hedge. I found that the machine was still in working order and decided to take time to fix the headlight. Fortunately, I was none the worse off for the fall.
The convoy made good progress, however* Accidents were few. The most serious of them happened one day while we were going through a little village. One of the lorries hit a milk cart in the stern and drove the horse through a store window. But nobody was hurt. Another few miles -brought us to our goal — the seaport — though before we actually reached it I hit a cement block about a foot high while going at the rate t)f thirty miles an hour and had a very fine spill.
It did not take us long to embark the con- voy and a few days later we arrived at Eewan, in France, where we spent two days resting
33
THE FLYING FIGHTEB
up. Then the convoy was formed into column and started for the front.
We were required to travel as fast as we could, stopping only for our meals of bully beef and hard tack. For three weeks that was the only thing we had to eat, and upon our arrival at the first parking place, we began working day and night, to gather up and feed the Second Division, which was just then pouring into France ready to get into action.
Some of the machines were detailed to pick up stragglers, who were dropping out of the ranks during the long route marches over cobble-stone roads, while others were en- gaged in filling up the railhead with provi- sions and forage. This sort of thing con- tinued until we got closer to the advanced railhead, and there our real work began.
But before we got that far, two others and myself who had motor cycles made a trip to the nearest first line trenches where we had some friends. To do that was not easy, but we had no real trouble until we got to where the road pickets were. These we bluffed with the usual statement that we had dispatches. I may say that we did not always get away
34
GASSED
with the bluff. Some of the road pickets would want to see our identification papers as dispatch riders, and being unable to produce the goods we were often turned back. In that case we would ride a short distance down the road, get off our cycles, cover them with leaves and branches so that no one could see them, and then crawl around the picket on hands and knees until we were out of sight.
We were all right as soon as we got to the communication trenches, so long as we knew the name of the battalion we wanted to visit. Many queer things happened on these side trips. A pal of mine, named Emory, was caught in the wrong sector and though he had proof of his identity, the Command- ing Officer, to teach him a lesson, made him go out into No Man's Land to a listening post. After having been thoroughly scared by the Huns and reprimanded by the Commanding Officer of the battalion, Emory was sent back to his unit.
CHAPTER IV
SPED BY MACHINE GUNS
Little excursions to the firing line were the only diversion the men of the column had. They also gave us a chance to see a little more of war than running a lorry allowed. I had friend in nearly all of the battalions, and among my pals in the infantry was a fellow named Brown, who came from the Pa- cific Coast. I used to supply him with cigar- ettes and the like.
On one of the windy and rainy afternoons they get in the autumn in Flanders, I had gotten through a little earlier with my work and decided to see Brownie, for whom I had bought some socks. I managed to get past the road sentries all right and entered a little town called D. B. The place has long since been razed. On the other side of the little town there is a shallow lake about a mile and a half wide, which I would have to
36
SPED BY MACHINE GUNS
wade in order to reach my friend. Going through that lake was not an easy matter. "While one could be guided by the blasted tree stumps, along the submerged road, the ground had to be carefully inspected with one's feet if the many shell holes in the road were to be avoided.
Going along the road this afternoon I fell into three shell craters and had to swim to get out of them, which was not an easy job on account of the clothing I had on. I man- aged to get to the other side of the lake, but found that only a few of the communication trenches were safe. Though I was none too pleased with my trip by now, I decided to go on. To keep under cover I made up my mind to go through a little woods, on the other side of which the British lines were located. I had a disagreeable experience among the trees. I stepped on a grave and the odor that came out of it was sickening.
It had grown dark. I hung my coat on the cross at the head of the grave and lit a match to read the name on it — Private Bolton, Black Watch, the number of his regiment and the date of the action in which he was killed. 37
THE FLYING FIGHTER
Before the match died out I could see that there were more of these crosses and from inquiry I learned that some nine hundred Black Watch and Scots Greys were buried there. I was also told that the continual rains were gradually washing away the earth of the graves and thus exposing the dead.
My informant was a sniper and he and I talked war until a working party came up. It was going the same way I was and I de- cided to go along. We had to cross an open spot about fifty yards in width, and the Huns, who were on the side of a slope about a hun- dred yards away, knew it. Working parties and others going to the first line trenches also had to cross the exposed field. Every fifteen or twenty minutes the Germans sent up flares or star shells to light up the ap- proach to the trenches. Whatever they saw was sure to be machine-gunned. Many a poor €hap went down on that lonely and barren spot.
The locality was dismal in the extreme. On the few trees that were standing hardly a branch was left. The ground was mucky de- spite the efforts that had been made to regu-
38
SPED BY MACHINE GUNS
late the rain water by means of sand bags. It seemed to me that in Flanders they have nothing but rain. It came drizzling down in a world that was all gray except when lighted up by the star shells of the Germans, which would throw a ghostly light on the surround- ing country and then make it look all the more lonesome. I only wished that I were back in North America.
I did not like the idea of going over the exposed field and decided to cross it by means of an old French trench I had noticed. But I had not gone very far in the trench when I found it was closed with sand bags to keep out the water that was coming from the other side, so that a part of the trench might be used as shelter against the German machine- gun fire.
There was nothing to do but to get out of that trench again, but before I did that I picked up some French cartridges which I wanted to keep as a souvenir. In doing that I discovered that dead men had been buried in the trench but had evidently been uncov- ered by the rain. There was nothing to do but go to the front line with the working
39
THE FLYING FIGHTEE
party which was just starting across the ex- posed spot one at a time. The men would start as fast as legs conld carry them. Spurred by the thought that the German ma- chine guns might hit them they traveled some.
The Boche had learned, however, that the working party was on its way across, and as each man started to run the machine guns would speed him on his way.
The machine guns worked with a rapid- ity of six hundred shots a minute. The fourth man of the working party was half way across the open field when he pitched head first to the ground and lay still. The next man rushed to where the other had fallen, picked him up, swung him on his back, and then continued his running as fast as he could.
The star shells of the Germans came closer together now, and the machine guns fairly rattled at the two men.
We stood there with open mouths, hoping that the man carrying the wounded would not get hit and in our hearts we cursed the Huns who were doing the shooting.
40
AN ENGLISH RECRUITING POSTER
THIRTY-FIVE HUNDRED LOAVES OF AUTHOR AS DESPATCH RIDER
BREAD FOR THE BOYS
SPED BY MACHINE GUNS
The man finally gained a trench on the other side of the open ground, much to onr relief. At least one of the men was safe.
The race with death started anew. Other members of the working party rushed across the open space as fast as they could. One of ^ them fell, but he rose again and continued his mad race for the trench opening be- yond.
It got to be my turn. A rubber coat I was wearing hampered my movements and also reflected much of the light of the star shell which just then went up. I was nearly in the middle of the exposed field when Fritz started his machine gxm and caused me to move faster than before. My speed was a surprise even to me, and, despite the fact that I was ham- pered by the weight of wet clothing, I ap- proached the opening of the trench on the other side with such momentum that I was carried past it ; I landed head over heels in a telegrapher ^s dugout and knocked his stew and fire all over the shack.
I had deprived that man of his supper after he had risked his life to get some wood across the open space. He was drawing for his fuel
41
THE FLYING FIGHTER
supplies on a shell-blasted house about two hundred yards behind our line.
The man cursed me roundly, for which I do not blame him. He had been flirting with death to get enough wood for his supper and now I had spoiled it aU. For two weeks he had lived on bully beef and hard tack.
I squared myself by giving him a pocket alcohol lamp which I always carried with me. That appeased his wrath, and he was kind enough even to direct me to the first line trenches.
To get to the first line of the trenches I would have to take a certain communication trench, said the telegrapher. I started off through the deep mud, entered at the opening of the communication trench, but found that the ditch had been plugged up with sand bags to keep the water out.
It was the practice during rainy weather to cut off sections of the communication trenches in order that they might remain passable. The rain water collected in the deeper lying parts, from which it was lifted by means of hand pumps.
To get out of the communication trench at 42
SPED BY MACHINE GUNS
the **plug" meant to run once more into the machine-gun fire of the Germans. But there was no help for that. So I went over the top and reached the next stretch of the com- munication trench on the double quick. After a seemingly interminable wade through the mud, which formed the bottom of the trench, I finally got into the British first line to find that my pal was on picket. It would be an hour before I could see him.
That time I spent in the company com- mander's dugout watching through the peri- scope the star shells of the Germans. It was a splendid free fire-works show.
Brownie showed up finely and appreciated both the cigarettes and the socks I had brought him.
I hadn't seen my friend in quite some time and there were many things we had to tell one another — ^in whispers, of course, because we were only a few yards away from the Hun trenches.
Of a sudden some machine guns near us began to pump lead. Peeping over the para- pet of the trench we saw that the British had taken under fire an ammunition party of the 43
THE FLYING FIGHTEE
Germans, which jnst then became visible through a gap in a stone fence. It seems that the Hun ammnnition carriers had been observed a little further away. But they were in the habit of using the fence as cover. They would be fired upon promptly every time they reached the gap. The British were now send- ing up star shells so constantly that the countryside was lit up almost as well as if it had been day. The machine guns kept up a lively racket and presently they were joined by the rifles of the men in the trenches. The field artillery also took a hand in the affair and before long a very lively scrimmage was going on. They seemed to have plenty of ammunition just then. It was either that or the probability that somebody had mistaken the nature of the fight, which caused the howitzers and the heavier pieces also to be heard from. For over an hour the slam- banging continued and since there was no telling what the thing might develop into, I wished Brownie good-bye with a promise that I would see him again soon.
On my way back I fell from one mud hole into another and generally had a very good
44
SPED BY MACHINE GUNS
taste of what soldiering at night means. Walking in the mud was the hardest of work. It was a case of pnlling your foot out of twelve inches of mnck, sticking it in again and then repeating the operation. By the time I got to the dngont of the telegrapher I was dead tired. The thought occurred to me that I would ask the man to let me stay with him for the night, but I feared that he was still angry over the loss of his stew.
There was nothing to do but go on. I man- aged to cross the open field without being shot at and so got into the little woods. On the edge of the lake I fell into a smokebox hole. In my struggle to get out of it I exhausted myself so that I had to lie down in the mud and rest up a while. Then I waded through the lake, weighing a ton by this time, so it seemed. My clothing was wet, I was tired out, and the mud also added to my bur- den.
I was thankful when I got back on the main road where the mud was less sticky and not so deep. It was three o'clock in the morning before I got into camp, and at five o'clock I was on the road again with my convoy to 45
THE FLYING FIGHTEE
fetch material for the Eoyal Engineers, to whom I was then attached.
I had not had a chance to take off my clothing. When I looked myself over in day- light I saw that I was mud from head to foot and that there were six bullet holes in my raincoat. The bullets must have gone through the coat while I was running across the open ground with the coat standing out straight behind me owing to the speed I was making. The boys found my adventure of the night quite interesting, and I bet some of them two weeks' pay that I could outrun them under any circumstances.
i
CHAPTER V
BUNNING THE GAUNTLET
Our work at that time consisted principally of carrying barbed wire to the front through mud and slush of which there seemed no end. Northern France and Flanders seemed to be all mud in the winter — perhaps in summer too.
A few nights later the section commander ordered me to make up a convoy of seven
three-ton trucks and proceed to H for
twenty tons of coal. The drivers of the unit were men from all over the world. I had a Canadian, an American, an Australian, an Englishman, a Scotchman, a Swede, a Welsh- man, and a Frenchman. They were all men who had lived well in civilian life and the eternal stew of bully beef, and the hard tack, made for them a very monotonous bill of fare. The motor truck drivers anyway never lost a chance of getting better grub than the army 4 47
THE FLYING FIGHTER
ration, so at the railhead, where the French were unloading a merchandise train, some of my men looked aronnd for something to eat. We fonnd only six tons of coal, which we loaded on two of the lorries, and while the men were doing that I went to the base com- mander's office to find out about the rest. While I was away from the unit the idle men looked over the French army supplies, and soon found that they could use some of them. They helped themselves to a lot of canned goods. The prospects of getting a square meal were too tempting to be overlooked. The trouble was that the boys were not satis- fied with little ; instead of taking a few cans they took several cases, and when I came back a French officer had my men lined up and a couple of gendarmes were going through the lorries looking for the stolen goods.
I was not surprised for I knew my ever- hxmgry horde too well to think that they would overlook such a chance to get some- thing to eat. But for the sake of appear- ances I asked some of the men if there was anything wrong. The French officer told me that they were being searched for stolen
48
RUNNING THE GAUNTLET
goods. That settled it, for I knew that they had been fonnd out, otherwise the French officer would not have gone so far as he did. There was a fine chance for all of us being placed under arrest and courtmartialed. I thought the thing over quickly, went over to one of the lorries, pulled the gendarme out of it, and then shouted at the other. I asked them who had given them permission to search my lorries and was told that the French officer had ordered it. There was nothing else to do now but try issues with the officer. I went over to him and asked him by what authority he was searching British lorries without my consent or the consent of the British base commander. That was walk- ing on thin ice, of course. The base com- mander was an Englishman and I was a colonial ; I doubt very much if he would have given me protection. I asked the French officer for his name and address, and told him that I would report him to my commanding officer. That helped. My strategem suc- ceeded, and rather than have more fuss the French officer thought it best to call off the gendarmes. And on returning to camp I wa& 49
THE FLYING FIGHTER
given an invitation to a canned chicken din- ner by my men. Of conrse, I knew where it came from.
I was coming down the road one night with a load of barbed wire and pickets when I noticed a man who had a flash lantern in his hand. I did not know what the man wanted and stopped the lorry. "When I got down in the road I noticed that he was dressed in an officer's tmiform and saluted him. He wanted to know where we were bonnd for. The officer wished to go in the same direction and asked me to take him along, which I did. When we had started again he told me that he was the commanding officer of a Canadian pioneer battalion. I had been un- der the impression that I knew the man, but had been unable to recall who he was. Finally, I thought I had him placed, but was still not altogether sure. At any rate I told him that I had seen him before; just then I remembered that the last time we had met it had cost me $30. The officer looked at me in surprise as I mentioned this interesting fact, and I inquired whether he was not Magistrate Saunders of Calgary, Alberta. He said that 50
EUNNING THE GAUNTLET
he had filled such a p^osition at one time and that his name was Saunders. Then I told him who I was and I reminded him how on a certain occasion he had not allowed me to say anything for myself bnt had jnst tacked on the $30 fine for exceeding the speed limit with a motor car. We had a good langh and parted the best of friends.
Hanling material at night for the Engi- neers in a neighboring sector, we had to use a road on which several dispatch riders had been killed by a spy. It had been announced that two weeks' leave of absence in England wonld be given the man who eanght the spy, and of conrse everybody was on the lookout for him. Every nook and cranny in that part of the country had been searched, but nobody had been found. The only person ever seen near the road was a peasant plowing his fields.
About a week after that I met a sergeant of the police whom I knew well and he asked me to come with him next morning to head- quarters. I was there at six o^clock and at six-thirty that same peasant was marched out in the little square behind the chateau and
51
THE FLYING FIGHTER
Mindf olded. Sentence of death was then read to him and for the first time in my life I saw a firing sqnad march out. It was over soon. A bnllet through the heart put an end to the peasant and he was buried without ceremony as a traitor to France and the Allies.
The sight impressed me greatly and for the first time I realized fully what it meant to be a traitor. I went back to the ammunition dump a very thoughtful man, realizing how little a life mattered in this great strug- gle.
That afternoon, the weather being for once favorable, both sides sent up their captive balloons. I counted as many as twenty of them. Most of them were Germans. We had a few ourselves, but the Germans were better equipped in that respect. The aeroplanes also sailed about.
I envied the flyers. Here was I in mud up to my knees either in the trenches or on the roads and getting very little out of the war but lots of hard work. The other fellows were sailing around in the clean air while I had to duck shells all the time and run chances of being caught by the machine guns
52
EUNNING THE GAUNTLET
and snipers. Of course the aviators were also being shelled, bnt they never seemed to get hnrt. I had seen some of them hit trees and other obstacles upon landing or getting off the ground, bnt the game had always ap-. pealed to me strongly. To me flying seemed the very acme of adventnre and I had no notion, of conrse, how good the German anti- aircraft batteries were. Flying * * fish-hooks, ' * burning *^ onions," as we term a certain type of shell used by the Hun, and forced landings were things unknown to me. Of the cold above the clouds and the chances one took in having to land behind the German lines I had heard very little.
But I was willing to take a chance for all that, so long as I could get out of the mud and had an opportunity to stay indoors at night. The mechanical transport service was famous for mud and night work. I was so thoroughly sick of them both that I was will- ing to do anything to get away from them.
During the next few days I tried to gather information as to how I could get into the Eoyal Flying Corps. I got no satisfaction, however, for nobody seemed to know exactly
53
THE FLYING FIGHTEB
how so exclusive a circle could be invaded. Nevertheless, my ambition to get into the aviation service grew stronger each day, and each bit of information I could secure was welcome.
Christmas of 1915 came around, and every man at the front was looking forward to it on account of the presents and better food from home which the holiday season would bring. The officers of the unit were to give us a tur- key dinner. The day before Christmas we were paraded and each man received a pair of socks, a piece of good maple sugar, and three packs of cigarettes. From some other source we received a deck of cards and a small box of chocolate. Many of the boys also received Christmas boxes from home, but I was not one of them.
On the same afternoon I witnessed an event that to me really seemed worth while. Some Canadians were to be decorated by the French for deeds of valor. We were away north of the French lines, but that made no difference to the poilus, who also were to attend the ceremony. They came down in lorries just as they had left the trenches and
54
RUNNING THE GAUNTLET
they did not have a holiday appearance. There were about five hundred of them.
After the French soldiers had been lined up vrith bayonets fixed, the men to be decorated, twenty-eight in number, were marched into the square that had been formed. This done, some of our own troops marched up, headed by a band that was playing the Marseillaise. The enthusiasm was great. Those men had gone through every hardship one can imagine, and to see some of their comrades honored seemed to cheer them all. The poilus and our own men were not exactly a clean looking lot. There was an unwashed look about their be- whiskered faces and on the mud-covered gray coats could be seen many a blood-spot. But the men were as steady as rocks and pre- sented arms with a snap that was really inspiring.
As the British forces came to attention the French band struck up the Maple Leaf For- ever," and foUowed this by **01d Canada." Then the French and British generals shook hands, and later the French general pinned the decorations on the Canadians and kissed each of them on the cheek, wliile our kilted
55
THE FLYING FIGHTER
band played the march past. When it was all over the generals again sainted each other and the troops dispersed. The men who had been decorated did not seem to know what to do with themselves. Jnst then the gang who had watched it all rushed upon the poor unfortunates and carried them shoulder high to the nearest cafe.
It had been a most impressive affair. There is something in those French soldiers and even in the peasants that make one con- scious of the fact that the French are indeed a noble race. They were already beginning to feel the great strain of the war, and though they showed plainly that it was telling on them, they were bearing up wonderfully. I used to ask them whether they were anxious for peace ; always they said yes, but with the terms of ourselves and our allies — th^ terms of the victors. Otherwise they were willing to fight to the last and I think they have shown that spirit all the way through.
Christmas evening we had the turkey din- ner. Those who were in the front lines had theirs the next day. The front was quiet. At twelve o'clock on Christmas eve all 56
ETJNNING THE GAUNTLET
firing had ceased and only an occasional star shell reminded ns that night that war was still on. These shells are sent np to gnard against surprise attack. We -^rished one another all the good things of the season and Tve even included the Hxins, who were abont seventy-five yards away. They had hoisted np a placard over the parapet on which was inscribed the words Merry Christ- mas. It was a sight that touched the hearts of many of ns and one that we will not forget in a hurry.
We were a rather melancholy crew those days. Everybody's thought seemed to be very far from the trenches.
Somebody would shout :
* ' Hey, mate, what are you thinking about ? ' ^ and back would come the answer :
**Aw, shut up!"
Many of us would have given a great deal to be home that night, especially when at one o'clock in the morning the Christmas truce came to an end with the bark of the rifles.and the tut-tut-tut-tut of the machine guns. Soon the field artillery and the heavies" woke up again, and before long an intense bombard- 57
THE FLYING FIGHTER
ment of the sector was on. When daylight came the ambulances were bnsy carrying out the wounded and dying and many were buried on Christmas Day.
That afternoon I received two letters from home and two others from friends in Eng- land, which was really a big mail. I also re- ceived a very small box about the size of a jewelers' case and very neatly done up. I was curious to know what it contained, and upon opening it found Turkish cigarettes- lady size, or about the dimensions of a wooden match. They had been sent me by a lady with whom I had had tea in England and who had promised to send me cigarettes. I sat down and finished the lot, all of them making just one good smoke. I ended the day with a visit to a dugout where we had a game of poker, in which I won twelve dollars, which was a lot of money, seeing that our pay was only a franc, or twenty cents a day.
This meant that I had in my pockets a fair percentage of the company's pay-roll. I knew that I would have to loan out a consid- erable share of it before long and that very little of it would ever be paid back.
58
KUNNING THE GAUNTLET
With some of my winnings I managed to secure a bath, something which is pretty hard to get in Flanders, since the natives do not seem to bathe very often. In Flanders the bath is taken in a wooden tub in the kitchen, and one has to scont aronnd nntil some peas- ant woman is fonnd who is willing to rent her kitchen for that pnrpose. Taking a bath is quite an event in that part of Europe. I was once billeted in a peasant woman's house where nobody had taken a bath for seven months. The woman had the habit of wash- ing the children's faces in the same water in which she had washed the dishes. After that I took no chance on her cooking, and a partner of mine, Will Askey, and I took turns attend- ing to our food.
During our first months in France we had near us a Gurka or Indian regiment. And it was funny to see the little brown men in camp or in action. They were very interest- ing. The Gurkas eat a funny cake made by themselves of flour and water and you could walk into a Gurka camp most any time and see some of them squatting in a circle mak- ing their funny little biscuits of flour and
59
THE FLYING FIGHTER
water which, when cooked, had no taste what- ever.
They also drank a lot of coffee of the French kind, which is abont seventy-five per cent chickory and twenty-five per cent coffee, bnt it isn't bad to drink at that.
The Hnns had a wholesome fear of these little Gurkas, for they are wicked fighters, and they nsed to call them the little black devils.^' The Gurkas, when ordered over the top, climbed over the parapet, dropped their rifles and pnlled out their **kukries," a sort of heavy knife which is cnrved and looks for all the world like a hand-scythe for cutting corn.
This knife was carried in their mouths by the Gurkas, who, crawling up to the Hun lines on their stomachs, would bounce into the Hun trenches and without a word the silent slaughter would start. They would cut a Hun's throat, then cut off his ears as a keep- sake, and one can imagine the terror the Hun must have experienced when he saw those wicked little beady eyes full of murder look- ing at him.
When the Gurkas returned, they would take ' 60
RUNNING THE GAUNTLET
their German ears, dry them and string them around their necks as onr old North Ameri- can Indians hung scalp locks around their belts. And if a Gurka had to go to a hospital, you could take his clothes or anything else he had, but you could not touch the string of Hun ears he wore around his neck. All the Canadians ILked the Gurkas very much, for they were excellent fighters, and we all hated to see them taken away to another and warmer front where the climate was more suitable for them, and where it was easier to procure certain kinds of food which they could not get along without
I was still hoping that sooner or later I might get into the Royal Flying Corps, but the chances did not seem very good. I was still living in the mud and working chiefly at night for the reason that during the day German artiUery made all roads of approach to the position impossible. Neither the mud nor the night work looked good to me, but for the time being there seemed to be no get- ting away from them.
One night about six o'clock I received or- ders to report at an engineer's dump known 61
THE FLYING FIGHTER
as Hyde Park Corner. I was to bring two lorries which were to be loaded with barbed wire and steel pickets. At the dnmp I was told to proceed to R. E. Farm, the road to which took ns through a shell-torn village. On entering the village we had to leave the main road because that lay in full view of the enemy. At the other side of the village the road was re-entered at a point where there was a screen of sacking, on one side of which were painted in large letters the words: Danger! In full view of the enemy!"
About fifty feet from the screen an old woman used to keep a coffee wagon from which she sold refreshments to working par- ties who used to wait behind the screen until dark made it possible for them to get to the front
This particular night Fritz had a hunch that somebody was going to pass the place behind the screen. Just as I was approach- ing the coffee wagon the Huns began to send over shells and the third one landed right underneath the wagon and blew it, the lady, and the old horse into Kingdom Come.
62
EUNNING THE GAUNTLET
It was bad enough to have the old lady and the horse killed, but to lose that coffee stall and that cafe complet was really the worst of all. Cafe complet in this instance meant that a liberal shot of rum went into each cup of coffee.
We would have to do without that now, and the thought exasperated us. Fritz had been guilty of an unforgivable sin, as anyone would have concluded from the language that was used by the boys. In the meantime the shells were still coming and it seemed extremely risky to continue on the road, which was so narrow that only one truck at a time could pass over it. There was a side road, but that had three feet of mud on it, nor were we in- clined to run back three-quarters of a mile to get another road. The sentry near the screen let us pass, but I knew that the lorries would have to get up better speed if they were to cross the danger zone unhurt.
By means of a governor, the speed of the lorries was being limited to fifteen miles an hour. But we had discovered that if the ball in the governor was held up we could get as much as twenty-five miles out of the motor.
5 63
THE FLYING FIGHTER
I was heading the column and knew that if my lorry went faster the others would know what to do, so I climbed in front of the machine, lifted the hood and held up the ball in the gov- ernor. It did my heart good to see the speed the motor was giving the car now. The other drivers followed my example and before long we were tearing down the road with the shells falling all about us. We had gone another mile and a half towards the dump, when a small shell hit one of the armored front wheels of my lorry and blew it off. The lorry fell on its axle, but aside from being strained a little and having lost a wheel it suffered no damage. We managed to get a spare wheel and by midnight were on our way back to the camp.
CHAPTER VI
WOUNDED AGAIN
Five days later I had a like experience while carrying lumber to the front for the repair of a field dressing station about two hundred yards behind our lines. To get there exposed ground had to be traversed. There was a similar screen of sacking at that point, and the sentry who directed the traffic on the road did not want to let me pass. To lend force to his arguments he drew my attention to a nearby field, in which, though only about three hundred yards square, there were as many as 150 shell holes. As I was counting the holes, a heavy bang nearby showed me that some of our forces were stationed there, and then I knew why the Germans had dug up the field so well. They had been looking for this battery for some time and that accoxmted for the many shell craters.
I waited at the screen until it was nearly 65
THE FLYING FIGHTER
dark and then continued. My lorry had been seen, however. As I was taking it around a corner the Huns cut loose and caused me to go down that road as fast as the motor would take me. I had climbed through the head of the lorry and was lifting up the hood to release the governor, when I received so forceful a pxmch in the hips that I was al- most knocked off. We did not stop but went right on and upon arrival at the dressing sta- tion, about two miles from the point where I had been hit, the doctor picked a bullet out of my side. Fortunately, it was a spent bul- let and aside from having the wound steril- ized I needed little attention. In a few days I was back at work.
On that trip also I saw a mule hit on the head by a shell, which showed me what anni- hilation really meant, as it blew its head off.
Shortly after my return from the hospital Sergeant Arthur Montgomery Dyas and I started for the ruins of Ypres in the Canadian salient to get some furniture for a sergeant's mess. We got to the place without any trou- ble and found cover for the lorry in the lee of a blown-up building. It was a fine day and a
66
WOUNDED AGAIN
Hun Tauhe was sailing overhead. The British anti-aircraft batteries were concen- trating upon the airplane, with the result that a great deal of shrapnel began to fall around us. We had to get under cover, but anxious to see what would happen to Heinie aloft, we ventured out again. The British batteries were getting the bead on the Tauhe. In the blue sky around the aircraft shrapnel clouds were visible and gradually came closer to the machine. Of a sudden the flash of a shrapnel appeared directly under the machine, which seemed to come to a stop immediately, then broke in two and came hurtling to the ground. It hit the earth with a crashing sound.
I was still very much interested in mili- tary aviation, but for a moment I wondered whether, after all, that game was worth while.
The German batteries began to look for re- venge and very soon the battery that had brought down the Hun birdman received their close attention. The ruins of the town were not overlooked. Masonry, bricks and the fragments of shells filled the air, but the only casualty I noticed was a large rat that 67
THE FLYING FIGHTER
had made up its mind to cross the road. A piece of a shell hit the rat. It died then and there. Montgomery looked at me and I looked at him, and I guess both of us had the same thought: even a rat hadn't a chance in those parts.
After a while the bombardment ended, and then we started to hunt for furniture in the ruined houses. We found half a dozen chairs and a table with a leg blown off, a stove punc- tured by shrapnel, and some crockery, which we picked up in a cellar of a building that must have been a happy home when it still had all of its three stories and the winding stairway, of which only parts were in place.
I climbed to the top of the structure, and looked into the rooms, from which the roof and ceiling had been blown off by shells. The furniture was still in the rooms and clothing was strewn all over the floor. Everything had been spoiled by rain and the shells and was on the verge of falling apart, but for all that it was still evident that it had been occu- pied by people of wealth.
One of the rooms must have been that of a young lady. In a dresser I found a pink 68
WOUNDED AGAIN
evening gown and other articles of feminine apparel. I took it for granted that the owner of the dress was some beantiful girl, and I was still wondering what she might look like when Montgomery sneaked up the stairs and shouted to me to come down. I took the gown along and it was one of the treasures of the mess until I gave it to a peasant girL
On the next floor must have been the room of the old man. We found several pipes and a pair of slippers, and a torn night robe. Back of this room was a sort of conservatory; it had been a pretty place once, but was that no longer. All the glass was broken and the flower pots and boxes lay pell-mell on the floor, with every plant in them dead. We examined the rooms on the ground floor and found that Tommie had been there before us. In the kitchen we made a haul, however. We found there a lot of dishes, three cut glass fruit platters, two soup tureens, some silver knives and forks, and two kitchen chairs. Then we went to the wine cellar but not a drop did we find. A lot of empties gave evi- dence that somebody had had a good time in that cellar. On leaving the house I spied a
69
THE FLYING FIGHTER
book. It turned out to be the Old and New Testament in Dutch, and in it was a card which I took to be that of the young lady. The Bible I sent to an old church-going friend and the card I kept myself.
We were about to drive off when we heard a dull boom in the distance, and a few sec- onds later a big shell screeched over us and exploded a block away. There was no time to lose, but as we made off Montgomery and the boys sang a little song from the West :
*'He's a bold bad man and a desperado,
Blows into town like a big tornado; Steals all the money from the people in the land.
He's a curly wolf at shooting with a gun in either hand.''
The ruins of Ypres were a striking sight. It rather broke us up to see that beautiful and thrifty little town being flattened to the ground. There was an oppressive silence in the streets during the few moments when the detonation of guns and shells was not heard.
I looked at what had once been the famous 70
WOUNDED AGAIN
Cloth Hall. I had been told by some French people that it was one of the finest bnildings in France and Belgium, bnt now all its walls were hopelessly wrecked. The parts of the building that had not been blown np were so shaky that the concussion of nearby explod- ing shells wonld topple them over. There was no life in Ypres — ^nothing bnt rats, rats, and millions of them. I went into several honses which had been inhabited by people of wealth and everywhere met traces of the things which make for refinement — ^paintings, good fnrnitnre, and beantifnl candelabras. Everything had been wrecked by the Hun. Before long the big guns of the German bat- teries started and their shells again began to level Ypres, for which they seemed to hold a hatred.
Shortly after that I had some trouble with the commanding officer, with the result that I was transferred to headquarters as a motor cycle dispatch bearer. Motor cycling on a good road is a pleasure, but on wet cobble- stones and in the mud it is anything but that. It is impossible to go fast because that shakes the wheel all to pieces and is likely to break
71
THE FLYING FIGHTEE
your neck, and when yon go slow everybody grumbles. In a country such as Flanders, especially when the rainy spell is on, motor cycling keeps you covered with mud from head to foot, and dispatch riding is the very thing to keep you going day and night. Occa- sionally you run into a shell-hole in the dark and that means that your shins are always minus much of their bark. Another feature of dispatch riding is that you move con- stantly in zones where a shell may call you in at any moment.
But you aren't supposed -to think in the Army, as I discovered again, when I had used my own judgment on one little trip I made. I delivered my message, but on my way back I had gone out of my way to see a pal who was at a wireless station further up the line.
I was having a chat with my friend when the signal officer came up in his car and saw me. That was enough. On my return to the base I was placed under arrest. In the morn- ing a sergeant escorted me to the command- ing officer.
That personage wanted to know what I had been doing ten miles out of my route. I
72
WOUNDED AGAIN
told him that I had seen no harm in going to see my friend. The commanding officer could not see it that way. He led me to under- stand that he was the brains of the company and that I had no right to think at all — ^that I was there to ride. But I got even with him after I was made a commissioned officer.
A severe reprimand was all the punishment meted out to me. That same night I made a trip up to the lines and was going along at a fairly good speed when a scream and a crash about twenty-five yards ahead of me sud- denly halted my progress. The next thing I knew was that I was lying against the bank on the side of the road some fifteen feet away from the motor cycle. A pain in my left shoulder told me what part of my body had struck the earth first, and when I tried to move my neck that pain grew more intense. I began to spit blood. My head started to buzz.
I noticed that my goggles were missing and since I had to send to England for them, I was not anxious to lose them. I saw them about twenty feet ahead of me and, finding my legs unsteady, I rolled towards them.
73
THE FLYING FIGHTER
Before I reached them I fell flat twice. Shortly afterwards I was picked up and sent to the base hospital and from there to Eng- land.
Two months later I was back in France and attached to my old transport section. I f onnd that there was considerable unrest among the boys for the reason that all of them were try- ing to get commissions. By this time also I had made up my mind to get into the Flying Corps. Scott and Beatty, friends of mine, had the same ambition, while others of the sec- tion were trying for other branches of the service — Jimmie Brown and Bud Shore for the artillery, Alexander McCollough for the machine gun section, and Dyas and Copman for the infantry.
We secured the necessary transfer forms, filled them up and sent them in. Meanwhile we were trying to get information on the na- ture of an officer's work in the different units. We had made up our minds to take a more serious view of army life, but before I heard anything from my application I was back on the job hauling coal and ammunition. The chances of getting into the Flying Corps 74
WOUNDED AGAIN
seemed very remote. They seemed even re- moter when on the first morning at the dumps behind the line a shell carried off poor old McConnell. A steel fragment went through his head. Poor Montgomery was severely wounded in the side and though he recov- ered he was never fit for service after that.
Three days later a Hun plane bombed the railhead. It dropped six bombs, but only two of them exploded. But the two did their work, killing five women and two children and a police sergeant and his -horse. I looked up at the plane and wished that I could get at it for a few miiiutes. The anti-aircraft guns were working hard to down the machine, but did not touch it at all.
While in this sector, I saw lots of atrocities committed by the Germans. Although I could hardly believe all the stories I heard about them, there was no vestige of doubt left in my mind after seeing with my own eyes what the Huns were capable of doing.
I was driving up the road one afternoon about four o'clock. The sky was clouded and n^iade the devastated country look all the more lonesome. Though ten miles behind the lines,
75
THE FLYING FIGHTER
the guns could be heard plainly and I felt lonely and homesick.
Beyond the little hill I spied a low red building with a cross in front of it, which I took to be a convent. Not being in a hurry, I thought 'that I would call on the French Fathers. They are always very interesting and knowing their language and customs I felt quite at ease with them.
In response to my knock at the door, a sis- ter appeared. She asked me to come in and sent for one of the fathers. He was a white- haired old man and dressed in a long black robe with a heavy leather belt around his waist. A large crucifix was suspended from his neck.
We began to talk of the war and he told me of a lot of horrors he had seen — of children murdered by the Germans when they came to Belgium, of women outraged, and priests tor- tured for helping the Belgian soldiers. Then he took me to see the little convent and there I saw sights which still haunt me.
We came to a little chapel where nine little boys were kneeling. Looking at them I found that not one of them had his right hand. All
76
WOUNDED AGAIN
were nnder twelve years old and the young- est was four. The little chap kept his right arm behind his back. It made the blood run cold in my veins and I thought of the chil- dren at home. I wanted some sort of revenge on the Huns.
One of the women in the chapel, the father told me, spent most of her time praying. Her little son had been killed and her daughter, a girl of seventeen years of age, had been taken away by the Huns.
Later I met many mothers to whom the same thing had happened. I also saw some women whose breasts and ears had been cut off. They had been tortured in the most cruel ways imaginable. When taking leave of the old father, I gave him all the money I had on me, forty francs, for which he thanked me. He also presented me with a little medal of the Virgin Mary and blessed me.
I went away with a heavy heart. The medal I added to my collection. My mother had given me a similar medal as had also my sister. An old priest who used to labor in the little Indian village on the Sarcee Eeservation, back home in Canada, had also
77
THE FLYING FIGHTEE
given me one. I had f onr of them now, and carried them strung together with a safety- pin, safely stowed away in my pocket.
On arriving in camp I was greeted by the sergeant-major with a torrent of bad lan- guage, and the order that I proceed immedi- ately with my convoy to S., with the seven loads of ammunition that I was to unload and then return to the railhead. S. was a little place about a mile behind our first line, and known for the big shells the Huns used to put into it in their effort to blow up the ammu- nition dump.
I had been shelled there on a previous occa- sion and had just turned into the dump, where the mud was hub deep, when the shells started to fall. On one side of the road was a shed where the working parties detailed to help unload ammunition were sheltered from the weather. The first shell to-day fell into this shed, killing fourteen of the men. I blew my whistle as a signal for my men to take to cover. This they did by leaving their seats and getting under the lorries. We stayed there for two hours, with a shell coming every five minutes, which gave us ample time to
78
WOUNDED AGAIN
work our way into the ditch along the main road. While the body of the lorries gave some protection, there is no telling what wonld have happened had one of the German shells hit a lorry loaded with ammunition or the depot itself. As luck would have it, however, the shells fell everywhere but in the dump; so we thanked our stars, and when the bombard- ment was over unloaded the vehicles in record time. We had lost some time and went to the railhead at a good speed, where I was informed that the commanding officer wanted to see me.
6
CHAPTER yil
JOINING THE FLYING CORPS
I HAD visions of more trouble on report- ing, but I was told by the officer that I was to fill out my papers for the Flying Corps, and that he would recommend my transfer to that branch of service. I could have kissed him right then and there so glad was I to have his consent and recommendation. I walked and rode eight miles up the lines to iind a doctor I knew. He was at a field dress- ing station, but I was determined to reach him. One of the road sentries challenged me and I was told that he could not allow me to pass because a raid was on. I walked back and when out of sight of the picket cut across the fields on my hands and knees and in that manner got beyond him. I was taking a chance of being shot for disobeying the picket's orders, but I had to see the doctor that night.
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JOINING THE FLYING COEPS
I had not gone fifty yards when I heard ^'Haltl Who goes there r'
Since I had not seen anybody, the order was a shock to me. I nearly dropped from fright and answered in a weak little voice: ^*Friend."
The picket made me advance and now I conld see his bayonet glisten in the moon- light. He wanted to know what I was doing there. Bnt instead of taking a sympathetic view of it he began to cnrse me in the round- est of terms. He was a reasonable per- son, however, for after a little while he per- mitted me to go on. It so happened that I knew several men in his battalion and that seemed to remove all donbt from his mind that I was everything that I claimed to be.
After much hunting I f onnd the field dress- ing-station, bnt the doctor was busy at the time dressing wonnds.
One of the wonnded men was a Jock,'' or a Scotchman, who had been hit in the leg. The sergeant pnt a cigarette in his month and lit it ; then he opened the man's coat and shirt and with a syringe as big as they nse on
81
THE FLYING FIGHTER
horses he inoculated the "Jock" against tet- anus poisoning, saying:
*'Jock, I'll give yon a hundred francs for that blighty/' But the Scotchman replied:
*'Ah, mon! it's worth that much for the thought of Scotland, and the blighty is worth it ten times. Why, I laid me doon in a shell hole in No Man's Land and put that foot up in the air and I waited for a hoor and a half before the bullet hit me. No, not for a thou- sand francs this blighty."
Another poor chap had a leg shattered, which had to be amputated, and no one offered him anything for that. But the doctor was very tender with him and soon he was on his way to the base whence he would be sent to England.
At about one o'clock in the morning the doctor was through and then I went to his dugout.
He seemed glad to see me. As he grabbed me he shouted :
**Why, you flea-bitten, horse-riding, buck- jumping old son-of-a-gun, how in the
are you?"
The doctor had a little cache in his dugout 82
JOINING THE FLYING CORPS
and out of that lie took a bottle that contained something stronger than water. Then I told him what I had come for. I had known the doctor in the United States and he had not forgotten old times despite the fact that he was a Major. He looked at me quizzically after I had stated the nature of my errand, and said :
*^I ought to examine your head. I am sure that you are plumb locoed. I won't sign your papers for the Flying Corps, for I think that you are close enough to death here.''
We argued the point for a few minutes and then he signed them, nevertheless. I left the doctor with a promise that I would write to him and let him know how I got along.
That was not all the signing that had to be done. Somebody had to attest my character ; another my mechanical knowledge and educa- tion. I thought that a friend of mine of the name of Starrett could attest to the latter, but he did not seem inclined to sign the paper. But after talking to him until I was blue in the face, he did as requested, and then I started back for my unit with his good luck wishes.
83
THE FLYING FIGHTER
I arrived in camp at seven o'clock in the morning.
The day for which I had been hoping so long had finally come, so that, despite the ex- ertions of the night, I felt in fine fettle. After cleaning np I went to the commanding officer and handed him the papers, now pro- vided with the necessary signatures. A little later I had the consent of the Division Gen- eral, and on the afternoon of the following day I reported to an air squadron for my mechanical examination.
A week later I was attached to a squadron as gunner on probation, and there the game began.
I was not yet an aviator. The command- ing officer of the squadron told me that I would have to take a turn in the trenches for a week or so to learn what infantrymen had to go through. After that I was to do a week in the artillery, and still later I would have a week in the squadron school. After that he sent me to a battery then in the first line. There I was turned over to the Quartermaster to be fitted out with the necessaries for trench warfare, which consisted principally of a web
84
JOINING THE FLYING COEPS
equipment for carrying everything one needs in a trench, pockets for anunnnition, trench- ing tool, tia hat, mess Ht, and gas helmet. The load was heavy enough for any pack mnle. I had not joined the army to take the role of that animal, but it was my first step to escap- ing into the Flying Corps, and I wonld have gone through an ordeal ten times as bad to attain that end.
I reported at Headquarters at W. P., and from there I was taken into the front lines, and withia a week I saw more soldiering than had been my lot since coming to France. I was given into the charge of the company commander, whose nnit was just then on duty in the first-line trenches. The same night part of that company went out on a raid and I was one of them. We sneaked into No Man's Land and over to the Hun wire.
I had never received special training in that line of work, but I watched the others and did likewise. I had been equipped with a gun bayonet and knew how to throw a bomb.
The covering party was ahead of us, but before long we also were near the Hun wire. Just then a star shell went up and we aU
85
THE FLYING FIGHTER
dropped on our stomachs. I was frightened to death as the machine guns started to work and mud and small stones began to fly all around us. And it seemed that all the ma- chine guns in the Hun army were turned on me. The steel helmet began to hurt my head, for I was not used to it. The wet ground added to my discomfort, and I wished myself back in the old transport section. The wait on the wet grounds seemed intermi- nable, but suddenly a number of explosions near by made me stop thinking entirely and the chap next to me whispered into my ears :
Come on, boy ! the covering party is bomb- ing them.''
We rushed over to the wire and I tore my- self considerably getting through the en- tanglement. It was the first time that I had attempted so risky a business. But I seemed to have managed it well enough, for pres- ently I stood on a German parapet.
I halted there for a moment and then see- ing the other men inside the trenches I jumped in, landing in the bay back of a traverse all alone.
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JOINING THE FLYING CORPS
From near by came voices speaking Ger- man. I stood stock still for a minnte. Shonts came and I knew that some of our fellows were mixing it with the enemy. The noise came from the left and seemed to be coming nearer.
The only thing that occurred to me then was to move towards the scene of the action. Just as I was ronnding the corner of the traverse I came face to face with a Hnn who was com- ing out of a dugout. For a moment the man stopped and then, muttering something about British swine, he started for me. I lunged with rifle and bayonet as hard as I could right for his stomach. The man fell back with a yell and would have pulled me into the dug- out with him if I had not let go of the rifle. From behind I heard steps approaching. I took one of my hand grenades, pulled the pin, and was about to throw it at the forms which loomed in the dark, when I recognized the first one of them as the company commander. He said, "Come on, we've been here too long," and I thought of how much longer he would have stayed, if I had thrown the bomb. He was just coming around the corner of a 87
THE FLYING FIGHTER
bay in the trench, and behind him -v^as a gang of Huns.
So far as we knew there were only two of ns, and to judge by the noise they were mak- ing the Germans were coming in force. There was nothing to do but retreat, and with that in view we got over the top as quickly as pos- sible, and started for our own trenches.
The whole action had taken place within about thirty minutes, but I was so excited over sticking the Hun that it seemed much longer. However, the exhilaration of my ex- ploit soon left me when the boys told me that one of them, during a previous raid, had stuck thirty Germans. After that I felt that my one was not much. But I have seen that Hun fall back into his dugout a thousand times since then.
I learned that we had captured fifteen pris- oners who were of the 227th Bavarians. They were sent back to headquarters to be exam- ined, and were later taken to a prison camp in France or England.
One of the Germans spoke good Eng- lish and I talked with him. He had lived in America until six months before the war, and
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JOINING THE FLYING COEPS
had worked in a butcher shop in Chicago. He wished that he was back there now.
I spent a part of that night toasting my shins in a dugout, drinking tea and eating bread with tinned Nova Scotian butter on it. After that I had a sound sleep, which was all too short, for early in the morning I had to join a party that was to bring out rations.
I was doing real soldiering now and had many a thrill. In the same afternoon I was going through a section of the trench when a shell from a German trench mortar landed in it and knocked in its wall. At the same spot our company commander, Captain EenviUe, was killed by a sniper shortly afterward. The company Sergeant-Major was the first to see him. The officer was still breathing but unconscious, and the Sergeant-Major yelled for stretcher-bearers on the double quick. The bearers ran up and we placed Captain Eenville on the stretcher as carefully as we could. He was then taken to a dressing or first-aid station.
The occurrence made a deep impression upon us. The captain was a very fine man, and we regretted his misfortune. I was tum-
89
THE FLYING FIGHTER
ing things over in my mind when I heard somebody behind me sob. Turning around I saw the Sergeant-Major in tears, and that caused me to cry myself. I had only known the captain for three days, but I had learned to like him very much. To the rest of the company the officer had been a brother and a leader.
We learned that night that Captain Ren- ville had died, and this increased our sorrow. The men sat around gloomily, and the silence was only broken by solemn vows of future re- venge. The resolutions that were heard would have put the fear of God into the Hun who fired the shot had he heard them. I guess that a lot of these vows were carried out. I wished to comfort the boys, but, you see, they wanted to be left alone to mourn their loss. It was not until the day before I left that any of them spoke much, outside of taking and giving orders. Some of us went to the funeral of Captain Renville, and there I felt as bad as if I had lost my own brother.
The scenes of the death and burial of Cap- tain Renville were before my eyes most viv- idly all that day. I could still hear the bugle
90
JOINING THE FLYING CORPS
sound the last post, and though I had heard it on several occasions before, and had lis- tened to the last salute of the firing party, it seemed to make my blood run colder to-day than ever before. These honors meant recog- nition of the fact that a man had sacrificed* all for King and Country. It was not my King nor was it my country, so I wanted my coun- try's emblem with me when I died; for I never expected to get out of this mess alive. I always carried a large American flag with me for that purpose. Later, when I had be- come an officer, I hung it up in my hut. An Englishman came in one night and made rather caustic remarks about the U. S. A. Well, so far as that went, American men could take care of themselves, and when I told him we had once whipped England he grew angry and we mixed it. I gave him a black eye, and he came back and apologized to me in the morning.
I stayed the rest of the week in the trenches and had a number of unusual experiences. One day a Tommie with whom I had grown chummy, and who was trying to get into the Flying Corps, took me to an old trench from 91
THE FLYING FIGHTER
which the retaining boards had been removed. He wanted to show me some German dead who had been buried in the bottom of the trench. There was hardly anything left except grin- ning skulls, but what impressed me most was the fact that their boots were still on their feet; I thought of the old saying: '*He died with his boots on.^'
Then the man told me a story of two Irish- men to whom had been issued some of the bad boots that were sold to the British Gov- ernment in the early days of the war. Some of these boots lasted three hours. As soon as they got wet, the soles, which were made of ground cork and glue pressed together, fell away and after that the man was bare- footed.
The Irishmen, having no soles on their boots, decided to get a pair of the kind issued to the Hun soldiers. They asked the com- pany commander if they could go out on pa- trol that night. The officer looked at them somewhat puzzled, and asked why they wanted to take such long chances on their necks.
Patrick answered that he wanted a pair of 92
JOINING THE FLYING CORPS
Hun boots. The company commander laughed, and finally gave his consent.
That night the two went out separately, and when they got back into their own trench Pat said to Mike :
**Well, Mike, how did yon make ontf "
**Fine," said Mike; *Hhe first one I killed had boots of my size."
With that he showed Pat the boots, asking at the same time: '*And how did you make outf"
Very badly,'' replied Pat ; *'I killed twelve of them, and not one of them had boots that would fit me."
**What size do you wear?" asked Mike. Eleven, "said Pat.
**Well, begorra! It's not boots you want; it's the box they come in."
An Irish argument ensued and Pat was sent to the Quartermaster for a new pair of boots.
A few nights before I returned to Squad- ron Headquarters, I was sent into No Man's Land as a member of a working party that was to put in some new barbed wire and pick- ets. We carried the material through a sap which ran underneath our own wires, and
93
THE FLYING FIGHTER
when we got out of the sap we all felt as big as a house, and we were sure that the Huns would see us.
I could not imagine how they could miss me. Our conversation was in whispers, and that added considerably to that tired feeling. I suffered from nervous shock every time the mauls descended upon a picket. We worked fast and furiously, and I had lost much of my nervousness when somebody near me whis- pered :
Get down! Get down!''
We all laid down right where we were and waited. The working party is protected by the patrol, and that patrol had warned us. We waited until we got another call that everything was clear and went to work again. After that every time a maul hit a post it sounded to me like a 12-inch gun. Presently the Huns started to send up star shells for the purpose of finding where the noise came from. By that time we were down again, of course. But the enemy took a chance with their machine guns in the direction from which the noise had come. The bullets went to one side of us, however. The firing did not
94
JOINING THE FLYING CORPS
last long, and then we resumed onr labor ; but I heaved a sigh of relief when we were through with the job, and we were back in the second-line dugout with a kettle full of tea and some chuck.
Two days later I was called in by the com- manding officer and ordered to return to my unit. His report of me, he said, he would send in by telephone. I surrendered my equip- ment, said good-bye to the boys I had met, and started for Squadron Headquarters. I had gone about two miles on my way back when I passed something that resembled a house. Part of the chimney was shot off, and the windows were all broken. The ruin was similar to many others one could find around that part of the country.
Of a sudden the front of the structure slid to one side and a roar like a clap of thunder came out of it. Then followed a burst of smoke and a glimpse of the long, great barrel of a heavy gun settling on the recoil, and then the front of the house slid back — camouflage. For some minutes there was an awful ringing in my ears, and I had to hunt for my cap, which had been blown off my head. I found 7 95
THE FLYING FIGHTER
it under the leafless branches of a tree across the road, and near it were the bodies of f onr small birds which had been killed by the con- <;iission.
CHAPTER VIII
MY FIEST FLIGHT
IJpoiT my arrival at sqnadron headquarters I reported to the commanding officer, who called in one of the flight commanders. The two of them discussed for a while as to what pilot was to take me up on a trial trip, and when this serious business had been disposed of, I was sent to the quartermaster of the aerodrome to be fitted out with the requisites of the flyer. These consist of a helmet, leather coat, fur gloves, and goggles.
The pilot with whom I was to fly told me to take the front seat of the machine and strap myself in. While I was attending to that my nerves seemed a little bit unruly. The mo- ment for which I had hoped so much was come at last, but my sensations were not ex- actly what I had imagined they would be.
As I fastened each strap around me the risks of aviation became more real. Though
97
THE FLYING FIGHTER
I had often dwelt on the fact that there are no landing places in the air, the straps brought to me full realization that whatever happened to the airplane would happen to me. There was no getting away from the machine in case something went wrong.
But there was no time for philosophizing. The pilot took his seat behind me, strapped himself in, tested various levers and contriv- ances ; in the meantime somebody started the motor of the plane running.
I noticed that several men were holding the machine back until the propeller should have gained the speed necessary *to give us a good start across the field.
I do not remember whether the pilot gave the signal that he was ready by word or by a gesture. Anyway, of a sudden the machine started to move, began to *Haxi'^ across the field, and gained momentum with each in- stant.
It is hard to describe the sensation I had when the kite was finally in motion. I re- member that the pilot opened the engine out and that the earth seemed to roll from under us, though the bumping of the wheels on the
98
MY FIRST FLIGHT
ground reminded me that we were still ^ taxi- ing.''
Of a sudden the bnmping ceased and we seemed suspended in mid-air. But the wheels hit some other high places, showing that as yet we were not ofE the ground. Once more the machine was being supported on its wings. I hoped that the wheels would touch ground again, but hoped in vain.
The motor was speeding up now and the peculiar swaying motion of the machine left no doubt in my mind that we had left the ground for good.
I noticed that the airplane was flying stead- ily enough, but for all that I felt the uneasi- ness which is experienced by the person who is at sea for the first time. The slightest de- parture of the machine from its horizontal course threatened to upset my stomach.
But before long interest in the things un- derneath me overcame that sensation. The earth was receding in the most peculiar man- ner. I told myself that we were going up, but still the idea that remained uppermost in my miad was that the earth was dropping away from us.
99
THE FLYING FIGHTER
We began to climb up and np. I was be- ginning to enjoy this when of a sndden the engine stopped. My heart went into my month. And I said to myself, * Willie, yon 're a dead one/ I expected to fall. But the ma- chine continned on an evel keel, and from back of me came two sharp raps. Then I was snre I was gone.
I looked aronnd and saw the pilot smiling. He was saying something which I had great difi&cnlty in understanding. Bnt from his lips I read the question:
*'How do yon like it?"
I replied that I liked it well enongh, and judged from the searching look in the eyes behind the goggles that the pilot was very much interested in ascertaining the state of my nerves. The result of his scrutiny must have been satisfactory to him, for presently he began to point out the objects on the ground, which was now far below us. We were then some eight thousand feet above the ground.
The pilot drew my attention to lines on the ground — ^mere pencil marks — ^and he told me that these were the trenches and communica- 100
MY FIEST FLIGHT
tion ditches, and I thonglit how much safer the boys in the trenches were, even with the mnd and rats. The lines stretched out as far as the eye conld reach, and were parallel in^ the main, though here and there they diverged a little to come closer to one another at some other place. Over and near the lines wide^ puffs of smoke appeared. They were caused by exploding shells. I began to listen for the- detonations, but the noise of the motor made it impossible for me to hear anything else.
So long as the puffs of smoke stayed near the ground and the trenches, all was well, I concluded. But I remembered the Hun avia- tor's fate at Ypres, and wondered how long it would be before those beautiful little smoke puffs would come nearer to us.
While I was still wondering a flash ahead of us rent the air. It was yellow and intense. The next moment a round powder puff took its place, and from this began to curl in all di^ xections smoke ribbons which the fragments of the exploding shell were drawing after them.
I looked around at the pilot. He said noth- ing, but held up two warning fingers, while 101
THE FLYING FIGHTER
over his face went an expression of disdain.
Four other shrapnel shells exploded near US, and there was now no doubt in my mind that "Archie" was very busy with his anti- aircraft battery.
The Hun aircraft batteries, however, did not seem to be as greatly interested in us as they might have been, and after a while their efforts to bring us down ceased.
I was once more able to watch things be- neath us. The earth looked flat now. Hill and dale had disappeared. We sailed over a forest and I found that it looked like a lawn. Only its darker green separated it from the remainder of the landscape. The farmhouses were the size of a match box and the fields around them seemed parts of a checkerboard. Men could not be seen at all. Two little towns over which we flew looked about a foot square.
I was enjoying this very much when of a sudden the engine stopped once more. Some- how I had learned to look upon that motor as something human, and I found myself uncon- sciously appealing to it to start again. I knew, of course, that the machine could vol- plane— ^glide — ^to earth, but I was not so sure 102
MY FIRST FLIGHT
that this particular pilot, despite his great reputation, was really the man to bring me safely back to earth.
The list of the machine forward made an- other severe attack npon my nerves. I sur- mised that the pilot intended to glide. What I feared most, however, was that he might at- tempt to do some of the fancy tricks aviators are fond of, especially when they have novices aboard. There might be somersaults, just plain or corkscrew fashion, and I was quite sure that anything of the sort would be too much for me.
But this did not seem to be the intention of the pilot. I had hardly found comfort in that thought when I noticed that the speed of the machine was now so terrific that the wire stays began to scream and whistle. The sen- sation of great speed overwhelmed me. Everything began to revolve about me, and I had to keep my eyes off the earth in order not to grow sick. It was not the motion of the machine alone that caused this sensation, but the great speed at which the earth seemed to be coming up to meet us.
Minutes seemed hours long, and with each 103
THE FLYING FIGHTER
second my prayers that this would soon be over grew more fervent. I was suffering all the tortures man ever imagined.
Of a sudden the machine lurched. The in- creased pressure against the plane could be felt by a tautness that went over every part of it, my own body and mind included. The next moment I noticed that the wire stays were no longer singing, and then, to my great surprise, I noticed that we were directly above the aerodrome.
The realization that this trip would soon be over was a great relief. But another fear seized me. We were not far from the ground now, but were still going at such a speed that the machine coming in contact with the ground would certainly be smashed; so, at least, I thought.
That was not the case, however, though the bounce we got when the wheels first touched showed me that it was indeed well to be strapped into the seat. The strain of my body against the leather was such that the straps creaked, and I would have been catapulted out of the machine had it not been for the safeguarding strap.
104
MY FIEST FLIGHT
After the first bounce the machine traveled another short distance on its planes, hit the ground once more, rose again, and then taxied np to the shed.
I unstrapped myself and then climbed out of the machine. I was glad to be once more on solid ground even though it did heave a bit.
The impression that my first flight made upon me was shown by a dream I had that night. I dreamed that I was up in the air higher than anybody had ever been before, and that the machine suddenly broke up into small parts. I was plunging down trying to catch these parts and was just about to hit the ground when I discovered that I was on the floor near my bunk.
Next morning I learned that the Hun shrap- nel had not been as innocuous as I had imag- ined. There were several holes in the planes of the machine which must have been made by the contents of the shell which exploded be- hind us, and which I could not see from my seat in front. But old Archie'' had been a little off-color in his shooting, as he generally is.
I was discussing our trip with the pilot who 105
THE FLYING FIGHTER
4iad taken me up, Lieut. R , when an or- derly came out and told me that I was to re- port at headquarters. There I was told that I was to be sent to a battery of sixty-pounders to learn what I could about artillery.
The next stage in my training as aviator was accomplished in that battery.
Much of my life, while attached to the bat- tery, I spent in a dugout, which was com- fortable enough; besides, the bugs had been trained to leave strangers alone — so, at least, the Sergeant-Major said. But in that, as in other things, he was mistaken. The insects took a violent liking to me and inside of three days I had the finest collection of them the battery could boast of.
I made the acquaintance of a new sport while with the battery. A saucer server for an arena. Into this one puts a kootie and a flea. A vicious fight results and on the out- come of that the boys bet. The combat gen- erally ends in favor of the flea.
During the third night of my stay with the battery, about eleven o'clock, I was awak- ened by a heavy explosion. I started to my feet, but before I could find myself another 106
MY FIEST FLIGHT
explosion came* I made for the surface and just as I reached there another bang close by shook me off my feet. In my hnrry to get back into the dngont I missed the first step and landed unceremoniously at the bottom. I flew through the sacking which serves as a door and lit on one of the gunners who slept in the corner of the dugout.
The man was so used to night bombard- ments that he did not mind the noise of the shells. But he thought differently of the dis- turbance I was causing. His flow of language was very sulphurous and included a peremp- tory command that I shut the door. He opined that it was a shame to send a ^*mutt" like me down to a battery to create trouble and attract gun fire to a gang of peaceful gunners.
The battery was shelled for three nights running and I was blamed for it. Before my arrival the battery had been living peacefully enough, they said, and while they granted that I had made no deal mth the Germans, they still insisted that I was a Jonah. Whereupon I returned to my little two by twice comer and went to sleep.
107
THE FLYING FIGHTER
I was put to work, however. I assisted in loading one of the big guns and as a special favor I was permitted to yank the lanyard a couple of times. Then they tried to explain sighting to me. I heard lengthy expositions of errors in elevation and the like, and some- body said a great deal in explanation of load- ing, relaying, fire and what not before I left.
I also learned that the fire was being di- rected from the ground from what the battery commander called the 0. P., or observation post. He sent me up to that post with one of the spotters. We reached it on our hands and knees and found that its site was an old tree stump to which a telephone line had been laid. From that spot the observation man directed the fire by means of a telephone. His work consisted of telephoning to the battery com- mander whether the fire was short or high, or fell to the side of the object aimed at.
The language of the observation post was Chinese to me at first. I could not make out what they meant by '*No. 1 gun, two minutes, five degrees right.''
After that No. 2 gun would take a whirl at it as the next correction indicated. That cor- 108
MY FIEST FLIGHT
rection might be: "No. 2 gun, one minnte, eight degrees far/'
It was all Dutch to me, but it was interest- ing to watch it. I afterwards found out that the fire spotter sometimes worked in con- nection with airplanes when shrapnel was be- ing used, the duties of the ground observer in that case being to determine the height at which the shrapnel was exploding. The aer- ial observer also had to report on the effect of the fire. Nobody had explained to me so far why I had been attached to the battery and nobody ever did, but I surmised they wanted me to get up some acquaintance with artillery practice. Some day no doubt, if I live long enough, I would have to spot shrapnel while on the wing, and my apprenticeship with ar- tillery would then have some value.
To observe artillery fire from above was the very thing I wanted to do, and I made up my mind that the corrections I sent down should be as accurate as possible. With that in mind I absorbed as much of artillery tech- nique as I could. I was anxious to get back to the Flying Squadron in the hope that I would get another flight right away. On ar- 109
THE FLYING FIGHTER
riving at headquarters I had the satisfaction of being told by the conimanding officer of the squadron that I was doing fine; but to this remark he added that I was to keep it up and then sometime or other I might be a real bird- man.
The next week I spent in learning a great deal about the Lewis gun. I was taken to a range and taught how to use it, how to rem- edy its jams, change broken cartridge guide springs, and apply the immediate action on an empty drum.
The gun I was handling had all the defects which I might have to overcome in the air, and I will say that my course on the range was very thorough. Later, I learned how to fix the ''double feed jam," change extrac- tors, regulate the action of the bolt and do the many other things one has to know in order to keep a machine gun running.
I put in a very busy week, especially since in addition to my study of the Lewis gun I had to continue artillery observation prac- tice. I discovered that spotting artillery fire while moving about on an airplane was not so simple as I had imagined. The things I 110
MY FIRST FLIGHT
was supposed to learn were piling np rapidly, moreover. By the end of the week I had also been introdnced to wireless telegraphy. I worked fourteen honrs each day.
8
CHAPTER IX
MY FIRST HUU
The next trip I made aloft was made as gtmner in a fighting airplane. We were on patrol for three hours, and I had a busy time of it trying to keep my mind on the gun and flying at the same time. On my next trip I spent a hundred rounds from a Lewis gun at a target and the same day I was sent as gunner* on another patrol.
We had been up for an hour, when the pilot spotted a Hun battery and gave its direction to some of our guns. We were then about six miles behind the German line. All went well for a time until I saw another machine at about our own level, to which I called my pilot's attention. Though the other craft was at least a mile away the pilot recognized it immediately as a Hun. He began to tap out something on the wireless key which, as I afterwards learned, was a message to the 112
MY FIEST HUN
battery with wMch we were working to cease firing. The hostile machine was also an ob- server and the flash from our guns would have shown its pilot where our battery was located.
The thought that there was a Hun in the air and that we might have to meet him gave me a nervous thrill since I somewhat doubted my ability to handle a machine gun. The man in the other machine might be much more proficient than I; and, while I had broken bottles on the range, fired on the outline of a Hun plane on the ground for practice, and done other trial stunts, I had never before tried issues with a real live Hun.
But I found a great deal of comfort in the fact that my pilot was a good man (he had been decorated for bravery) and I made up my mind that I was not going to disappoint him. He had shown that he had faith in me, and for that reason I had myself well in hand when the German machine came nearer to us.
But it was not our business to fight down the hostile machine. We were observers. It was rather risky, moreover, to take up a fight 113
THE FLYING FIGHTER
with a Hiin above his own territory, where a forced landing would have resulted in our being made prisoners of war. Consequently we started for home, but Fritz saw fit to fol- low us.
We were over No Man^s Land when finally we turned on him, and I got ready to work the machine gun. I knelt down in the seat and when we were close enough the pilot turned around and gave me the signal to fire. But the Hun was miles past, and I wondered if the pilot thought that I was the champion trap shot of the world. There were no syn- chronized machine guns in those days, and to shoot through the propeller meant of course that there would be a sudden landing since the bullets would splinter its blades to pieces. We came alongside of each other and I had put a drum of cartridges in the gun and was in the act of aiming at the Hun ma- chine when something hit a strut alongside of my head. A glance in the direction of the strut showed me that a bullet had gone through. Quick as a wink I pulled the trigger and the little gun began to jump and bounce about on its mounting.
114
MY FIRST HUN
What the effect of my fire would be I was anxions to know. The racket made by the machine gnn was deafening, and since its mnzzle was directly above my pilot the man had to cronch down into the cockpit. Bnt he, too, was interested in seeing what I was doing and after a few moments he sat np again.
I was shaking with excitement by now. The machine gun was spitting bullets at a fast rate, but on the Hun plane everything re- mained in order. The two machines were keeping to a parallel course and I was begin- ning to fear that my aim was too poor to bring down our opponents, who were meanwhile keeping up their fire.
Of a sudden the enemy machine lurched forward. Then something detached itself from it. It was the form of a falling man.
My excitement reached its height. My aim had been good after all. As I saw the body speed towards the ground, turning over and over again, a sensation of sickness seized me. So intense was this that I hoped the next enemy would get me in order that I might not have to go through this agony again. 115
THE FLYING FIGHTER
Meanwhile the pilot had seen the falling Hnn. There was a smile on his face as he shouted :
*^Danm good!"
The Hun machine had curved back to the rear of its own line and we also made a turn during which we ascertained that the man had fallen inside of his own lines, having hit the ground behind the reserve posi- tion.
Something had gone wrong with the Hun machine, however. After a while it began to volplane rapidly; finally, it hit the ground with such force that the wings left the body of the machine.
While I was taking the empty ammunition drum from the machine, the pilot sent some- thing over the wireless and before long our battery was at work again.
When our period of patrol was over we went home and made a good landing. The other men crowded around us. They had seen the fight and were eager to shake hands with us. I pretended not to be excited, but I wanted to get up and shout to the world that I had brought down a Hun in the air, and 116
MY FIRST HUN
assisted the pilot looking over the machine to find what damage the Hun machine gnnner had done to it. We found that he had eight hits to his credit. A ninth bullet had gone through the pilot's leather coat at tho shoulder.
The commandiog officer of the squadron also congratulated both of us.
I confess that I was rather pleased with myself, and at the mess that night my brother sergeants contributed not a little to that feel- ing. One of them, however, a Cockney, pro- ceeded promptly to take some of the conceit out of me.
'*Ay, mytes, look at that bloke! 'e don't 'alf fauncy 'isself, cause 'e pitched down a bloomin' 'un," he remarked, laughingly.
Since he had not done even that much, I could not see why he should put in his jaw, and so I came back at him with, ' ' Well, I don 't see any medals on you for anything you ever did.'' He lost his temper, but the rest of the boys soon brought him to his senses.
It was not long before some of the other sergeants made me feel that they did not like me any too well. Several of them remarked 117
THE FLYING FIGHTER
that I was a Yankee, and the way of saying it was uncomplimentary. Finally the Ser- geant-Major put a stop to the argument, but before he did this I learned that it did not pay to argue with sergeant-majors when you are a junior.
The following week, while on reconnaissance about thirty miles behind the German lines, our machine and another were flying along merrily when we were tackled by six Ger- mans. The odds were against us, so we headed for our own lines at an elevation of about six thousand feet.
The Huns, however, had made up their minds that we should not get away if they could prevent it, and they attacked us. Some of them were trying to get ahead of us, while others sought to get directly underneath us, so that they could reach us the better with their machine guns. One of the machines got over us. In fact, they overlooked no point of vantage to put an end to our career. Finally, one of the Huns, who seemed more daring than the others, made straight for the other machine. I began to fire. After a while the tracers hit his engine and then he 118
MY FIRST HUN
glided to earth. I cursed my luck for having only disabled him.
The other machines were still flying around us, though by this time in larger circles. Al- though we were now near our own lines, they kept pegging away at us and some of their bullets kept spinning past us dangerously close.
Just as we got over our lines, the Huns made another big try to get us. Our ma- chines separated in order to not give the Germans a chance to attack us together. Two of them went for my machine while the other three attacked the other. I fought my op- ponents at long range, hoping to hold them off in that manner. But they were energetic and daring enough. They closed in on us and the rattle of their machine guns could be heard above the roar of my engine, so close were they.
The Huns decided to try other tactics. One of them started to climb while the other kept on a level with us. Not one of them remained in any position very long. Of a sudden the Hun machine which had managed to get well above us began to dive, and as he did so its 119
THE FLYING FIGHTER
guimer landed a bullet in the shoulder of my pilot, Captain Eobertson.
I feared that the Captain had been dis- abled, and was ready to jump into his place. If he lost consciousness the machine would be out of control, and in that case it would have been the last trip for both of us.
Captain Robertson remained conscious. He seemed unable, however, to keep control of the machine. We began to descend rapidly towards Hun land and I had visions already of being captured and made a prisoner of war.
To find out in what state the pilot was I shouted at him. Instead of saying a word, however, he pointed up at one of the Huns who had just passed us. That signal, as I presently came to understand, was intended to show me that we were to dive to the ground.
A grand nose dive came. It was made at so steep an angle that the oil rushed out of the breather pipes and covered my face. It also blinded my goggles so that I was obliged to waste time in wiping them off with my handkerchief.
But that was soon done. There was a whole 120
MY FIEST HUN
dmm of cartridges, on the machine, and as the Hun came to my level again I let fly at him. I saw him raise himself, then he dropped back in his seat — dead.
With that machine ont of the way the pilot pnlled ours up once more, and soon we were headed for home.
Captain Eobertson was getting weaker all the time, however, and I began to doubt whether we would get over the line. In the course of our fight with the Hun machines, we had gone back over the German lines, as I now discovered, and our speed had fallen off alarmingly.
I am not much of a praying man, but right there I said the little prayer my old mother had taught me. Meanwhile, I kept my eyes open for the remaining Hun, who was still near us. I hoped that he would decide to stay away for I had only one drum of ammu- nition left — 47 rounds. He was obliging enough to do this.
But now we were again within range of the German anti-aircraft batteries, which began to fire at us. They hammered away indus- triously, but luck was with us.
121
THE FLYING FIGHTER
We crossed the lines without further in- jury and landed at a French aerodrome. Though disabled, my pilot made a very fine landing. He was bandaged up by the French and sent by motor car to the hospital. I telephoned to the commanding officer of the squadron to tell him what had happened and he sent another pilot down to get the machine. On our arrival at the Squadron aerodrome I was welcomed by the commanding officer and learned that the other machine which had accompanied us had been helped out of a tight fix by two French machines.
Between the three of them they had brought down two of the Huns, the third having made a rapid retreat as a captive balloon of ours had observed.
From the same captive balloon my fight had also been seen, and its observer reported that the machine whose pilot I had shot had come down with a crash behind the Hun lines.
My month of probation was not yet over and such time as I did not spend in the air had to be devoted to study. Finally I was sent to H. where at the headquarters of the Royal Flying Corps I was told that I was to 122
MY FIRST HUN
proceed to England to get my officer's kit, this being the first intimation that I had been given a commission. Needless to say, I was as proud as a peacock, and the prospects of seeing England again increased my hap- piness. There was no holding me, and I blew myself to a wine dinner in a little French hotel. I was a stranger and for that reason had to celebrate all alone. The celebration ceased on the arrival of my train.
CHAPTEE X
MY COMMISSIOK"
I AERivED in London too late in the evening to report at headquarters, and decided to have a look at Piccadilly Circus, which I had no trouble in finding this time. I also met two boys from home, who were on leave, and the three of us went all over town, finishing up at Murray's Club, which was then open all night.
After a short period of enjoyment, I settled down to business, getting ready, among other things, my officer's equipment. The uniform I now put on impressed me very much more than did the one I had donned in Canada. It was a novelty to have the Tommies and non- commissioned officers salute me. But that sensation soon wore off ; there were so many of them that my right arm was nearly para- lyzed by night time.
There is nobody who can take the conceit 124
ilil
GOOD PALS
A SLIGHT MISHAP
MY COMMISSION
out of a man as well as one's friends. I had my picture taken in my uniform and sent photographs to friends at home who promptly discovered that the old uniform had fitted me much better. A week later I was back on my way to France, meeting at the port of em- barkation a pal from my end of the world, James Newton. He was very much surprised to see that I was an officer now, but said that he would not salute me if I were a general.
I had orders to report to the embarkation officer in France, and he sent me to one of the aircraft parks further inland. The com- manding officer of the squadron to which I had been detailed gave me what seemed to be a chilly reception.
**I don't know anything about you at all, old chap," he said, as -he sized me up. I was dead tired and hungry and did not care whether he knew* anything about me or not.
**Well, give me something to eat," I said, "and a bed for the night. To-morrow we can call up headquarters and find out where I am to go.'^
I managed to get some food all right, but no place to sleep. The commanding officer of 125
THE FLYING FIGHTER
the sqnadron spent a good part of tHat eve- ning getting in touch with headquarters, and when at eleven o'clock he had finally managed to do that I was packed into a motor car and sent to the headquarters in question. It was a three hours' drive to get to my destination, and I was almost frozen when I got there.
At headquarters I met a good old staff colonel, who did his best to make me com- fortable, so that soon I was sitting beside a fire and had a glass of Scotch beside me. A little later they had found a nice room for me and I was asleep in less time than it takes to tell it.
During the day I was called into the office of the Colonel and was then given my route orders and instructed to report to a squadron in the South. I had been attached to a squad- ron in the part of France to which I was going and I wondered whether my orders would send me there again.
I should have liked to get back to that squadron, but it was not to be.
The commanding officer of the squadron to which I was attached gave me to under- stand that his was the crack organization of 126
MY COMMISSION
the corps, but tHey all do that. After that he told me minutely what he expected me to do, and, believe me, it was a whole lot.
But he seemed quite nice about it, and so I made up my mind to do my best to satisfy him.
About a quarter of a mile away from the aerodrome was a little wood into which the Boches were in the habit of putting shells all through the day and night. In the woods was an Armstrong hut which was assigned to me as my quarters, and my real flying life had begun. Next morning I was given a set of maps of the country we had to work in and, from the number issued to me, I arrived at the conclusion that this squadron covered most of France. I was also a-ssigned to a pilot by the name of Smith.
It was in this squadron that I received my first nickname; it happened in this manner. The squadron, being English, its men followed the English custom of having breakfast at «even in the morning, lunch at one in the afternoon, tea at four, and dinner at eight or nine in the evening. The breakfast was very good, but lunch was a cold meal with 9 127
THE FLYING FIGHTER
canned tongue or a cold ham and salad. In
the parts of the world that I come from we have the habit of calling the midday meal dinner, and it was the big meal of the day. For that reason I found it hard to get used to this cold meal. I felt the need of some- thing warm in the middle of the day, so I went to A. and there bought myself about fifteen cans of pork and beans. The cook used to warm these up for me for lunch, and it was not long before I had the squadron eating pork and beans. That led to my being known to the commanding officer as Bean- face/' The name stuck.
Before long I had another nickname — Casey. That name came to me from a rag time record on our phonograph popularly known as ''Casey Jones," the same Casey Jones who went down on the Robert E. Lee. I learned the thing by heart and used to sing it at the weekly concerts we gave our men. The concert always was a big affair and we used to get a battalion band to play for us. But my Casey Jones song continued to be a feature of the concerts, hence the nick- name.
128
MY COMMISSION
As I said, my pilot's name was Smith. I called him **Smithie.'' His other name I never learned.
Pilot Smithie was a good sort and aside from having a wholesome fear of the Hmi "Archies," he was a brave boy, as I soon f onnd ont.
We were assigned to a patrol and for a week nothing of much importance happened. On a Sunday "afternoon, while aloft, I noticed that the aircraft sign intended to warn ns of danger had ont the figure *'8." Looking in the direction indicated by the arrow on the ground I saw eight German machines on re- connaissance behind our lines. Our ' ' Archie ' ' guns were hammering at them and before long one of the Hun machines detached itself from the flock and headed for home.
The machine I was in was about a thousand feet above him and as the Hun came towards ns my pilot began to play for position so that I might get a good shot at him. He managed to get above the Hun machine, and as it came past us its gunner started to work his ma- chine gun. I returned his fire, and for the first two drxmas of cartridges no result was 129
THE FLYING FIGHTER
obtained. But with the first half of the third dmm I killed the gunner.
We then closed in on the man who was fly- ing the machine. He looked at me as I took aim and I hated to shoot him. But as I thought of the chances I would have if I were in his boots I just naturally pulled the trigger and hit him with a string of about thirty cartridges.
His machine turned towards our lines of a sudden and then headed down to earth. Then it began to spin, there was a little puff of dust as he hit, and it was all over.
My pilot was overjoyed and I was quite proud myself, but I thought of what it meant to be shot at nine thousand feet above the ground and of the cra-sh when the machine landed. What a finish!
When we were through with patrol work, we returned to headquarters, and that night the dead Hun looked at me as he had done in the afternoon; as a result I slept very little.
In the long run flying gets as monotonous as riding a motor car, and one soon gets to look upon it as hard work. It is hard work. 130
MY COMMISSION
I have found my nerves strung to such a pitch that I could do nothing for a minute or so, and at such times I would chew my lead pencils.
My student period was not yet over. There was still much to learn. It was not alone the question of how to handle a machine gun or even the airplane itself ; the service which the aviator is expected to render is compli- cated and intensive in its many details. For instance, so far I had learned little of what is known ag Contact Control, the purpose of which is to keep in touch with advancing infantry, tabulate its progress, and then re- port to headquarters. Each battalion or other unit advancing has a call of its own when it wants to signal. This is transmitted to the observer aloft by means of a ground- sheet and shutter, the message being con- veyed by means of dots and dashes. The air- plane observer is expected to take this message and relay it by wireless to head- quarters. When convenient he will fly over headquarters every fifteen minutes to either drop message bags or report in person.
To study that system I was sent with my 131
THE FLYING FIGHTER
pUot to a French aerodrome. We began to map out the country behind it, and then practiced this system of signalling with troops detailed for the purpose.
I will explain here briefly what the organi- ssation of the average flying squadron is. It generally has from four to seven machines to a flight and from two to four flights, and each flight is commanded by a flight com- mander, who generally has the rank of cap- tain. This ofificer is also charged with the duties of the commanding officer in an admin- istrative sense. He is empowered to punisK his rank and file. But he is responsible to the officer commanding the squadron for orders.
The commanding officer of my squadron was an Irish Catholic, and he was to us a sort of Father Confessor. He went to church every Sunday morning in a little village near our camp. Usually we who were Catholics went along. The commanding officer had a real prayer book, which to me was quite a novelty. I had not been to church for so long that I did not remember much about it. But it soon came back.
132
MY COMMISSION
The old Father was -an army chaplain and his little church was about five miles behind the lines. The people who attended were poor but proud, as most of the real French people seem to be. They felt the war quite badly, but despite that they had masses said for their dead sons, husbands, and brothers. They aU showed a wonderful spirit, as was evidenced by the firm voices in which they said their prayers for those who were fight- ing.
We invited the Father to come over to the squadron and have dinner with us, and one night he came. Before leaving our camp he blessed our machines. After that we saw quite a lot of him, though he was very busy with the troops under his care, whom he called his flock, and' with the peasants, who all went to him when they were in trouble.
There was a large Hun aerodrome at Cam- brai, about fifty miles from our camp: It had been decided to bomb this. Three machines were to go. Of the three selected mine was one. It was a beautiful evening and the raid was supposed to 'be made that night.
We put on our duds and piled into the 133
THE FLYING FIGHTER
machine and soon we were np in the air. Though it was dark, there was no danger of losing our way as the roads show plainly at night a& well as lakes and rivers, which look like silver, and the lines were being lit up by star shells. From above, these lights could be seen from a long way oiBP and when many of them were up it was a pretty sight indeed. The star shells burst very much as did a large shell, and when many of them go up at one time they furnish a splendid pyrotechnic display.
On this night the front was quite busy. The star shells lighted up great stretches, and the wonder of it was heightened by the flash of guns and exploding shells. We crossed the Hun lines at n good height and were soon behind them As we went over their
Archies'' we found that -our coming was known. Shrapnel began to burst below us, but our machine went straight over and be- fore long we were near our mark. The pilot shut off the power and glided down to within 500 feet of the Hun aerodrome ; then he pulled the plugs that liberated the bombs.
As the bombs exploded everything below 134
MY COMMISSION
ns jnmped into action. Searchlights began to flit about and tried to find us. More shrap- nel reached up for us.
The other two machines after laying their eggs" had started upward again, but my pilot seemed to have some trouble in starting his motor. We were still going down, as I could tell by the searchlights, and it seemed to me that we were dangerously near the groxmd when the engine suddenly began to work.
We flew very low over the ground for some distance before we had speed enough to *'zoom.'' But after that we lost no time re- crossing the Hun lines, which we did at an elevation of about 5,000 feet.
When we arrived at the aerodrome the pilot told me that we had had a narrow escape and that the engine had started again just in the very nick of time. Otherwise we would have been obliged to land in the terrain of the Huns at Cambrai.
I thanked my stars that I had not known it at the time, for I am sure I would have died then and there of heart failure.
About a week later I was flying behind the Hxm lines with a pilot named Knight, when, 135
THE FLYING FIGHTER
on tnrning aronnd to go back to our line, the engine slowed down.
Knight did not succeed in starting np again, though he tried hard. We were going down, down, down — towards the Hun lines. Soon the machine guns started to work on us from the ground. We were in a terrible situation. I had shouted several times at the pilot, but getting no answer from him finally looked around.
The pilot was gone!
But he had not fallen out as I feared. My frantic yells finally reached him, and then I discovered that he was at the bottom of the cockpit trying to fix the throttle of the engine, which had broken.
It was easier to reach the throttle from my position, and more than once I had thought out just that emergency. Now I was to put my theory into action. Taking off my heavy flying coat, and supporting myself on my head and shoulders on the floor of the ma- chine, I reached around the foot-board and opened the throttle. That started the motor again and once more we avoided being made prisoner by the Huns.
136
MY COMMISSION
So far so good, but in reaching down to get at the throttle I had wedged myself be- tween some stays and trusses from which I found it impossible to extricate myself.
The remainder of the trip to our aerodrome I made upon my head.
By the time we reached camp the pains in my neck were almost unbearable and for the next week I walked around with a stiff neck.
The work we were doing was very interest- ing and I got my full share of it. There were also days on which we had little to do and then we would go to a little country house nearby to visit two of the nicest girls I Ve ever known. When there was little to do up in the air we would go to a nearby battery and help the crew a little and learn as much as we could.
CHAPTEE XI
BATTERING THE HUK
I FOUND artillery work most attractive, both on the ground and when np in the air. I used to control fire by sending the necessary corrections to the batteries by wireless.
Aerial control of artillery fire works some- thing lil?:e this : Let ns say that I am up on patrol and see a Hnn gnn shooting. To stop him I call artillery headquarters by wireless and if the enemy gnn happens to be a regis- tered target, in other words a gnn whose site is located, headquarters will telephone np to the battery which has the registration — ^mean- ing the necessary data on elevation and horizontals.
In a very short time after that Mr. Hnn qnits his fnnny work.
If it shonld happen that the Hnn is making himself a general nnisance and the battery has not been located, I call np general head- 138
BATTERING THE HUN
quarters and let them know that I want to strafe" that Hun. Headquarters then lets me pick a battery of guns with which to work and I get in touch with that battery.
I can reach them with wireless but they cannot communic^ate with me in that manner, so that I depend upon their signals, which are strips of cloth on the ground, placed in cer- tain formations. There would be no difficulty in receiving wireless on an aeroplane were it not for the noise of the motor and the vibra- tions of the machine, both of which make ^ill knowai methods of receiving wireless mes- sages absolutely impossible. But the signals on the ground answered the same purpose though they were not by any means so con- venient
I call the battery and let them know who I am, and ask them if they will ''take on the shoot.
As soon as the battery has signalled to me that they will, I indicate by map co-ordi- nates, as far as is possible, the target's position. When the battery is ready to fire, another signal is put out, letting me know that they are ready to fire, so that I may be able 139
THE FLYING FIGHTER
to watch the effect of the shot after it has left the gun.
The first shots as a rule fall wide of the mark, and I have only heard of one instance in which an aerial observer was able to plant a shell right in the middle of a Hun battery the first time. And I am inclined to believe that that was accident entirely.
But let us say that the first shot falls three hundred yards short of the target. In that case the battery is told by wireless that it must rectify its elevation accordingly. But it is not so simple while up in the air to de- termine just how far a shell has fallen wide of the mark. It is possible only by drawing imaginary circles around the Hun battery, each of these circles representing one hundred yards. If an error has been made in this calculation the next shot will show it.
When finally the shells fall within a hun- dred yards or so of the battery it becomes necessary to draw smaller circles, 50 yards, 25 yards and 10. These circles are named by letters of the alphabet. Let us say that the distances, 200, 100, 50, 25 and 10 yards are known to the gunners in the battery as 140
BATTERING THE HUN
L, M, N, O, P. They are also bisected by figures from 1 to 12, 12 being due north and 6 due south, while 3 and 9 -are respectively ea-st and west.
If a shot falls in the 50-yard circle and northeast of the battery, I would in that case send down to the battery's fire control the message N-2 or N-1. The battery commander then ranges his gun for this last correction, and the shooting goes on until something else happens.
For instance, while I was controlling fire in this manner, all of a sudden my battery might cease firing. Not another shot would fall, and no more flashes would come from the gun pits. Looking around I would then be pretty certain to see a Heinie, as we call the German airmen, floating somewhere near me.
Of course that Heinie had come over to spot the battery which was molesting his own. The commander of my battery had seen him before I could and for that reason had ordered ''cease fire," so that the location of the guns would not be given away. You can bet that if that Hun had spotted our guns 141
THE FLYING FIGHTER
and got the position down, that very night they wonld have been shelled.
One day a Hun plane came over the aero- drome after we had gone np and found it too misty to operate. We had hardly reached the ground again when out of that pea soup overhead came down in our own code the mes- sage :
**Too misty! Go home!" Only it was a Hun birdman who had given us that kind message. Yes, Mr. Hun is a very clever person on improvisations. Knowing that we relied on the smallest wireless sets we could get, he would erect a powerful wireless station some- where behind his lines and then with the waves of that line he would obliterate the weak electrical impulses with which we worked. As a rule they would wait until about three or four machines were up and then they would jam them completely out of hearing. In this case those on the ground who were listening for our signals would hear nothing but the loud call of the powerful Hun station.
But Mr. Hun did even more than that. He knew our code of signals, and would wait 142
BATTEEING THE HUN
until a machine spotted a gun somewhere near a target, but not close enough for our observers to advise the use of the entire bat- tery. Then he would come in with his call and order a salvo. The battery commander, not knowing that the signal was not from his own observer, would fire and, maybe, waste from ninety to one hundred rounds of good ammunition in an open field.
Meanwhile, the infuriated pilot or his ob- server would have to race back to the aero- drome and telephone to the battery to stop it.
Later, the target might be taken on again by means of a new code or through some other method of signalling, such as electric lamps. And thus the silent kill would go on.
It was not long before I discovered that the early mondng and just before dusk were the best time for patrol work. I generally got more information then than at any other time of the day, for this time is especially well suited for observation behind the actual lines on account of morning and evening movements.
I always looked for the cookhouses of Fritz, 143
THE FLYING FIGHTER
and I was aided in this l3y the fact that there was little wind which would allow the little wisps of smoke to rise well above the ground. My pilot wonld then get over the German lines, swoop down, and I wonld de- posit a bomb among Fritz's *'eats.''
These bombs I wonld very often make my- self the day before by ramming into a piece of pipe a charge of dynamite to give it a good pnnch. Into one end I wonld stick a bit of fuse and a detonator which was then lighted by means of a cigarette lighter.
These bombs proved regular surprise parties to Fritz, who would run like sin when one of them dropped near him. Very often he kept his eye too long on the machine in- stead of on his feet, and it was quite funny to see some of the tumbles he took. There were many other Fritzies who never got up again.
In the end I lost my love for bombing Huns at such close range. Once they put a bullet through our gasoline tank and we had just enough of it in our emergency tank to take us back to our lines in safety. The bullet came through a corner of the fussalage, went 144
BATTEEING THE HUN
through the tank, and hit the nether side of my seat, which happened to be the top of the tank. Needless to say I jumped so high that my head hit the top plane. I had a horrible vision of being wounded in such a place. Just think of the monotony of standing up all the time while the cure is going on. But I found no trace of blood, and was correspondingly grateful. I had only been bruised enough to make me appreciate what a wound in that part of my anatomy would mean. While I was recovering from the shock, it occurred to me that it would be well to stop the leak in the tank with my finger. But by that time so little juice was left in it that it really was not worth while. On arriving home I fished the bullet out of the tank and I have saved it •for a souvenir.
The experience did not entirely disgust me with these pleasant little excursions. But I was careful thereafter to supply my home- made bombs with longer fuses and drop them from a greater height.
Orders were received at headquarters one day that every man must make his will— a cheerful job. There was very little that I 145
THE FLYING FIGHTER
had to bequeath to anyone but what there was I left to my mother. An Irishman named Holleran, who was full of Irish wit and as well read as he was witty, drew up his own will, and when he handed it to the command- ing officer of the squadron, he said :
**Well, sir, I am a Socialist, and I believe in Socialism. I've got nothing, and I want to divide it with everybody.''
Poor old John! He was the life of the squadron until he and his pilot were hit by one of our own shells and brought down in Hunland.
CHAPTER XII
**PIZZ" AND ^^RANDIe" ,
One of the most consistent combinations of pilot and good fellow was to be found in Phil Prothero. He was a daredevil Scots- man. He was wild; that is to say he would do anything in the world.
* ^ Pizz, ' ' as we called him, flew a little scout- ing machine and spent the greater part of the time keeping the guns and sights on his machine in perfect order. He had brought down four Huns, but of late he had had a streak of bad luck. He would get up at three in the morning, go down to the 'drome, and have his machine pulled out of the hangar by the sleepy mechanics. Then he would pile into his flying clothes, get up about fifty feet from the ground, and come rushing over the camp, waking the rest of us up on his way to the lines in search of a Hun who might be doing an early patrol. But he never got his 147
THE FLYING FIGHTER
chance until lie had lost many a good morn- ing's sleep. One morning, after he had been doing this sort of thing for abont two weeks, he happened to be a few miles behind the Hun lines and was flying low, since the ground mist made it hard to see from a great height.
*'Pizz'' was sailing along when he was sud- denly surprised by the rat-a-tat-tat of the machine gun of a Hun who had settled on his tail. He sized the situation up in a flash, looped over the Hun and fired about ten shots, when his well petted gun jammed. '^Pizz" simply went wild and had to drop out of the fight. There was nothing to do but return home for repairs.
He landed and had the jam rectified by the gunsmith of the squadron and away he went again to the lines, looking for his Hun.
But the Hun was no longer aloft, so ^^Pizz'^ went over to a German 'drome and there he found one who was just getting up into the air.
''Pizz" let him get up a ways and then fell upon him like a hawk, bringing him down on his own 'drome. ^*Pizz" then went very low over the German hangars and fired the rest 148
**PIZZ" AND ^^RANDIE"
of Ms ammunition at the frightened men, who ran all over the place looking for cover. After putting the fear of the Lord into the Huns on the aerodrome properly, **Pizz" started for home, climbing all the time to cross the lines at a good height. But the Hun Archies got a line on him and started to ex- plode high explosive shrapnel all around him.
Jnst as he was crossing the lines home- ward bound, a ^ ^woolly bear ' ' burst right near him, knocking his engine out of the machine. The machine was completely unbalanced by this and now uncontrollable, but *'Pizz" kept his head and got ready for the crash. It came all right and poor old ^^Pizz'^ was pretty badly damaged, having four ribs broken, his face cut and bruised, in addition to sustaining several internal injuries.
He went to the hospital for a while but soon recovered. He was sent to a famous fighting squadron and there he was just as wild as ever. He went up one day, and while on patrol tackled the Eed Hun, so called be- cause his machine was painted red. They fought for twenty-five minutes and finally poor old **Pizz" was shot down.
149
THE FLYING FIGHTER
Another scout came along and soon the Red Hun was engaged in another battle. He was a good pilot and showed it by the way he played for position, darting hither and thither, but the Allied airman proved too much for him, and before long the Hun came down in a spinning nose dive and on fire. He came down so fast that one could hear the machine whistle as it came hurtling through space, then the sound of crashing wood and rending of fabric. And in two minutes noth- ing was left but a small heap of burning wreckage. So passed the Red Hun.
We all mourned old ^*Pizz," for every one liked him. "We buried the remains of the Red Hun, for he had been a real sportsman. But there was little left of him. That little we gathered in a sack and the chaplain read the burial services at his grave.
We then sent a message by air to his aero- drome, telling of the fight and burial, and a short time later we received the same sort of message concerning **Pizz,'' and we all felt better.
But patrol work and artillery fire spotting, with now and then a long reconnaissance trip, 150
''PIZZ^' AND ^^EANDIE"
were not all of our tasks. We used to take photographs up in the air and found that quite interesting. These things made up our daily routine and it had to be some very exceptional thing in the end which at all im- pressed anybody. The exigencies of our call- ing were such that we grew not only indif- ferent to danger, but we became also very hlase towards everything. There was a great deal of keen rivalry, even to a fighting point, among the various squadrons, but what hard feeling there was generally vanished when some man died. In that case it was found that he had always been everybody's friend and his memory was held sacred by aU.
Eoutine is likely to give life very common- place aspects, as we thought, until some daredevil pilot would volplane us to the ground and add a few somersaults or loops just before he landed in the field, just to break the monotony. Some of the pilots had a habit of just missing the tops of our huts in order that the noise of the motor might break our sleep in the small hours of the morning. We might get up and curse the man until the 151
THE FLYING FIGHTER
air was bine and shout vengeful words after him, but that would do no good. The fact is that right down in your heart you loved that same fellow like a brother.
In the air service men will stand on the ground and shudder at sights that they them- selves have been responsible for when over the lines of the enemy. Moreover, you al- ways have a feeling for any of the boys who are doing their bit in the danger zone. And after that you get into your bus and go up and do more of it.
Even a pilot ofttimes stands on the ground and shivers to see some of the things another flyer is doing. But he will climb into his own machine and go up and do the same stunts himself.
But there were times when I had reason to wish myself back on the ground even if it was under the most terrific shell fire that I had seen. The man who is wounded in the trenches or out on the open field does not f aU very far as a rule, and he has a fighting chance for his life. But the flyer who is hit in the air has a small chance, and it made me think of the old saying, ''If you're hit on the 152
^'YIW AND ^^EANDIE"
ground there you are, but if you're hit in the air where are you!"
However, I had joined the air service for better or for worse and I made up my mind to stick to it. I saw a lot of machines shot down in the course of time. Some of them took fire up in the air. Others crumbled to bits as they hit the ground, and in nearly all cases their crews were killed. Now and then the men in the machine would still live a day or two before they made their last trip West. But in only a few cases did men live long after they had come to earth from any great height in a machine which was out of control.
I used to think this thing over, but the thought never occurred to me that my end would come in that fashion.
I was summoned to appear before the com- manding of&cer one day. He needed a gunner for a pilot who was going to take photo- graphs. I felt less like flying on that day than I had ever done, but I went neverthe- less—I went because I had no choice, of course. The commanding of&cer of a squad- ron is to the men of his unit a little god, whose 153
THE FLYING FIGHTER
word is law and whom you dare not dis- obey if you wish to avoid unpleasant con- sequences.
So when the officer said, Roberts, yon go with Hyatt as gunner," I said: '*Yes, sir.''
That was all there was to it. I might have thought a lot, but those thoughts will always remain unspoken. For orders must be obeyed to the letter, whether the job is dangerous or not, under penalty of court martial for cowardice, so reads the little book called King's Rules and Regulations.
We got to a good height in very little time. In those days the average photograph was taken at the height of from 6,000 to 7,000 feet.
It happened to be a perfectly clear day in May. We got to the Hun lines and they were waiting for us it seemed. As soon as we stuck our noses over their lines they started to shell us for all they were worth. I had never seen such a shelling of an aeroplane before, and I confess that I was thoroughly frightened — almost frantic. The pilot was intent upon making good photographs, and he 154
CITY OF ALBERT, FRANCE, TAKEN SLIGHTLY NOSE-HEAVY
FROM SEVENTY-FIVE HUNDRED FEET WITH MACHINE ON VER- TICAL BANK
READY FOR ACTION THE PILOT
^^PIZZ" AND **EANDIE''
had to stay within the 7,000 feet altitude in order to get them.
There being no Hun plane up, I had little to do. I was kneeling in my seat and looking for Hxms but not a one came, nor was there any reason why they should in all that * * Archie ' ' exhibition. The chances were very good that the Hun anti-aircraft batteries would get us down without some Heinie having to take a risk. "We circled and circled over the German lines until Hyatt had taken fifty-six photos, as fine a collection of the Hun first, second and third lines as had ever been made.
When Hyatt had done that he had to pro- long the agony by photographing the Hun reserve positions ; not that he wanted to, for he was as frightened as I was. And after that we concluded that we might just as well fly back home.
"Well, when we counted the holes in our planes in the aerodrome we discovered that ninety-six holes, of various sizes, made by high explosive shrapnel, had robbed our planes of much of their carrying capacity. A few more and the old bus would have settled 155
THE FLYING FIGHTEE
down in Hnnland no matter how much speed the motor might kick up.
I was interested in the conrse which some of the shrapnel balls had taken and discovered that many of them had come too close for solid comfort. One of them, for instance, mnst have missed my ankles by the veriest fraction of an inch. Another one had gone through the plane near the pilot and ac- counted for a slit nine inches long in Hyatt's leather coat.
I must make another remark about the holes in our planes. They were not small by any means. One of them was large enough for a cat to be thrown through. I guess that a whole shrapnel case must have gone through the plane. Shrapnel holes in the planes and the smaller perforations left by machine gun bullets had ceased to be of any consequence to the boys, however.
When I first entered the air service men still counted such things, and on the aero- dromes they used to establish records based on the number of holes in a machine. But that got to be an old joke. The only per- formance which counted at this time was to 156
*^PIZZ" AND '^EANDIE''
come hnrtling through the air for several thousand feet, land on the nose of the ma- chine, and then get from under the wreck with enough life left in you to make patching up w^orth while. K that could be done from ten to fifteen thousand feet, well and good, and if en route the gasoline tank took fire, good night. Nothing short of that could get a thrill out of the tough lot they had around the aerodromes.
"We used to have considerable fun with the captive balloons of the Huns. The purpose of our attacks on them was to set them on fire, for nothing short of that could ever hurt them unless you shot them full of machine gun bullets. These captive balloons went up rather high, so our machines had a fair chance at them, if they could surprise them.
The bombs we used to drop on the captive balloons were of a deadly nature not only in so far that the phosphorus they contained would ignite the gas, but in addition to that they were deadly if dropped on the men in the trenches, as they produced incurable burns, and the fumes were horrible to breathe, as they contained a sort of gas. Old Eandie, one 157
THE FLYING FIGHTER
of our pilots, was sent over one day to get a Hun sausage. He went up three times before lie finally got it.
This particular sausage had had a great deal of our attention. It never came up twice in the same place, but moved up or down the road a hundred yards before it ascended. Generally, it was from two to three miles behind the lines.
We all wondered what this Hun was up to, and Randie was sent up to find out. With his load of bombs aboard he started up. The Hun watched him come, for to the Hun an Al- lied flying machine means death in various ways.
This one knew that Randie was after him, so he had his balloon pulled down as soon as Randie came at all near him.
But the Hun seemed very anxious to con- tinue his observations and went up again. Randie, who had returned, started for him once more. In that manner they played hide and seek for about two hours.
Finally Randie climbed up and found a hiding place behind a cloud. The other thought that his tormentor was gone, but dis- 158
*'PIZZ" AND **RANDIE"
covered shortly that he was mistaken. When the balloon was up about half way, Eandie took a dive from his hiding place and made straight for it, and then pulled the plugs to release the bombs. The two Huns in the cap- tive balloon saw it coming, but there was nothing that they could do. Eandie was upon them before they knew it, and as soon as the bombs hit they both jumped. It is not the prettiest sight in the world to see two men jump out of a balloon at four thousand feet from the ground.
The parachute of one of the men opened after a fall of five hundred feet or so. That stopped his rapid progress through the air and he descended safely enough. But the parachute of the other Hun never opened at all and he looked like a weighted rat as he sailed earthward. A speck of dust showed where he hit. He was only a Hun but he was game, and old Randie afterwards told me that he felt sorry for him. And Randie knew; he was an old timer, and game to the cere.
Randie made the supreme sacrifice a short time later when he was hit by a high explosive 159
THE FLYING FIGHTEE
shell while flying at abont one thousand feet.
Eandie was an Englishman — an English public schoolboy, well brought up. There is something in the training those boys get in one of those schools which they never for- get. They are gentlemen and they show this quality. An Englishman who has been through Eton, Oxford or Harrow can be spotted as soon as you start talking to him, and he is generally as game as they make them. I have met several in my travels and they nearly all pan out alike.
And Eandie was no exception to the rule. He was a gentleman and a sport. He did not believe in hard work, but he did believe in ef- ficiency. He read a lot, and once in a while you would see Eandie drop his book and call for his bus. The mechanics, who liked him as much as we did and who would do any- thing for him, would get his bus out. Then Eandie would put on his helmet and fly out to the line just to tease the Huns, as he called it. He would fly behind the Hun lines and of course the '^Archies" would start work- ing on him, and for every shell that Archie" exploded Eandie would give him a loop. 160
*'PIZZ'' AND ^'RANDIE''
Eandie would do that for a time and then take a dive at the Hun lines, empty out two or three drums of ammunition, and fly back home. Then he would get out his book and start to read again just as if nothing had happened.
CHAPTER XIII
DAREDEVILS
1^ the days when flying was largely de- fence and observation, and not on such a large scale as it is now, the pilots in various squad- rons used to try and beat each other doing tricks or stunts with aeroplanes. One man would go up and do a series of loops, another did tail slides and stalls, as we term a manoeuvre in which the machine is brought to a dead stop after reaching the apex of an up- ward curve. Another would do side slides and nose dives. And soon every one could do everyone else's stunts. Flying schools taught pupils that a spinning nose dive was fatal and no one had ever gotten out of one alive.
In 1916 some daredevil pilot flying a new type of machine, while flying along would roll his machine completely over sideways. Then some other pilot figured how to get out of a 162
DAEEDEVILS
spinning nose dive without injuring himself or the machine. Then the roll was applied while the machine was upside down at the top of a loop, which meant that the machine was started into a loop, and while upside down on the top of the loop it was rolled over to its proper position.
Soon the scout schools were teaching their pupils to do all such stunts, and they were ap- plied to gain time or to win advantage over an adversary while engaged in combat, or to dodge anti-aircraft shells. In this manner the art of flying was developed by leaps and bounds.
It was surprising to see the number of evo- lutions a machine could be put through by a pilot who could do stunts properly. It was a common occurrence to see the machines come back from the lines and patrol work doing all kinds of funny stunts. They would cut all sorts of queer figures like a litter of playful kittens. There were a number of other stunts in which the pilots took pride, such as flying just a few feet from the ground behind the German lines, or skipping just over the tops of the parapets of the Hun front lines, using 163
THE FLYING FIGHTER
their machine gnns as they -went. These manoeuvres were very dangerous, but a flying man in his prime never thinks of danger— if he did he would quit flying.
In the early part of 1916 I used to fly as observer for a daredevil pilot best known as K. K/s one ambition was to touch the wheels of his under carriage on the ground somewhere behind the Hun lines.
Generally when a man does things that are forbidden something happens. Fate seems to punish one for the things that are fool- hardy. And if fate had punished K on this special occasion I might not be here to tell the tale. But fortunately fate waited until our return to the aerodrome.
We were up on an early morning patrol, having started at dawn, and there was no ac- tion behind the German lines, as was usually the case at that hour in the morning. The sun was just starting to show itself over the horizon and with it came the promise of a fine day, which meant lots of work.
I was busy looking for a battery of German guns which had been reported active the night before, when all at once the Hun air- 164
DAREDEVILS
craft batteries opened fire on ns. The ex- plosion of the shells came so thick and heavy that onr machine was tossed aronnd by the concussion as if it were a cigarette paper. K shut off his power, and I kept watch to find the batteries that were doing the shooting. I fonnd one on the way down, bnt I soon lost all eagerness to pnt it ont of action, for K made no attempt at getting back to onr lines.
I looked over to make sure he was not wounded, and, as the engine still turned, I wondered what was happening.
We went down behind the German lines xmtil we were just over the tree tops. K then opened the throttle and the engine responded all right, but he closed it again, and I can't describe the strange sensation I had. I swallowed my heart, and made up my mind that I was to be a prisoner for the duration of the war.
That thought was not pleasant, especially after hearing the hair-raising tales which were told of the way our prisoners were be- ing treated by the Germans. I shouted to K that the engine was all right, but he merely 165
THE FLYING FIGHTER
looked at me. I put a drum of ammunition on my Lewis gun, for I had made up my mind to kill him if he were a spy, and then I would make the attempt to fly the machine back myself.
We glided gently down and touched the ground. Over the field I saw three German soldiers racing to capture us. Just then K pulled open the throttle and away we went up in the air once more. My nerves just quiv- ered with joy, and I took aim at our would-be captors and let the bullets fly in a stream. But the air currents near the ground were so erratic that I did not hit them. We headed for home.
As we crossed our own lines I heaved a sigh of relief. K looked at me and smiled. He had realized his ambition to touch the ground behind the German lines, but he had also given me the scare of my life, for I did not know what he was about. K swore me to secrecy as it meant an awful strafing'' if the squadron connnander ever heard of his exploit.
I kept my word until poor K had touched the ground behind the German lines for the 166
DAREDEVILS
last time. The commaiidiiig officer and I met in England one day and I told Mm all abont it. He did not say mnch, bnt I conld see that he was thinking very hard.
They have some beantifnl summer days in France, especially in June and July, the months in which the Somme offensive began in 1916. I was up one day about three o 'clock in the afternoon spotting fire for one of our batteries. I was at an elevation of six thou- sand five hundred feet and about six miles to the rear of the Hun lines.
I was keeping our lines in my sight, how- ever, which is a proper habit with flying men. Of a sudden I noticed that it became difficult to see them; then I noticed that the sky was gradually being blotted out by heavy storm clouds which were coming from all direc- tions.
I drew the pilot's attention to this. He was of the opinion that he would have to climb over the clouds. That sounded good to me. I did not want to retarn to the aerodrome just then for the reason that the Hun bat- teries, taking advantage of the storm, were giving it to our lines hot and heavy, and 167
THE FLYING FIGHTER
in doing so they were showing their locations by the flashes of the pieces.
I was taking down the location of the bat- teries on my map with the intention of having them later shot np by the 60-ponnders of old Mac's battery.
But that storm hit us fair and square within a few minutes : and when its first gusts struck us I had the sensation that our ma- chine was being tossed about like a cigarette paper.
It was a lucky thing that I had strapped myself in, for otherwise I would have been thrown out. We were in a cloud that was so dense that I could not see the propeller nor even the tips of the wings. I looked at the aneroid, but it showed nothing that I could make anything of. It had grown so dark that the instrument could no longer be read.
At first we were surrounded by an abso- lute silence, and then the storm broke loose. Before very long we seemed to find our- selves in a veritable hell of lightning and crashing.
We traveled for quite a distance in the dark with no means of knowing our elevation. I 168
DAREDEVILS
began to fear that we migM hit a church steeple or a house or something else on the ground. The rain was now falling heavily and added to our confusion and difficulty. To make matters worse it dissolved the dye on the edge of my goggles. The mixture got into my eyes, which began to smart terribly.
With the rain beating into my face it was more necessary than ever to keep on the gog- gles. However, the dye that was running over them irritated me, so that finally I con- cluded to protect my eyes with my hands. But the rain bit into them, and the parts of my face that were exposed, so viciously that I had to put the goggles on again.
The same thing had happened to the pilot, who was as thoroughly blinded as myself and had crouched into the cockpit to find some protection.
The chances of weathering that storm did not seem very good, and it occurred to me that I was about due to collect something this time from the Huns.
My conclusion was not far wrong. Peep- ing over the side of the body of the machine I saw the backs of some horses just under- 169
THE FLYING FIGHTER
neath ns, and in another moment or two we had landed on the crest of a little hill.
I did not know whether or not we were on onr own side of the line, but my mind was soon set at ease, for a British Padre came toiling up the hill and the first question he asked was if we had seen any captive bal- loons drifting about.
It seemed that three of our balloons had broken away. I hadn't seen any balloons nor had the pilot. After that we took time to thank our stars that we were still alive and had not landed a few miles further east in Hunland.
The battery commander, with whom we were doing the shoot,'' had telephoned to the commanding officer of our squadron and had told him that we had last been seen going backward over the Hun lines. The good man was sure that he had seen us for the last time, and he was not a little surprised when we showed up.
It was some time before we could get in touch with the squadron, and when we did it we were just able to prevent our names from being put on the list of the missing. There 170
DAEEDEVILS
was a great reimion on our arrival at the squadron and we celebrated it that night in good old style by having wine with our supper.
Shortly after that I went out for patrol practice behind our own lines with a brigade of infantry who were to take part in the Somme offensive. The brigade in question had never been in action before, and since it was to have that chance in the near future it had to go through the necessary manoeuvres.
After practicing for two hours I came down at the aerodrome and was told by the com- manding officer that the general commanding the brigade was so pleased with my work that I was to have dinner with him.
I started for his headquarters in the after- noon and we discussed contact control and its merits while dining. After that he invited me to go with his staff on a big hunt in the near-by woods, where I was told still lived some wild boars.
That hunt proved to be a very interesting experience. Instead of guns long spears were used, and we rode the best horses that could be f oxmd. But I am not used to the flat sad- 171
THE FLYING FIGHTER
die and that was where my troubles began. I can ride almost any horse with a Mexican sad- dle, but to ride an English saddle, known in the Western States as a postage stamp, is a different thing. Nor was this all. The horse I was to ride was a fine hunter of good height who had been trained for fox hunting and he delighted in nothing so much as in taking every fence and hedge he came to. That spear, too, was in the way. It was about ten feet long and to me was a new implement. So between the spear and that horse, not to mention the saddle I was kept busy stay- ing right side up.
The hunt had started in the forest and as we came to its edge we could hear the beaters shout. They were coming towards us and were driving a tusker before them. The ani- mal came tearing through the underbrush. The first three hxmters missed it and then the boar made straight for my horse. Had I been anything of a pig hunter at all I might have gotten him. But that was not to be. Just as the animal charged through the legs of my horse, he snarled viciously, and that hunter of mine, used more to foxes than to 172
DAKEDEVILS
boars, started off. That ended the pig hnnt so far as I was concerned. For the next haK hour we jumped fences and hedges in good style, and then we, or rather the horse, had had enough of it. I slipped off of the saddle, very sore in certain parts of my anatomy, and then walked the hunter back to headquarters, where I exchanged him for my more com- fortable motor cycle and side car. And the general had a hearty laugh when I related to him my experience.
I drove back to headquarters a very sore man physically, but I found solace in the fact that in another five days my leave was due.
I was looking forward to the time I was to spend in England with a great deal of joyful anticipation, and I had enough money saved up to have another go at London.
The boys tried to kid me that night by saying:
**0h, yon will never see Blighty. What will you take for your turn on the leave- roster?"
The Somme offensive was to take place at any time now, and it was extremely hard for anybody to get leave. The chances of getting 173
THE FLYING FIGHTER
away from the front for a little while, as I had promised myself, seemed indeed scant. That Somme offensive might last from a week to a year for all we knew. That was true enough, and the boys made it worse by dwell- ing on the fact that before it was over I would never need another leave. One of them sug- gested that I decide upon the sort of flowers I wanted the boys to bring to my funeral.
Imagine my disappointment, if you can. For weeks and weeks I had counted upon that trip to England, and now the Somme offensive was to shatter all my plans. But there was no help for it.
CHAPTER XIV
THE BIG PUSH
For the last three days before the offensive the contact patrol men were not allowed to fly. There was a great deal of tension notice- able everywhere, and to get away from that we songht some diversion in our surround- ings.
I went to a little French village about two miles away just to look around and talk to the natives. I found them immensely interesting and they enlightened me on many points. I inquired among other things what their sports were and in what way they enjoyed them- selves. I was surprised when the old veteran of former wars, with whom I was talking, went out and brought in a bow and a quiver full of arrows.
Now, archery is an odd form of sport, though very similar to trap shooting. I had seen the Indians out on the reservations in 12 175
THE FLYING FIGHTEB
Canada and in the States nse bows and ar- rows, but not to a great extent, merely using them to amnse the children. But here it was considered almost a national sport. The old man explained how they held tournaments and even went to the extent of building tall lattice work masts, on the tops of which the birds were arranged. Each competitor paid so much to participate in the shooting and the receipts were given out in prizes for the birds that were brought down.
The masts or perches are as much as one hundred and twenty-five feet high, and on the top of them is placed the master bird, for which the biggest prize is given. The other targets all have a value commensurate with the difficulty in hitting them.
The old man took me out in the hop field behind the house and showed me how to shoot. I must say that he was a master at it. One of the things he hit was a jam tin at fifty yards. I tried it a good many times, but that jam tin might as well have been a mile away. I visited the old man quite often and many a bow and arrow shoot we had together.
Shooting with a bow was not his only ex- 176
THE BIG PUSH
ploit. He had been an old soldier and had fought in the war of 1870 and had many in- teresting tales to tell of how wars were f onght before the aeroplane came into use. But he used to think it a miracle that a machine could stay up in the air at all. My efforts to make him understand why it could stay up were all Dutch to him. And as my French was not complete enough to tell him the difference between a strut and a camber rib I had to let the old man go on thinking that the good Lord or the devil had a lot to do with it. I once offered to take him up, but he looked at me and shook his old white head and replied :
*/Non, mon cher ami! I am what you call ze scare for ze machine to fall on ze groun' an' I^m broke ma por ol neck. I thank you ze same like I go up wit' you.''
While at another village one day I was in- formed that a great cock fight was to be held on the following Sunday.
To me that was something new. I inquired what the entrance fees were to be and I was told everything was free and that experts on the game would give me good tips on which birds to bet in case I wanted to make money* 177
THE FLYING FIGHTER
I thought that there wonld be a good chance to get even with that gang of gamblers at the sqnadron, who had recently trimmed me quite a bit. I inqnired abont one of these tipsters, and I was introduced to a man who said he knew everything about cock fighting and every battling fowl in the country.
I made arrangements with him to tip me to the winners, for which I was to pay him twenty francs. We arranged to have the fights close to the squadron so that we could be handy to go up in the air at a minute's notice, as nothing was allowed to interfere with our work. Then I went home all worked up at the prospect of such an afternoon's sport and broke the news to the bunch, but I did not tell them of my plan to be the bookmaker of the event.
It would have to take place in the afternoon, as the people went to church in the morning.
We waited all the rest of the week and I had figured it all out how I was going to trim the boys on the bets. Sunday afternoon finally came on and the sportsmen gathered from far and wide with their game cocks in sacks.
178
THE BIG PUSH
The arena, which had been erected, was made of canvas in the form of a little fence about two feet high. A canvas floor had been pegged down and it looked just like a prize ring.
The announcer got npon a chair and an- nounced the first event, which was a sort of preliminary. About twenty of the boys had gathered around. I had made a little booking stall and, with my tipster as guide, I was to receive all comers in bets up to one hundred francs. He showed me the winner and the bout started.
Now these cocks were spurred according to the judgment of the owner and they had sure made a good job of it The supposed \sinner had been armed with steel spurs two and one-half inches long. But the foolish bird was too eager and jumped at the other cock with no judgment, tripped himself, and went to the mat. The other cock climbed onto him and would have made a finish of him had he not been pulled off in time.
Betting had been active and my pile went down one hundred and fifty francs.
The next fight started and the tipster told 179
THE FLYING FIGHTER
me that the winner would be the smaller cock of the two. His opponent was about twice his size, and I thought that if he did as much as fall on the little fellow he would surely kill him. But the tipster was supposed to know, and I took his word for it.
Well, the fight had no more than started than it was over. The big fellow just took one swipe at the little bird and ran one of his spurs through his neck.
The birds were taken out and the pile went down another one hundred and fifty francs.
There were only five more fights to take place, so I decided to discharge my tipster, liaving come to the conclusion that I knew as much about it as he did. The next two birds were quite evenly matched and I picked my own winner. He was a ragged looking bird, but he looked tough enough to bet on, so I took all comers against him. The betting was brisk and had I lost that fight I would have been cleaned out. But my bird won and I took in about two hundred francs.
On the fourth fight I lost one hundred francs, and just as the last fight was coming on I figured how much I would have to make 180
THE BIG PUSH
to break even, when an orderly rnslied over with orders for me to be on line patrol in five minutes.
I quit the fight about three hundred francs loser.
That cured me of betting on cock fights. The money did not matter much for one never knew but what he would be *'gone West" any minute, and the only good use we had for money was to spend it on leave and pay mess bills. What was left over changed hands freely at roulette, or crown and anchor, and poker. The games were not big and no one lost heavily, but it sure helped to pass many a weary hour.
The big drive started, and for five days and nights it seemed that every gun on both sides had been brought down to the front on which we worked, and we soon found that a great many had. Drum fire and the like was known to us already, but a bombardment of the in- tensity such as ushered in the great infantry attacks was something entirely new to us.
The shelling done by both sides was ter- rific and we, who were able to watch it from the air, wondered how a single human being 181
THE FLYINa FIGHTER
could survive the shock. For the time being nothing seemed to matter because everybody felt that a titanic struggle was on — a struggle which, it was hoped, would put an end to the war. The boys had started a tennis court near the aerodrome but all work on it ceased.
Our artillery did its best to break down the Hun lines and the Huns replied almost shot for shot. The earth shook day and night, and seven miles behind the windows rattled.
Into the trenches were being hurried thou- sands and thousands of men who were to fol- low up the advantages gained by the artillery.
The front had been a busy place the year before but now it was busier than ever. There was no end to the artillery ammunition con- voys, and I used to wonder where Great Britain and France were getting all the men that they were hurrying to the front. Even cavalry, of which we had seen very little in the past, put in an appearance.
It rained in torrents for several days and that made aerial observation very difficult if not wholly impossible, besides making life a torture to the thousands of troops who had 182
THE BIG PUSH
to live outside during the whole period. But one never heard a murmur of dissatisfaction.
On July 1st, at 4.30 in the morning, two planes from our squadron were ordered to proceed to the front for the purpose of doing contact patrol duty. We had three men in our squadron who were versed in that ac- complishment. One of the men was named Davis, the other Sutton ; I was the third. Sut- ton was to act as relief.
Davis and I had to keep over the trenches at an elevation of about two hundred feet, the weather being so bad that we had to fly low. We had to take messages from the men in khaki on the ground, following them as in one wave after another they advanced against the Huns. But they never got at the Huns. Though the barbed wire entanglements of the enemy had been cut in everywhere, it had been cleverly replaced by the Hun en- gineers. In a few places our men did get through, however, and it seemed that there the victory was to be ours.
Our work was not satisfactory, however. We could see very little of the fight for the reason that we had to cover much space and 183
THE FLYING FIGHTER
were hardly ever able to follow an operation to its conclusion. It was also impossible to gain mnch of an impression on the general situation. And generally we knew little of the progress that had been made until we re- turned to camp. The commanding officer of the squadron was not satisfied with our work. He complained that our message bags were going all over the country and he also had fault to find concerning an unfinished mes- sage which I had sent to headquarters by wireless. I was in the act of sending the mes- sage when my aerial was shot away, cutting my message in half. I dropped part of the message I had sent there and then, and it was picked up at headquarters. The other half of the message which I sent had not been received, as I had lost my aerial.
Knowing that the second half of the mes- sage was of great importance, the pilot and myself risked our lives by a dive down to within fifty feet of the ground so that we might drop a message bag at a station which was in a garden quite well enclosed by trees. As the machine rose again it came within a few inches of running into a balloon cable 184
THE BIG PUSH
which we had not noticed. The cable was so thin that it was ahnost invisible until we were a few feet away from it. Nevertheless, we were reprimanded for running needless risks.
The officers along the Somme front were in no pleasant humor in those days. It was im- possible to get a civil word from any of them, and everybody seemed bent upon taking it out on the other feUow. Everybody was be- ing overworked and the strain, together with the anxiety as to what the result would be of this offensive, began to affect the disposi- tion of everybody. So many preparations had been made for the work in hand and so much seemed to depend upon its successful conclusion that officers and men alike thought of nothing but the engagements that were going on. The slightest mistake on the part of anybody was usually magnified many times, until the culprit was sure that he was a criminal.
The Huns meanwhile were bringing down a good many Allied aviators. Two of the best men of our squadron were killed. One of them, Little" Jowett, the smaller of two brothers of that name and a chap whom 185
THE FLYING FIGHTER
everybody liked very much, was shot down by the Huns while taking photographs behind their line. Poor old Stoddard was hit by a Hnn machine gnn from the ground, and he and his observer were killed in the crash. These were things that caused us to think hard, and many of us lost our care-free ways and began to wonder when it would be our turn.
One day I went up in the afternoon and did some very hard work. Some of our troops had managed to get into parts of Hunland and had to be carefully covered there. It was even harder out there to get messages into the proper hands. Knowing what it was to be in the trenches with the infantry, and feeling that Tommy Atkins needed all the assistance I could give him, I set about my duties with a will.
I realized how important it was to get my messages to headquarters where they could be acted upon. It was often a question of saving many lives. That kept my nerves high-strung during the four hours that I was on patrol. I was in the habit of putting my pencil in my mouth while using the wireless 186
THE BIG PUSH
key, and discovered this afternoon that I had chewed it completely to bits.
At about four o'clock that afternoon I got a message from some of our men who were tied up in a small section of German trench and were being shelled there in addition to being machine gunned. They were in so tight a fix that they could go neither forward nor backward, while the Germans were swarming around them like bees around a hive. The message I picked up from the ground said that they were being held in by machine gun fire.
I could see that a Hun gun emplacement with six guns, all working at the same time, was causing the isolated group underneath me as much trouble as machine guns possibly could. So I sent a message to headquarters with a map reference of the location of the German guns and waited for developments.
I was soon rewarded with a sight which I shall never forget. Within five minutes of the time that I had flashed back my message, one of our batteries was putting into the German emplacement shells that hit the very spot. Next morning I had a good look at the place 187
THE FLYING FIGHTER
bnt found nothing but a lot of shell holes and a few lifeless gray forms on the ground.
That day again we worked until darkness made it impossible to pick up messages from the ground. But even after that the fighting continued. The heavy detonations of the large guns and the explosion of the big shells kept up a fearful racket. As I soared aloft it seemed to me that all the world had gone crazy. The very air trembled and as far as the eye could reach was seen the flash of gun and shell. The powder fumes kept drifting over the ground. They were first illumined by the rays of the setting sun and later by the star shells. The scene was most spec- tacular.
Meanwhile the ambulances were rushing back and forth from advanced position to the field dressing stations, and later others took up the work clearing these stations by taking the wounded men to the rear. That work continued all night, and it was only then that we began to realize the heavy sacrifices that were being made by the men who wenf over the top.
That sort of thing went on for days and 188
THE BIG PUSH
nights without interruption. It seemed to us that the work was piling up faster than we could attend to it. There was no limit to what the officers in charge demanded of their subalterns and men, and every nerve was be- ing strained to the utmost. In the past I had gone up only occasionally, as it now seemed to me. But now I was up in the air almost constantly. My machine would hardly land before some orderly would pounce upon us with new instructions. We had barely time enough to eat in peace, and usually our sleep was interrupted at dawn, and very often be- fore that. Few of us succeeded in ever get- ting our clothes off our backs. It was a case of work, work, work, and generally the de- votion one tried to throw into this found little appreciation. At first some of us re- sented this, but finally we came to realize that the strain of responsibility upon the higher officers was such that nothing else could be expected from them.
I found myself at dawn one morning look- ing for a Hun battery which had been doing good work on some of our guns. It was foggy and so I was obliged to stay close to the 189
THE FLYING FIGHTEE
ground, but I managed to get across the Hun advance positions without trouble and soon ran into their Archie'* batteries. That caused my pilot to go up. The fog between ourselves and the ground made observation almost impossible, but as good luck would have it I finally located the battery that had done the damage. I communicated with one of our batteries, which had the location of the enemy battery, and within a few minutes the Hun had stopped firing. I returned to our aerodrome after that, but was immediately sent off again to do contact control with some infantry organizations that were about to advance. I worked at this until 10 :30 in the morning and then returned to the squadron. After an hour or so I started on volunteer reconnaissance. We were to find some of our infantry who had gotten into the Hun lines and had not been heard from since. The men had been lost on the preceding day and it was a question whether they could still be suc- cored. I took many a risk scouting up and down the sectors in which the men in question had been lost, and finally was lucky enough to find them.
190
THE BIG PUSH
Upon my retnrn I was sent on patrol duty, looking this time for a German machine gun emplacement which had made itself very much disliked. But to find a well-screened machine gun position is not so easy. I had considerable trouble seeing anything from the elevation I was flying at and finally de- scended to about seventy-five feet. Mean- while, my plane had attracted the attention of the Huns and their shells were bursting all around me. It was very difficult under these conditions to observe anything, but I had an idea where the machine guns were located. I went over the ground a good many times, but seemed unable to get the exact position. My patrol period came to an end before I had found the machine guns, but my relief, to whom I gave whatever information I had gathered, discovered that the guns had been placed in the cellar of a building that had been razed by artillery fire. The infor- mation was flashed back to a battery, and within a very little time that Hun machine gun emplacement was no more.
When the position had been silenced, the observer took a photograph of the scene and 13 191
THE FLYING FIGHTER
upon examination it was found tliat eight machine gnns had been hidden in the cellar. Since each of these guns could fire as many as six hundred shots a minute and do terrible havoc, the haul had been a good one.
At 3:30 that afternoon I had another as- signment— contact patrol with the infantry. Everything at that front was in such a tur- moil with shell fire and smoke that I was able to see but few features of the ground. All buildings, and in some cases whole woods, had completely disappeared, so that the aerial observers were now obliged to find a new set of landmarks. The buildings and trees which in the past had served as valuable marks to us were gone. We began to realize that in future we would have to be guided by the things which heavy artillery could not carry off — the hiUs, for instance.
While on contact patrol I took messages until seven o'clock that night, when I was re- lieved by another machine. I returned to the aerodrome, made a general report and then tried to eat dinner, but the excitement of the battle had left my nerves in such a con- dition that I could not swallow a morsel. 192
THE BIG PUSH
At 8:30 I was given an order to make a reconnaissance flight over Hnnland. This time I went up with the commanding officer as pilot. We flew over the Hun lines at a very low altitude and approached a little vil- - lage just back of the German positions. Near the village a relief party of Huns was just entering the communication trenches. We were so low that I could take them under fire with the machine gun, and I killed about thirty.
We then started towards the place for which we were bound in quest of the desired information. The trip was quite successful and before long we were sailing over No Man's Land on our return. But we were not home yet. Of a sudden I had the sensation of having been hit on the head with a hanmaer. For a moment I lost consciousness, but seemed to regain my senses immediately.
When I was again in control of myself, I noticed that the engine had stopped. I believe it was that fact which caused me to become conscious again. I looked around at my pilot and saw that his face was covered with blood and that blood had also run over his goggles. 193
THE FLYING FIGHTER
My first thought was that he had been hit, and thongh he was sitting npright in his seat and seemed all right, I made frantic signs to him to start the engine. This he did, for a mo- ment later the propeller began to spin. I fell back into my seat and once more lost consciousness.
When next I regained my senses I noticed that we were flying at a great height. My eyes fell upon a large wood which I recog- nized as one lying immediately behind our lines. I was still wondering why the pilot's face and goggles were covered with blood and was making an effort to slide back to him to find out what the matter was when he mo- tioned me not to stir and stopped the engine, starting immediately gliding gently towards the ground.
**I'll take you down,'* said the pilot.
We had another place to go to and though I was feeling very badly, I thought we might be able to finish the job.
**No, go on,*^ I said.
The pilot did not reply. Instead, he held the nose of the machine towards the ground. Soon it became apparent that the pilot had 194
THE BIG PUSH
reconsidered, for I noticed that we were swinging back over Hnnland. As we neared the ground I saw that some of our men were engaged in consolidating parts of a position they had taken from the Huns.
The men in the trenches waved their hel- mets at US, and jnst then a volley of Hnn bnllets came np through the planes, making a noise like a snare drum as they spilt the canvas. After that we headed for general headquaters where, after making my re^ port, I once more relapsed into uncon- sciousness.
When next I was conscious I found myself in the field dressing station. They were bandaging up my head, and somebody told me that my skull had been fractured by a bullet. I was then given the anti-tetanus treatment and five days later I was an inmate of a hospital on the French coast, the institu- tion in question being presided over by the Duchess of Westminster.
I was operated upon twice and each time pieces of bone had to be removed. I was unconscious the greater part of the time. One morning I awoke in another place and 195
THE FLYING FIGHTEK
learned upon inquiry that I was in a hospital in England and that within a few days I would have to undergo another operation.
The next time I came to my senses I had been operated upon, but found that I could neither hear, see, nor talk. I was very weak, and seemed unable to think rationally. The slightest effort I made at reasoning caused some of the factors which I wished to bring into relation with one another to recede from my grasp. With my senses of sight and hear- ing gone, I had to rely entirely upon my sense of touch. I could feel the nurses doing things around my bed, but aside from that no exter- nal impressions came to me. I tried to make them understand what I wanted, but such ef- forts were unavailing. I supposed nobody could understand the feeble movements of my hands. Though the care that was given me seemed to be a matter of routine, it was, nevertheless, ample.
For two weeks that continued. My bed had meanwhile been placed against the wall in a ward known as the Turner Ward. I felt that windows and doors had been opened for the purpose of airing the room. Sud- 196
HELMET WORN BY AUTHOR WHEN WOUNDED IN THE BATTLE OF THE SOMME, JULY 2, I916
INSIDE OUT, SHOWING WHERE PIECES WENT IN, AND BLOOD
FROM LEFT TO RIGHT: BLXLET LODGED IN GASOLINE TANK AT THIRTY- SIX HUNDRED FEET. SHRAPNEL BALL WHICH WENT THROUGH CAR- BURETER AT TWENTY THOUSAND FEET. TAPPET ROD WHICH BURST AT SEVEN THOUSAND FEET. BULLET WHICH STRUCK AUTHOR IN SIDE
THE BIG PUSH
denly a door near me was shut with a bang. I did not hear that bang, of course, but I felt the vibrations of it, which caused me to jump and as I did this I saw of a sudden two rows' of beds on either side of the room. A nurse was coming towards me.
The same instant my powers of speech re- turned.
As I looked at the nurse the thought came to me that possibly I was mistaken in all this. I had groped about in the darkness so long that I was now doubting the very things I beheld.
"Are you wearing a white apron and a blue dress?" I asked the nurse.
Instead of answering my question, the woman ran o&, and I heard her call a doctor.
Withm thirty minutes I was once more on the operating table.
When the effect of the anesthetics left me I was indeed grateful to discover that the senses which had deserted me for a while were still with me. I could see, hear and talk. These functions were still impaired, I discovered, and for a while I was tortured by the thought that again I might lapse into 197
\
THE FLYING FIGHTER
my former helpless position. Gradually, however, I managed to get them nnder better control, and before long I felt that my physical vigor was also returning.
While at the hospital, I learned a great deal of onr old squadron. Its men had not fared well. Little^' Jowett, I learned, had been accompanied by a corporal gunner when their machine was brought down by the Huns. The gunner had been taken prisoner.
Jimmie, a Canadian chap, had been wounded and it was believed that he would be permanently crippled. Randie had been killed. Old John and his pilot. Captain Burney, two of the best men living, had gone down. **Fat'' Brennan, another Canadian, had been wounded. Davis had suffered shell shock and Bolitho had been killed. Six members of the original squad were still alive; all the others had been taken on their last flight. I also heard that the squadron commander, one of the best in the world, had been promoted to be a wing com- mander.
There is no doubt that war is exactly what Sherman said it was. You see a pal one day 198
THE BIG PUSH
and the next day he is either dead or miss- ing. But often they made mistakes in the casualty list. Once for ten months I was left under the impression that a good friend of mine had been killed. Eeally he had been taken prisoner by the Huns. I met him in a hotel in London, and had some trouble mak- ing sure that he was really the man I knew. The same thing happened to me. My name appeared on the casualty list among the missing several times. Then when I would show up at some aerodrome everybody would wonder why I wasn't dead. The worst of it was that my old mother received cables of my being wounded or killed on five dif- ferent occasions. The trouble in my instance was that in so big a crowd as an army almost any given name is found a good many times ; and then generally somebody has the knack of thinking that the particular Smith or Jones who has been killed is the one he knew. There were times when it was indeed diffi- cult to keep track of one's friends because the casualty lists were so large.
I received the best of care in the English hospitals and in two weeks after my last op- 199
THE FLYING FIGHTER
eration I was able to walk around quite well. After that I started in search of my bag- gage, which had not been delivered to me. Be- fore long I found what was left of it. The thing that hurt me most was that all my good Hun souvenirs had been taken, and I was never able to trace one of them.
CHAPTER XV
LEARNING TO FLY
Upon my discharge from the hospital, I re- ported to the general in charge in England, and he, after reading the report of my case, advised me not to fly any more. It took con- siderable pleading on my part to induce the officer to retain me in the service. But after a heart-to-heart talk, I induced him to let me remain in the Flying Service. For the time being I was to be sent to a school of instruction, where I was to be initiated in the art of operating a machine myself. The course I was to take included the theories of aviation, construction of machine, flight rig- ging, operation, and general flying and me- chanics as applied to air motors. To this was added meteorology and physics, bombing, and such things as wire splicing and the other little odds and ends one has to know in order to keep an airplane in good trim. 201
THE FLYING FIGHTER
I passed the examination easily enongh.
Having had some experience in actual fly- ing and fighting at the front, I was later re- quired to do some lecturing in different classes. Though I had never lectured before and had some difficulty addressing a class, I soon managed to gain some proficiency in this. My lectures covered the work I had done in France, such as observation for artil- lery, contact patrol, and aerial fighting. There was no school of aerial gunnery on the training ground in question, and for that rea- son my lectures interested the students very much.
I found that many of the men at the school were of my turn of mind when I was in Canada. Every one of them wanted to get to the front and fight, and gave little thought to the fact that before a man can fight he must be instructed and trained. Com- ing in contact with this tendency as an in- structor I now began to realize what a trial I must have been in my recruit days.
We had a Scotchman at the school who was of the regular daredevil variety. Discipline meant absolutely nothing to him. There was 202
LEARNING TO FLY
no order that he wonld obey and the result of it was that his troubles never ended.
We had been quartered in an old English Hall. The buildings, laid out on the lines of a TJ, had been erected many centuries ago, I was told, and the lawn in the yard was looked upon as something highly venerable for the reason that it had been planted by the orig- inal owner of the place. The recruits, who were a rather tough lot, had acquired the habit of using that lawn as a playground. To this the present owner objected, with the re- sult that the commanding officer had a sign put up prohibiting trespass on the lawn under a penalty of five shillings for each offense.
McCray, the Scotchman in question, was in the habit of rushing across this lawn whenever he wished to reach the dining-room. He had done this one morning at breakfast. The commanding officer saw him, adminis- tered a stinging reprimand, and wanted to collect the fine. McCray reached into his pockets and finding that he had nothing smaller than a ten-shilling note gave it to the commanding officer with the words:
* 'Here ten bob ! Take it all and I '11 walk 203
THE FLYING FIGHTER
across it once more after I Ve had ma' l?reak- f ast, as I don't want to be late for the first
class, sir."
The conunanding officer warned him, bnt McCray walked across the lawn all the same. There is no doubt that the lot of the officer trainiQg recruits is not the easiest one can imagine.
After passing my examination, I was sent back to France to learn practical flying with the Royal Naval Air Service Squadron. I was gratified to find that it did not take me long before I could handle a machine. I had gained considerable experience in flying as an observer. The machines we had used at the front had a double set of controls, so that observers were able to get their hand in grad- ually. These machines also were fitted with machine guns that did not synchronize with the propeller, and although the observer had to do most of the fighting, there were times when the pHot had to operate the wirelesfe. In this case the observer was entrusted with steering the plane.
I learned how to fly on a Cauldron, a French type of machine with a radial engine of 100 204
LEARNING TO FLY
H.P. and a warp control. After an hour's flight with an instructor, I made my first solo flight — that is, I went up alone. I found that I had little trouble handling the machine, and made a good landing.
On my second flight I tried my best to break the squadron's altitude record, which was then 11,000 feet. I was up for nearly two hours, and reached an elevation of 10,500 feet— when ''bang!" went the revolution counter.
That did not worry me, however. The engine showed no sign of having been im- paired and kept on running. I decided to climb some more.
I was quite a ways above the clouds, in the eternal blue, when all of a sudden the engine stopped. Well, that made a lot of difference. There are no places in the air to which one can throw an anchor, so there was nothing that could prevent my coming down suddenly.
I tried to locate the trouble, but found that keeping the machine on an even keel would occupy me entirely without giving any atten- tion to the motor. I began to dive. It so 205
THE FLYING FIGHTER
happens that a Cauldron has no gliding angle. It glides as gently as a brick.
It did not take me long to fall through the clouds, which, as I had observed going up, were then about 4,000 feet above the ground. I was through that bed of dense and damp mists before I knew what had happened, but I had sense enough to keep my eyes open for the aerodrome or some other convenient spot on which to land.
Just how I would land worried me consid- erably. I wanted to do as little damage as possible. There were hundreds of machines in this aerodrome. Many of them would be standing about the groxmd and others might be on the wing.
Fortunately, no machines came into my path. I took a curve to one side of the aero- drome and made ready for the long glide that was to get me to the ground. I was near- ing the ground at a great speed when I no- ticed the ''skipper" waving his arms like a madman. I thought that he wanted me to steer away from some machine near me and in my haste to obey his orders I turned right towards the officer. That caused him to cease 206
LEAENING TO FLY
shouting and waving his arms. He started to run across the aerodrome as fast as any- body ever did run, with me and my faithful chariot just two steps behind him. The way that skipper covered territory was a sight to behold. Well, the machine lost its mo- mentum and then the commanding officer risked coming near us.
He seemed speechless. All he could do was to shake a wrathful fist at me. He was red in the face. But presently speech came to him, and then I heard what he thought of me. That good man called me every name in the calendar and a few others that are generally included in the category known as From Hell to Breakfast. He did all this without using any punctuation. The skipper was an old salt and knew exactly how to do it.
He left me with the remark that I would be under arrest for two weeks — as I was. But that did not bother me any. All life at the front and behind the front was like being in jail anyway. We had come to the point where we could visit the girls no longer and even in the guardhouse one might shake poker dice, 207
THE FLYING FIGHTER
the only recreation that was now left to ns.
Bnt playing poker with French cards is not so simple. The Kings and Jacks looked Tery much alike and are identified only by the initials of their French proper nonns. For that reason we took to dice. I was not the only one in that guardhouse. There was a Canadian chap named Cameron. He was as good-hearted as they make them. Cam, as we called him for short, did not know the value of money at all and certainly loved to gamble.
The two weeks under arrest passed quickly enough and then our training was continued. Cam and I started out one morning to do solo work. The weather was rather muggy so that we could not be seen from the ground after we had gone up a short distance. We made up our mind to have a little vacation that day. When we were quite sure that the skipper could not tell where we were, we sailed to a little French town about twenty miles away. We knew that there was land- ing ground near by, and for that reason we ^could risk it.
208
LEAENING TO FLY
We landed all right but began to donbt if the weather would stay what it was. If it cleared up that skipper would look for us up in the blue welkin, and then there would be trouble. But we had some money in our pockets and wanted to eat a regular dinner. To get that we had to go down the main street of the town to find a restaurant.
After much hunting we found one. "We must have been the first English officers that ever ate in the place, to judge by the conduct of the proprietor and his waitress. The girl made it her business to pull back the curtains at the window so that the people passing by could see the distinguished patrons of the restaurant. The meal they served us was good. To show that we had a little money in our pockets, Cam and I picked up two ragged little girls and took them to a store where we dressed them up from shoes to hat. That made quite a sensation. The idea was Cam's, and he was certainly pleased with himself that it had been carried out.
We were lucky that the weather had re- mained hazy. We got into our machines and made off, but took great care that on ap- 209
THE FLYING FIGHTER
proaching our aerodrome we were well out of sight. The skipper was waiting for us on the ground and seemed quite pleased that we were such good students.
WeU, poor old Cam did not last so very much longer. He went to the front, and before he left he told me that he had a feeling that he would never get back. I tried my best to get that notion out of his head but did not succeed. A little while later I saw his name in the casualty lists under: Killed in Action. How the Huns got him in the air I never found out. He had been over the top on many occasions with the Canadians in the north of France and had never been touched, and he had proved to be a very skil- ful pilot.
Cameron, by the way, had the habit of call- ing the French 'Spuddle jumpers," on account of their excitability. At mess one day the skipper asked him why it was that the average Frenchman became excited so easily.
Cameron had considerable Irish wit.
''Well, sir,'' he said, "they all love their Paris, and no doubt it is a wonderful city, and I guess there is not a Frenchman in 210
LEAENING TO FLY
France who has not seen Paris. They get their excitement from dodging taxicabs in Paris, and as there are a lot of puddles in the streets of Paris, hence the name of * pud- dle jumpers,' which I have given them/'
The Cauldron machine in which I contin- ued to fly got on my nerves after a while. It was very hard to make good landings with it. One day the skipper told me that I was to land as close to the sheds as possible. I said that I would do so, and, after having had a good ''flip" up in the air, I came down with the skipper's instructions still in mind. He was watching me. I was going to make a particularly good landing. When the wheels of the bus hit the ground for the first time, a hard bump came of it, and the fine plan I had made was thrown out of gear. Close by the place where I had intended to land stood another machine. The bump had somewhat changed the 'direction of my plane, and since I was still going at a speed of about thirty miles an hour I feared that I would crash into the other machine.
There was only one way of preventing that ; I would have to go up again. I pulled the 211
THE FLYING FIGHTER
tlirottle of tHe motor to a ninety-mile clip, to the great astonishment of the skipper, who had fully made up his mind, it seems, that I was going to break up everything. He grew wildly excited, but I did not mind him. In- stead I opened the throttle some more and then zoomed" over the machine and the shed beyond.
I was still zooming" when I saw the trees behind the shed; they were about three times as high as the shed itself. It was a case of either getting over or crashing into them. To get over the trees I thought impossible. There is no machine that would rise that much in the short distance that lay between my machine and the tree tops.
The only thing to do to avoid a very bad spill was to have more speed. I opened the throttle still more, with the result that the machine began to want to dive. To overcome that I pulled her nose up, increased my speed again and pulled into the final **zoom."
As I did this I got a glance of the skipper and several of the instructors, who were rush- ing around, wildly watching what I was do- ing. I just got over the tree tops by a hair. 212
LEARNING TO FLY
Of course it was as good as a mile, but very dangerous. After all, a Hun is a Hun and always does funny things. RigM then and there I promised myself a month in the guard- house, and the thought put a rather peculiar notion into my head. If I had to go to the guardhouse for a month I wanted to give them good cause for it.
Near the aerodrome was a railroad track and just then a train was coming along it. It was against all rules and regulations to chase trains or dive at engine drivers. But I went after this one and put the wind of my pro-- peller down the back of his neck. After that I raised Cain with some cattle in a field nearby and then I started back for the aero- drome.
The skipper had been waiting for me. It was getting dark and I was the only man who had been up and who had not returned. This time my landing was more successful. It was a landing of the sort the skipper liked.
I rolled right up to the shed, switched off,, and climbed out. I stood at attention ready to take my medicine.
213
THE FLYING FIGHTER
But I nearly dropped in my tracks when the skipper began to speak.
''My boy,'' he began, ''you had us all frightened to death. We thought you would never get over those trees. You made the record 'zoom,' but our hearts were up in our throats all the time. It was a great piece of flying, but for God's sake don't ever do it again. You will report in the morning at my office."
I spent a very uncomfortable night, being constantly plagued by speculation as to what the skipper wanted me for.
Though the old man had given no sign of being angry, I feared that he had calmed down while I was chasing the train and the cows, but had not forgotten.
I reported in an uneasy frame of mind. But the very first words of the skipper showed that if he had not forgotten he at least was willing to overlook things. Pres- ently he convinced me that he was really kindly disposed towards me. I was to go to Paris and fly some machines to the squadron. That was good news. I would be able to live in Paris off and on, and right there I made 214
LEARNING TO FLY
up my mind that I would square everything and see if I could not hold that job for a long time.
I flew three machines to the school with- out anything happening, but I was not so lucky with the fourth.
Leaving Paris in the direction of our aero- drome one has to fly over a forest which offers no opportunities at all for landing. It is a thirty-minute trip across that stretch of ground, and I was in the habit of flying high so that in case anything should happen to my machine I would have room enough to glide down into a field outside the woods.
I was over that forest with my fourth ma- chine when of a sudden my engine stopped. I began to glide and looked for an open spot in which I could land. Finally my eyes fell on what I was looking for.
As seen from above, the spot I had selected appeared to be a lawn, but as I came nearer to it I began to see hop poles; however, I was now so low that I had to continue. I landed slap-bang in that hop field and the mess I made of those little poles for a dis- tance of about one hundred feet was great. 215
THE FLYING FIGHTER
But the machine was a mess as well. The poles had gone through the planes and through the body— through everything, in fact. A couple of them had gone through my clothing. I pulled them out and then I climbed out of the car to review the remains of what once had been a perfectly good aeroplane.
Presently the owner of the field came out with a gun. He wanted to know what I was doing in his field. I explained to him that I had had engine trouble, and that he could make out a bill of damages then and there for me to sign. This he did. The man then helped me get the machine into an open field, but before we succeeded in doing that more damage had been done to the hops. It was a day's job and it was dark before we got the bus out.
After that I had to telephone my command- ing officer and tell him of the accident, and have a wrecking lorry sent to my assistance. He said he would send some men and a wrecking lorry.
We dismantled the bus, loaded her on the lorry and took her to the aerodrome.
The chances that I would lose my assign- 216
LEAENING TO FLY
ment in Paris seemed very good. But the skipper was nice about it. Instead of firing" me peremptorily he sent me back.
On the next trip I had an excitable French sergeant, who insisted that I should take him to another flying school. It was only sixty miles out of my way so I consented. But it seemed like waiting for Christmas before we arrived at the aerodrome at about 5:30 in the afternoon. The weather was raw, and I thought I would warm myself while the mechanicians were busy filling the gasoline tanks of my machine. Before I was ready to start it was too dark. I would have to stay over night in that camp, and since I could find no accommodations there I decided to go into a little town nearby. Some of the French flying men were staying there.
I met them. They had never- met a khaki flying officer before and insisted upon enter- taining me. I was wined and dined and had a splendid time all around. I reached the aerodrome of the squadron without trouble, but found that another man had been sent to Paris to take my place. I was to fly south to another school with a bus. On returning from 217
THE FLYING FIGHTER
the southern school I was sent to Paris to fly a French machine back to our school. I met boys at the school who pleased me very much. I received my railway warrant which passed
me free on any train going from A
to Paris, and with my haversack containing my shaving tackle and clean collars and pa- jamas, I started off. I reached Paris about 9 at night on a pitch black night, which was made worse by a nice, heavy rain ; so with the idea that the weather wonld not be fit for fly- ing the next morning, I started out to see the sights. I took in the Follies and the Alham- bra and then went to my hotel.
I did not put in a call to be awakened at any special time, feeling sure it would be raining in the morning. I slept like a log.
At 9 :00 in the morning I was rudely torn from my dreams and presented with a wire which came from my Squadron commanding officer stating that I must be home as soon as possible. I looked out of the window and though the rain had stopped, the sky was heavy and the clouds were low. But orders are orders. I decided to fly the machine back as soon as possible.
218
^i^AENINa TO FLY
With this in mind I called up the French aircraft park and told the officer in charge to have the machine ready as I was coming right down to fly it away. I then called up the Paris Naval station to send a car down to take me out to the park. In the interval of waiting I dressed, had breakfast, and when the car rolled np to the hotel door I was ready.
As I got into the car it was jnst starting to rain, and by the time we got out to the flying grounds it was pouring again. On ar- riving I put on my flying clothes and asked where my machine was. I was taken to it and on examining it found it to be wet through.
I had made up my mind to fly away that morning at all costs, so as soon as the rain showed signs of letting up, I climbed into the bus, found a couple of mechanics and started to try to get my engine working.
The French way of starting an engine is quite different from ours. Our mechanics would shout:
''Switch off, petrol on, air closed, suck in!'' and after a good charge of gasoline vapor 219
THE FLYING FIGHTER
had been sucked in by turning the propeller by hand, they would shont :
Contact!" whereupon the pilot applied the switch.
They wonld then give the propeller a pnll over nntil they felt a cylinder on compres- sion. Giving the propeller a smart pull now, the cylinder wonld be forced over compres- sion, and, getting the required spark, the engine would start.
But the French had ways of their own, and it took us about an hour to start the engine, which would only hit on about half its required cylinders. I had to shut down and have it looked over and after another hour we got it started again.
The motor was not all that could be de- sired in the way of a smooth running engine, but I decided to take a chance on it. I had mapped out the course I was going to take and put my map alongside the seat where it would be handy.
I taxied to the far end of the aerodrome and got into the wind, which was coming right over the top of the hangars, and took off, when, without any warning, my engine 220
LEAENING TO FLY
stopped. I was about fifty feet off the ground. Not being a balloon I had to come down and I could not turn as I hadn't enough height. There was nothing to it but land on top of the hangars, and I did.
The roofs were made of canvas and I flew for a center beam which I thought would bear the weight of the machine. I miscalculated, however, and landed between two of them. It was all done so fast that I did not have time to get scared, and before I knew it I was pinned upside down underneath the ma- chine and inside the hangar. The ^ings of the machine had been left on top and I came on through with the fussalage of the machine, which had turned while coming through the roof and landed on its back vrith me under- neath. The gang of workmen saw the fall and rushed over, rolled the machine over to its natural position and pulled me out. I had had my right shoulder bruised some- what, but it did not hurt very much.
I reported to the officer in charge, vdth. the log books of the machine. He asked me if I were still set on flying away and on my an- swering *^yes," he gave me the books for an- 221
THE FLYING FIGHTER
other machine. This one was dry. We had no trouble starting the engine and I was mighty glad when I found myself about five thousand feet over the aerodrome.
I was not even then done with my hard luck, for, on getting about forty miles from the 'drome, I ran into a rain storm. In order to dodge it I had to fly about twenty miles in a roundabout way. I eventually got back into my proper course, but I had gone along for only an hour, when I was driven to within a hundred feet of the ground by fog. I could not see two fields ahead of me, but bent upon getting to the squadron as soon as I could, I kept on flying. Soon I had lost my way, so that I had to steer by my compass.
I wanted to reach my destination as quickly as possible, but when my gasoline ran out I had to land, and when I did I found I was fifty miles out of my course. My compass had not been swung to the machine and was useless. I obtained some gasoline and oil and as soon as the fog lifted I got under way again, after being tossed around by the bumps that prevail after rains. I finally came in sight of the naval aerodrome. I was mighty 222
LEAENING TO FLY
thankful the trip was over, as my right shoul- der, which seemed to be getting worse, was beginning to hurt badly, and I was thankful to climb on board a good old train and start for home.
When I returned from this eventful trip I was sent to England to take a post-gradua- tion course prior to going on active service in France. I reported and was detailed to a squadron in the north of England.
There I met old Beaw, a chap with whom I had been an observer in the first squadron I was with in France. A Yank named Ham from Toronto and a few others made up the greatest squadron I had ever been in. They were always happy and had a commanding officer who was one of the boys and who knew the flying game, having been decorated with the French Legion of Honor and English military crosses. He was an Oxford *'blue" and a member of a famous Oxford eight— a gentleman of the highest order.
Within a short time I had flown every war type of machine they had in the place. I perfected myself in dropping bombs and learned how to take photographs. 15 223
THE FLYING FIGHTEE
It was at this camp that I took my first solo flight at night. I had been up at night before as a gunner in France, and had some idea what it was like to fly in the dark. Three of lis were to go up that night ; I was the second.
The ronte was once aronnd the aerodrome, then land and go np again for another turn aronnd the aerodrome.
The man who was to be No. 1 had no trou- ble carrying out this program. The flares were up and so arranged as to show the wind direction.
It got to be my turn. In flying at night, and reasonably close to the ground, the avi- ator can make out woods, roads, lakes and rivers, and the lights in houses. Going up and flying is a simple matter, but coming down in the dark is quite a different thing. The last twenty-five feet of the descent is usually made with nerves on edge. It is impossible in the night to judge distance to the ground and careful judgment is needed to avoid a pile-up.
Night flights in this aerodrome had on pre- vious occasions resulted in the **crow act in the hedge,'' as we call it, when a man lands 224
LEAENING TO FLY
his machine on top of a tree. I wished to avoid that, if possible, and surveyed the sur- roundings of the aerodrome carefully before I went up.
The first spin around the aerodrome and the first landing were made in very good form. But while going around the second time my engine started to cut out and I came near making a forced landing on the roof of the sheds.
There were a few other stunts I had to do and then I was given my graduation certifi- cate and my wings. That meant that I had to take down my flying *'0,'^ which stands for observer.
CHAPTER XVI
STUNTS AND ACCIDENTS
I HAD hoped that I would be sent to France immediately, but instead of that I was made an instructor. There were all classes of men in my group. Two of them were particularly interesting. One of them was an Irishman and the other a Scotchman. The men of the squadron looked upon them as '*nuts."
The Irishman had been flying slow buses and when put on a fast one threatened to hurt himself. However, the instructor had patience with him, as he was a decent fellow. After about two weeks of dual instruction, he was sent up solo, being warned to be careful and to put on proportionate bank and rudder while making a turn. He was further in- structed not to stay up any longer than twenty minutes.
The Irishman started off and flew straight- ways from the aerodrome towards the coast. 226
STUNTS AND ACCIDENTS
The instructor waited and waited and after a while became anxious. The twenty minutes were up and there was no sign of the Irish- man. There was nothing to do but to start after him.
But Copper, as the Irishman was known on account of the color of his hair, could not be found. I was wondering what had hap- pened to Copper when an orderly rushed into my room of a sudden and said that some- body wanted to speak on the telephone to the instructor who had gone after Copper. I went to answer the telephone.
**HeUo, who's this?" I shouted into the receiver.
**This is the commander of destroyer so and so," came the reply.
**I want to inform you," he went on, *^that I picked up a man out at sea, flying machine No. 2464- A. I found him ten miles out. He says he is known in the camp as Copper."
^*Is he hurt?" I asked.
*'No, he's thawing out down in the engine room and drinking rum. You had better send transportation for him and his machine. Good-bye."
227
THE FLYING FIGHTER
Meanwhile Copper's instructor had come down and I told him what had happened. We had to send transportation to Copper, and when the commander of the destroyer was finally relieved of his unexpected company he found he missed Copper's Irish wit very much.
On the following day Copper turned up. His instructor gave him a rather warm re- ception.
**What in the name of blazes were you try- ing out at sea, anyway?" he asked.
**Well," said Copper, **once I got up I forgot what you told me, and when I tried to turn the damn thing I landed in the sea."
**What did you go out to sea for?"
**Well," remarked Copper, **I thought that in case I did come down it would be a softer place to land, and the only mistake I made was that I went out too far before try- ing to turn."
The Scotchman, in trying to have a look at his native land while up in the air, had his first landing in the Scotch hills owing to engine failure. He called us up on the tele- phone and I was sent out to get his machine. 228
STUNTS AND ACCIDENTS
I took a lorry, knowing the funny things these Huns of ours hit, having been one myself,^ and when I got up to that machine it was just hanging between two trees which kept it from falling over a cliff.
Two hundred feet below that cliff was a waste of rocks, and yet the Scotchman had the nerve to tell the commanding officer that he had made a good landing. It was a good landing, all right. I had to dismantle the bus and carry it to the road and take it home on the lorry.
Oh, we had some merry times in that squad- ron. One of the instructors used to go out over the town every morning and loop over a monument in the main street. It never oc- curred to him that this might give the towns- people heart failure ; however, he had to have his fun.
Before getting off on this particular morn- ing, the machine of the instructor, while taxi- ing across the ground, had picked up consid- erable mud and grass with its tail skid. The mud stayed there all right and while the instructor was making his customary loop it fell off, crashed through the skylight of a 229
THE FLYING FIGHTER
large store and caused much consternation. The funny part of it was that the owner of the store thought the flyer had done it on purpose. He made a report to the Govern- ment and we received an order not to fly over that town again unless it was absolutely necessary.
Our friend Copper did honor to his name one day by coming in over the sheds too low and putting his tail skid through one of our skylights. In doing that he broke the glass of the skylights and it fell on two buses and cut them up considerably. Not satisfied with that, Copper took away the flagpole, carried off the flag, and smashed his prop doing it. Then he landed, calmly got out of the bus, picked up the flag and flagpole, and walked up to an orderly whom he ordered to put the things back in place.
Scottie was flying along the railroad one day, chasing the Scotch express, which was traveling at the rate of sixty miles an hour. He was trying to put the wind up the back of the engineer by swooping over the engine. That was all right, but the trouble was that Scottie forgot there were telegraph 230
STUNTS AND ACCIDENTS
wires on the other side of the track. He slam- banged into them and wrecked this line of communication for three days. As a result of this fine exploit more drastic orders about low flying were issued.
After that we went further away from the 'drome when we wanted to do stunts. Not far from the aerodrome were a number of shooting estates. We would picket men with shotguns on the edge of the 'drome and one of us would fly over the ground and woods to scare up game, which consisted for the greater part of pheasants, partridges and hares. The snipers would do the rest. It was good fun until Eobinson, a young pilot, had engine trouble and landed in the middle of a little wood on the estate. We had to cut a road through the trees to get the machine out. It cost the Government real money to get that machine back.
After that the men higher up put their foot down and stopped our little hunt. But being full of spirit the boys had a lot of fun anyway crashing around in the atmosphere. Some of them used to leave camp with the statement that they were going to tea some- 231
THE FLYING FIGHTER
where, and then we wonld not see them for two days. Ham and I went np quite a num- ber of times to see a friend of ours, who was running a little Government saw-mill in the hills. That boy had the finest and most expert taste for good Scotch ever given any man. At first we visited him occasionally only, then we called upon him once a day, and later we saw him twice a day. The reason for our trips into the hills we kept secret for a long while, until we met our friend in town one night. "We were careless enough to introduce him to some of the boys and in the course of the conversation they learned why we were so fond of the Government saw-mill.
Before long it was difficult to find an air- plane in the aerodrome. In fact, we were seriously considering transferring the estab- lishment to the saw-mill. Then the com- manding officer was permitted to share our secret and another diversion of ours had to be abandoned.
One by one the little stunts that used to make life on the training aerodrome so very interesting were lopped off. A general order came forbidding any pilot to do stunts at ele- 232
STUNTS AND ACCIDENTS
vations less than 2,000 feet. But we made up for that in other ways.
It was on a Sunday afternoon when I was called to the orderly room of the command- ing officer's office. I was told that I was to leave next morning by the 11:30 train for Glasgow, Scotland, whence I wonld proceed to a little town jnst ontside and receive a ma- chine of the type known as BE2E. I was to fly that machine to a point in the South of England and was to take with me on my trip a chap named Atwood, known in the aero- drome by everybody as *^Af
We canght the train, changed at Edin- burgh, and found that we had some time to spare before we could get the train for Glas- gow. The two of us decided that we would have a look at the town and we did so. We found the place quite interesting and were walking down Princess street when of a sud- den we heard a roar, and, looking up, we be- held an aeroplane known as a Eumpty type, flying at about fifty feet above the ground. It was flying over the street, but I don't know yet what the couple of British Huns in it were trying to do. The machine in question is 233
THE FLYING FIGHTER
large and slow and flies steadily enough. At one end of the street there is a square and in that square stands a monument. The Eumpty '^zoomed" over it and missed its top by a few inches. Then it went on. We learned after- wards that the machine had landed some- where further down the street. Cold shivers ran down my back while I was looking at the foolhardy stunts of the men in the machine, but the people looking on were impressed only by the daring of these bold British birdmen.
Arriving at Glasgow that night we called up the aerodrome and let the commanding officer know that we had arrived. Next morning an automobile called for us and we were taken to the aerodrome, which lies near the factory where these machines are made.
**At" and I got into the machine we were to take south, though neither of us liked the looks of the weather. A storm was coming up, but rather than lose time we decided to go over the tops of the clouds.
Before we had gotten beyond the clouds we were up 10,000 feet and it certainly was cold up there. After that we headed for the hills in the south and we had to go up a little more 234
STUNTS AND ACCIDENTS
in order to have enough gliding room in case something should happen to the machine. I have always found it the best policy to fly as high as possible when using a machine whose knacks and tricks I am not familiar with. The prospect of landing in those snow- covered hills did not appeal to us.
I froze a toe and part of my nose, but aside from that nothing happened. The machine was safely delivered at our aerodrome. We had lunch and got thawed out, and then started up again to take the buses on to their destination. We had gone quite a way south when more trouble came. We ran into a fog. Ground fogs are the worst enemy of the avia- tor. In addition to blotting out the marks by which he steers, they also make it impossible for him to find suitable landing places in case of necessity. No pilot likes to fly in a fog, but when he has to he generally holds close enough to the ground to enable him to see at least a little.
In a long distance flight we generally go over the top of the fog and then find our bearings by means of the compass and the timing of the speed we are making.
235
THE FLYING FIGHTER
But we were not so very far away from the point at which we were to land the ma- chines to be refilled with gas and oil, and for that reason going to the top of the fog was out of the question. I hugged the ground as closely as possible and in so doing made as a first discovery that there are large manufacturing towns somewhere in the middle of England. I was going along at low speed when suddenly there loomed up before me, out of the fog, something that caused my heart to stop beating. Right in front of me stood a large and tall factory chimney.
I turned to the right to avoid it, but I had hardly done that when I was close to another chimney, which was directly in my path. Once more I turned. But before I had gone very far I was up against another chimney. I turned again; another chimney. I decided to see if I could not get out of the forest of chimneys by going in the other direction, but that too had the same result — ^more chimneys. For the next and longest ten minutes I ever experienced I described circles and half-cir- cles around chimneys with the machine now 236
STUNTS AND ACCIDENTS
on her nose, then on her tail, when not on her side. I finally reached what I thought an open place and then decided to go over the top of the chimneys.
One of my reasons for staying so close to the gronnd was that I wanted to keep in sight of the railroad track which had served as my guide. The weather was so thick that I could not see two fields ahead of me.
When I came close to the ground again after sailing over the chinmeys I found that I had lost the railroads, as well as At and his bus; for I afterwards found out that he had landed some 20 miles behind to avoid risks.
There was no use in going on, because, for all I knew I might run into more chimneys and not get off so luckily the next time. With that in mind I decided to land in the first open field I came to. I came to one be- fore long and landed. Soon hundreds of peo- ple had gathered around the machine and amused themselves by writing their names on its planes with lead pencil. One yokel was enterprising enough to cut a piece out of a strut with his knife. I had a hard time fight- ing these souvenir hunters, and I am sure that 237
THE FLYING FIGHTER
they would have carted off the machine bodily had it not been for an of&cer of the law, known in England as Bobby, who came and helped me stave off the memento-hungry mob.
The officers told me that there was an aero- drome five miles down the road. From the minute directions he gave me I gathered that I would be able to make those five miles de- spite the fog.
I had some trouble getting that mob out of the way, but succeeded in the end. I started the motor, asked some of the men to hold the machine back until I should signal them to release it, and then climbed in. I taxied to the other side of the field to get into the wind. The crowd closed in behind me and when I turned around to take off, the onlookers scampered to the sides of the field. I opened up the throttle and was just getting off the ground when a little girl rushed out in front of the machine, which was then going about sixty miles an hour.
The only way to save the girl's life was to take a chance on my own neck. Before I knew it I had hurtled over the little girl, missing her by a few inches with the under 238
STUNTS AND ACCIDENTS
carriage of the machine. I was going at such a speed that had she been hit by any part of the machine at all she would have been killed. In getting over the little girl I lost my flying speed and a bus without flying speed is like so much lead. The result was that I crashed into a hedge, smashed my prop to bits, and then the machine landed on its nose in the next field. The motor was making about 2,200 revolutions a minute, and to make things worse the gasoline tanks piled upon it and were ignited. Within a second the entire machine was ablaze. I was caught in some debris of the machine about ten feet away from the part that was burning. But I had sense enough to save my haversack, in which I carried my shaving tackle and my pajamas. I also thought of my stick. Next I seized the pyrene syringe and hurried over to the fire, which I succeeded in putting out. By that time a number of Home Defense Guards had appeared on the scene, though the only thing they found to do was to keep the people out of the field.
I had made a fine mess of it.
After that I made a trip to the nearest i6 239
THE FLYING FIGHTEB
telephone three miles away and called up the wrecking crew of the aerodrome. They were to come np and salve the remains of a per- fectly good BE2E.
This was my first real crash as a full- fledged pilot.
After that I went to a hotel, had a bath, and examined myself for broken parts. But aside from a good shaking up I had suffered no injury. My companion, the haversack, also was in good shape.
Next morning the commanding officer of the aerodrome sent over the wrecking lorry and a crew of students to pick up the odds and ends. Some of the students were Cana- dians and when later we met again at the 'drome they entertained me royally.
I could not leave that aerodrome until word had come from the commander of my squad- ron that I was to be relieved and sent back. But I had to wait a couple of days for my orders, being meanwhile billeted in a hotel in the city. I put in my free time hanging around the aerodrome and watching the boys tearing through the air learning to fly. While doing that I had occasion to find out 240
STUNTS AND ACCIDENTS
that I was not the only one who had done queer things on his first solo trips.
One of the boys at this aerodrome — have forgotten his name — ^was coming over a build- ing about 70 feet high. On one corner of the building there was a small tower on whose top had been placed a weather vane resem- bling a rooster. The apprentice pilot was sailing a little too low, caught the rooster with one of his planes, and went down in the court behind a house a short way off, complete with rooster.
The machine was completely demolished and we thought that the man had surely been killed. The aerodrome ambulance rushed off to the scene of the accident as fast as it could, but the man was found calmly sitting on the wreck of his machine smoking the in- evitable cigarette. There was a smile on his face as he pointed to the rooster.
always did want to see that thing at close range,'' he said, **but I did not want to bring it home with me."
I knew several of the boys at this school and found that they were learning to fly R. E. 8's, a machine that has the reputation of be- 241
THE FLYING FIGHTER
ing very tricky. Its main fault is tHat it is hard to keep from spimiing, much to the dis- comfort of the budding pilot.
I noticed that though the weather was bad and cloudy, it being a raw spring day, there was no let-up in the work of this aerodrome. Pilots were then in great demand in France" and training had to go on in almost any kind of weather.
Venabels, one of the chaps I knew, had just been transferred from the squadron I was attached to. He was now flying an R. E. 8 and seemed quite proud of his accom- plishment. He was going to fly one of these machines to-day, he said, for the special bene- fit of the wing conunander, and started to do so.
He left the ground in pretty good shape and then went straight up. At about 300 feet he tried to turn and then the machine went for a spinning nose dive. Before its pilot could right it again it had hit the groimd and immediately burst into flame. Before we could get to the man he had been burned to death. Accidents will happen, of course, but it made me sick to think about it, for he was 242
STUNTS AND ACCIDENTS
one of my best friends. And I always hate to see them go that way.
Next morning I got into touch with my com- manding officer and he gave me orders to go to another factory for another machine. This time I had a bus of greater power and made a successful trip. After signing the machine over to the receiving squadron I reported to my own squadron and was sent back to the same factory to deliver another machine. This time I had a mechanic with me. In the afternoon we landed at a squad- ron to fill our tanks and get some food. After that we resumed our journey. We had flown about an hour and a half when we were over- taken by a rain-storm. It was getting late and for that reason I decided to land and come down at Melton Mowbray, the world- famed home of English pork pies and fox hunting. We put the machine away for the night and went to a large farmhouse where we were received with open arms and well entertained. The weather being bad, the next day we went fox hunting. I put in a pleasant day on a postage-stamp saddle, and all that night I was sore and slept hardly at all. 243
THE FLYING FIGHTER
It was very windy next day but despite that I decided to finish the trip. The clouds were low.
As we started off I broke a king post on afl aileron, just as I was getting off the ground. I spliced and splinted it and made a success- ful second start, reaching my destination about 3:00 in the afternoon, after a very strenuous trip.
CHAPTER XVII
AIE BATTLES OVER THE LINES
Upon reporting to the park commander, I found that seven of ns, myself included, had been detailed for overseas duty, which meant France, and that we were to take seven ma- chines with us.
I returned to the squadron and on the fol- lowing day the seven of us started. We took with us our mascot, a fox terrier puppy about six weeks old. Pup was wrapped up in muf- flers and fur helmet and, thus equipped, was a passenger in the wireless box in Ham's bus.
Though the weather was bad, we started out, but we had not gone very far before we realized that we would have to fly over the tops of the clouds at an altitude of about 12,000 feet.
It was a splendid sight to see the seven machines, six with two men and one with two 245
THE FLYING FIGHTEE
men and a dog, dodging around the big white peaks of the upper world.
As we sped along we came to a hole in the clouds and peeping down I spied an aero- drome I knew very well. It occurred to me that the gang would like to be taken down there to feed the pup and fill up with juice and oil.
I went down in a nose dive and the others followed suit.
We landed, one after the other, took our supplies and stretched our cramped limbs, and, after feeding the dog with milk, started up again. The hole in the clouds had not closed up meanwhile so we went through it once more.
We had gone about an hour or so when I noticed that my pressure valve was acting queerly. Next the engine stopped.
I began to use the hand pump to keep the motor running until I could get to a place where I could see the ground. But that seemed quite impossible. The speed of the engine was now so low that I was falling anyway, so I stopped and dived downward through thick clouds in a glorious plunge at 246
AIR BATTLES OVER THE LINES
about 140 miles an hour. Then I righted the machine, picked out a field to land in, and began to pump again like mad in order to keep my engine running until I landed. It had been my intention to fix my motor and then join the others. I was hard at work when suddenly I heard above me the whirr of propellers, and, looking up, saw that the other six were coming down also. The field was none too large and I swallowed my heart several times, as they came in to land, but they all got down safely.
While my mechanician was busy on the valves, I consulted my maps to find where we were. I discovered that we were about ten miles from an aerodrome and told the boys that they had better start for it. There was a taU row of trees on the windward side of the field, which we had to ^^zoom" on getting off the field, and once more I swallowed my heart, as they started off, but no accidents happened. By the time the last one was on his wings my engine was running again and I started after them.
At the aerodrome we had something to eat and then we started off again, though it had 247
THE FLYING FIGHTER
begun to snow. The falling snow prevented our seeing very far and before long only three of us were together, the other four having dis- appeared. As we neared F one of the
boys had water trouble and, on landing, he hit a tree and landed on the ground in a crash, nearly killing himself and his mechanician. The others arrived safely.
Upon reporting at the **War House" in London, as we called our general headquar- ters, we were given two days ' leave and then told to return north as ferry pilots. The work of the ferry pilot consists of delivering ma- chines from one part of the country to an- other, such as we had been doing for a short time.
That was a rude shock to us. We had bid our friends in the north good-bye under the impression that we would immediately go to France, and now we were to spend more time trundling machines from one part of the country to another. Well, we did our best to drown our sorrows during these two days^ leave. Finally, our commanding officer gave us a little dinner to help us get over our disappointment. To make sure that none of 248
AIE BATTLES OVEE THE LINES
us would grieve any longer from not being able to go to France he also took us to a show. The same night, flat broke, having en- joyed ourselves, we caught a train for the north and arrived at our aerodrome in the morning, much to the surprise of our friends.
Four days later we received orders to again report at the '^War House," which is located in the *'Big Smoke." On arriving there I met an old Yankee friend of mine and he greeted me with the remark:
^^How do you like the ^Big Smoke,' any- way?"
Ever since then I have associated this name with London.
That man's name, by the way, was Libby. He is a Texan, and, like myself, is fond of adventure. I had been able once to do Libby a favor. Libby had made up his mind to fight for the French, or at least drive a motor truck for them, but the mechanical examiners were not going to take him. I went to the com- manding officer and told him that Libby, though he might not know much about a motor now, was sure to learn quickly, and 249
THE FLYING FIGHTEE
that I would see to it that he made himself a nseful man.
The commanding officer thought it over for a long time and finally let me have 'lAh.'' He proved that he was a clever chap and be- fore long was one of the best drivers. When we went to France Libby was one of the com- pany. We had not been over there long when he fell ill with pneumonia. The weather there did not seem to agree with ns and ' ' Lib ' ' was sent back to England.
When he recovered he was sent back to France with a repair unit, and, when next I met him, he told me he was trying for the Flying Corps. I had just managed to get my own papers for the same corps and told Libby how to go about it. He had action on his petition very soon and became an officer on probation in the Flying Corps shortly after I did. He was sent to a squadron, and during his period of observation he and his pilot shot down ten Huns, for which they each received the military cross. He was later sent back to England to become a pilot, went back to France and shot down ten other Huns. Libby was some fighter, as the saying 250
AIE BATTLES OVEE THE LINES
goes, and lie was soon made a captain; I felt proud to have him for a paL
At the ''War House'' I was informed that I had been assigned to a scout and fighting squadron doing service in France. I would now have another opportunity to fight the Huns.
Arriving in France I was given a machine of the Spad type. I began to fly the machine to discover its moods and tricks, and then had it adjusted to suit my way of flying. My first turn of service at the front as a pilot consisted of patrol work for three days running. It was an uneventful start. On the fourth day I went up again on patrol to 20,000 feet. I was looking for Huns up there, but found none. Since it was very cold I decided to go down a way, and shut off my power.
At the level of 18,000 feet, I found myself sweeping along a very large peak of cloud. Intending to spoil its pretty formation I dived into it, and, coming out on the other side, found myself alongside of a Hun plane of the Albatross type. I had no intimation at all that a Hun was present and I guess he 251
THE FLYING FIGHTER
was in the same position. I suppose he was as much surprised as I was when he saw me emerging from the cloud. That he was sur- prised was indicated by his failure to open fire upon me after coming alongside of him. Neither of us could shoot at the other for the reason that the guns of the machines we were flying were fixed to the machine so that the machine itself has to be pointed.
We were so close together that this could not be done without our ramming one an- other, which both of us had to avoid if we did not wish to crash to the earth together.
The Hun waved at me and I waved at him.
We found ourselves in a very peculiar situation. I was so close to him that I could see with the naked eye every detail of his machine. His face also I could see quite clearly, even to the wrinkles around his mouth.
There was something odd in our position. I had to smile at the thought that we were so close together and yet dared not harm one another. The Hun also smiled. Then I reached down to feel the handle on my pres- sure reservoir to make sure that it was in its 252
AIE BATTLES OVER THE LINES
proper place, for I knew that one of ns would soon have to make a break.
I had never before met a Hnn at such close quarters in the air and though we flew par- allel to one another for only a few minutes, the time seemed like a week. I remembered some of the tactics told me by some of the older and best fighters in the corps, and was won- dering how I could employ them. Finally a thought occurred to me. Two machines flying at the same height are not necessarily on ex- actly the same level, as they keep going up and down for about 20 feet.
I was flying between the Hun and his own lines and I had fuel for another hour and a quarter anyway. I wanted to make sure of this bird, but decided to play a waiting game. We continued our flight side by side.
After a while, however, much sooner than I expected, the Hun began to get restless and started to manoeuvre for position; like my- self he was utilizing the veriest fraction of every little opportunity in his endeavor to out-manoeuvre the antagonist. Finally, the Hun thought he had gotten the lead.
I noticed that he was trying to side-slip, 253
THE FLYING FIGHTER
go down a little, evidently for the purpose of shooting me from underneath, but not far enough for me to get a dive on him. I was not quite sure as yet that such was really his intention, but the man was quick. Before I knew what had happened he had managed to put five shots into my machine, but all of them
missed me.
I manoeuvred into an offensive position as quickly as I could, and before the Hun could fire again I had my machine gun pelting him. My judgment must have been fairly good.
The Hun began to spin earthward. I fol- lowed to finish him, keeping in mind, mean- while, that it is an old game in flying to let the other man think you are hit. This bit of strategy will often give an opportunity to get into a position that will give you the drop on your antagonist. The ruse is also sometimes used to get out of a fight when in trouble with gun jam, or when bothered by a defective motor.
I discovered soon that this precaution was not necessary, for the Hun kept spinning down to the ground. He landed with a crash.
A few minutes later I landed two fields 254
AIE BATTLES OVER THE LINES
away from the wreck and ran over to see the kill I had made.
I had hit the Hun about fifty times and had nearly cut off both his legs at the hips.
There was nothing left in the line of sou- venirs, as the Tommies had gotten to the wreck before I did. I carried off a piece of his props and had a stick made of it. That night we had a celebration over the first Hun I had brought down behind our own line since I became a pilot.
Next day I went out to get another Hun to add to my collection. I was in the act of crossing the Hun lines when, bang! to the right of me came a thud, and my engine stopped. Eevenge, I thought. I volplaned to , the ground, made a good landing in a field just behind our lines, and, 'phoning up the squad, I then had another engine brought out to replace mine.
On my way to the squadron I witnessed one of the greatest air fights I have ever seen. It took place above the cemetery of P .
Three Huns were aloft behind their own lines, and back of them was one of our pa- troling scouts. ^7 255
THE FLYING FIGHTER
The Hun does not believe in coming over OUT lines if he can possibly help it, and gen- erally he will manoeuvre so that any engage- ment will have to be waged over German ter- ritory.
One of our men named Price, who was com- ing in from patrol, was pilot of the scout, which was flying at the same height as the Hun aircraft, about 12,000 feet. Price was well behind the Hun lines when they saw him, and all three of them made for him at once. I happened to be at an artillery observation post, which I had to pass on my way home, and so was able to get a good view of the €ombat.
The foremost of the Huns made straight for Price, and for a minute it looked as though he intended ramming him. The combatants separated again and began to fire upon one another, as the tut-tut-tut of the machine guns told me. Of a sudden one Hun volplaned, while another made straight for Price. I wondered what Price would do, but saw the next moment that he had zoomed" over the second Hun machine, which just then swooped down upon him. While Price was ^^zoom- 256
AIR BATTLES OVER THE LINES
ing/' I noticed that the first Hun was falling to the ground, having either been disabled or killed by Price's machine gun.
Yet within a few moments the second Hun also crashed to earth, and the third was now making for home as fast as his motor would carry him; but Price chased and quickly caught up with him. It was an exciting race. Price was working his machine gun for all the thing was worth, and before long the third Hun went down.
Just five minutes had been required for the fight. When I met Price later I congrat- ulated him. I remember wishing him all the good luck a fellow could have. But that did not help, for within a month he, too, came down in a heap.
The day following the fight I went out on another patrol, and, remembering what had happened on the day before, I decided to go up high before sailing over into Hunland. The Huns were in the habit of being espe- cially hard on our fellows after such an ex- ploit as Price's, and I knew that I would have to keep all of my wits about me that day.
257
THE FLYING FIGHTER
I went np to about 15,000 feet and started across the lines.
I had no trouble getting across Hunland. But the day was fairly clear and the Hun
Archies,'' I soon discovered, were working overtime. The amount of shrapnel ammuni- tion they spent that day was not small. I was about three miles behind the Hun lines, when right ahead of me exploded a woolly bear." It was all black smoke, with a heart of fire and ragged at the edges. When it burst my machine started to do a cake-walk. It seemed to be out x>f control. The racing motor caused such vibrations that I was afraid the machine would fall to pieces. I shut off power quickly and headed home- ward, landing in one of our -advance landing grounds.
The trouble was that one half of a pro- peller blade had been shot away. Otherwise the machine was unhurt. I telephoned for another propeller and was soon up in the air again.
I will admit that I had the greatest respect for the Hun "Archie" batteries. The woolly bear" they had fired at me was 258
AIB BATTLES OVER THE LINES
something new, and it certainly did damage enough when it exploded near a machine. Bnt dnty is duty.
After the mechanics had attached the pro- peller I went up again, 'but shrunk at least six inches when the next woolly bear" ex- ploded quite close to me. I ducked into the cockpit, although it is self-evident that one is no safer in the cockpit than outside. When the machine crashes to the ground the cockpit goes along, since no one as yet has devised any means of anchoring it to a cloud. Though the bus I was flying was a fast one, that Hun
Archie" battery did most creditable work. I must say that much for the Hun, though I hate him like poison.
The Huns were good shots, even at the elevation at which I was flying, where my machine as seen from the ground appeared no larger than a mosquito. I spent a very ex- citing day. The fire of the Hun ^'Archies" had never been as accurate as to-day and those ''woolly bears" seemed to have us all puzzled.
For all that, I had been lucky. When I returned -to the aerodrome it was to learn 259
THE FLYING FIGHTER
that '^Pizzdoodle,'' an old Scotch friend of mine and as fine a boy as ever lived, had been brought down.
Capt. Albert Ball, one of the best pilots in the corps and with more Huns to his credit than any one else, had also been killed. The same fate had overtaken a number of others, many of whom I knew.
I spent a great deal of time that night wondering whether it would be my turn next. I remember looking over my medals and a certain peculiar mascot of mine — a Chinese doll. Life never seemed so imcertain nor so short.
I had to wait next morning for quite some time before I received orders to go on patrol. In the meantime I had learned that the King was coming to inspect our squadron, and I wondered whether I would have to hie myself into the blue just at that time and so be obliged to miss the show. But luck was with me this time and I stayed below.
Presently the King drove up in a car. We were lined up and were looked over by the royal eye. The King shook hands with the commanding officer, chatted with him for a 260
AIR BATTLES OVER THE LINES
while, and then walked down our line. We were presented to him one. by one, and the King had a kind word and a smile for every man.
After the King had addressed the man next to me, the wing commander told him that I was a Yankee; whereupon the King shook hands heartily with me and told me that he was proud of the Americans in the British service.
He asked me how I liked flying, and I told him that I had had no fair chance as yet, having been shot down only twice. The King laughed heartily and remarked that he had no fear for me, that I seemed quite able to take care of myself. He also gave it as his opinion that the United States of America would soon be doing fine work and giving a good account of itself. Then he questioned me as to my length in the service, and ex- pressed the hope that we might meet again.
When the King had left our camp, I started out on patrol with a feeling that something was bound to happen that day. I was rather blue, but I made up my mind that old
Archie,'' back of the Hun lines, was not 261
THE FLYING FIGHTER
going to get me this time if I could possibly h-elp it.
I went up to 20,000 feet, and soon noticed* that there was a fight under way across the Hun lines. I wanted to see what was going on and made for the spot, bnt I had not gone very far before old woolly bear" picked us up. Soon the shells were bursting all around me.
Before long a gang of our men were mak- ing for the scene of the fight and this gave the Hun Archies" every. reason for sending up their woolly bears."
The seventh shell that exploded near me sent a steel fragment into my carbureter. Of a sudden my motor slowed down, and, as usual, I had visions of having to make a forced landing in Hunland.
The piece of the shell had done consider- able damage to the sides of the cockpit, and for a moment I feared that it had smashed some of my control. But that fear was un- grounded, as presently I discovered. My controls were still intact, and for that rea- son I would be able to glide to the ground. I swung my machine into position for a glide 262
SHOT DOWN FROM TEN THOUSAND FEET
A BAD LANDING IN A HEAVY GALE
AIR BATTLES OVER THE LINES
towards our line, and before very long I was at 10,000 feet, with the Hun shells keep- ing close to my track. Some of them ex- ploded a little ahead of me, which is always a bad sign for a descending man. It shows that the Archie" gunners have a good line on the course of the dive, and every next shell may be the last for the man in the machine.
It was bad going on this day. The * 'woolly bears" continued to stand in my way, and I sped through their fumes nearly all the way down. To this day I do not understand how I managed to land, as I finally did, in a con- venient field.
But forced landings keep a man's nerves on edge. With the motor dead the pilot has lost the full power to control the machine when judging his landing place, and gener- ally he reaches the ground at too great a speed to make a safe landing.
On this occasion I hit the ground at a speed of about 55 miles per hour, and had the mis- fortune of being thrown to one side by a bump on the ground which was struck by one of the wheels. The next instant the machine was on its nose, and then turned over on its 263
THE FLYING FIGHTER
back, and more or less smashed. During the somersault I was stunned by being thrown against the instrument board. The result was that I was bruised all over, and had my lip cut, my eyes blackened, and my chin knocked up quite badly. I was unable to get out of the wreckage, and still had to fear that the gasoline, which was spilling from the tanks, would ignite; in which case I would have met the end which a pilot fears most.
After I had been pulled from the wreck, I was given some badly needed attention by a doctor who was passing ; then I went to the nearest telephone and called up the command- ing officer, who had me brought to the aero- drome in a car. He also sent a lorry for the remains of my bus.
That night we had our wing commander for a guest at dinner, and he told me that they were going to send me back to England for a furlough. I wanted to stay, but he thought that it was better that I should rest up a bit, saying if I did not get out now the Huns would soon get me for good. Though I had raised some objection to being returned to England, I was really quite willing to go. I 264
AIR BATTLES OVER THE LINES
have yet to meet the flyer who wants to go back in the air after he has had the necessary nnmber of spills, unless he is out of his mind or has imbibed too freely.
The cumulative effect of accidents in fly- ing is such that in the end the man has to fight his nerves as much as the dangers of the air and the Hun. I have known old pilots who had been on active duty at the front for months and months, and nothing seemed to matter to them any more. For all that, they were gradually falling to pieces. They were keeping up physically well enough, but their nerves were getting away from them, and the moment was bound to come when they would not be able to control them any more.
That state of affairs is easily understood when one stops to consider that nine times out of ten the man going over the Hun lines is shelled. On almost every trip he may have to fight some "Heinie,*' as we call the Ger- man aviator. This means that the man aloft is taking chances every minute. The thing that keeps the man buoyed up is the thought that he has become indispensable to the men fighting on the ground. Without the 265
THE FLYING FIGHTER
airplane, modern military control wonld be impossible. The men in the front trenches rely entirely npon the observer and his pilot for their communication during a fight. The flyers know that, of course, and for that reason strain every nerve to be of service to the boys in the trenches. How valuable the services of the flyer are is shown by the fact that often they succeed in cutting down by fifty per cent, the artil- lery fire of the opponent through spotting" the friendly artillery to the batteries that are doing the harm
I got my route orders next morning and then started for England. Some of the boys envied me that I could go back to old Blighty, and swore that the next time they went out they would take a chance on being brought down by the Hun Archies," who used the
woolly bear" shells.
I am inclined to believe that some of them were as good as their word. Within a short time three of them had been brought down for good, and two others had to land on German territory, where they were made pris- oners of war.
266
CHAPTER XVIII
BACK TO BLIGHTY
TJpoiT my arrival in England I received a week's leave of absence and when it was over I was detailed to a good squadron near the *'Big Smoke.''
My new duties consisted of having to test and ferry to other squadrons and training camps all sorts of buses. That took me all over England and in some cases to France.
I enjoyed that work for a while, but soon discovered that it was very strenuous. I was almost constantly in the air, and the bad sea- son was now on. For a while I was laid up with bronchial pneumonia, an aihnent which has frequently bothered me.
I made an attempt to be transferred to a better climate as instructor, but there were no openings just then.
Three weeks after my discharge from the hospital I went to work with a new squad. 267
THE FLYING FIGHTER
My present detail had another feature which was not welcome to me. I was ex- pected to fly every type of machine which was then being manufactured, and these types were not few in number. The first day in camp one of the pilots, a chap by name of McGurrie, had engine trouble while in a scouting machine, and injured himself in landing. Since just then I was flying the same type of machine I made sure that my motor was 0. K. before leaving the ground. But despite that I had the same sort of accident. A few days later one of the fellows got his machine on its back while up in the air, and had a hard time righting it again. He came near landing on his back, which, of course, would have been the end of him.
It was the duty of the men in the squadron camps near London to participate in the manoeuvres against the Zeppelin raids. Nine- tenths of the alarms were false; but it was impossible to tell the scares from tBe real thing, and for that reason we would go up and patrol around until the **all clear" signal came out. Usually that led to very long flights, which was a hardship in many cases, 268
BACK TO BLIGHTY
for the reason that we used to go up in what- ever clothing we happened to have on when the alarm came in, no time .being taken by us to dress. When the alarm signal came, we had to rush for our machines, jump into them, and then get off without delay of any sort. Some of the alarms came at night, of course, and I have seen men climb into their machines in their pajamas. And pajamas are not quite the thing for a three hours' patrol in the air. It is always cold up there, no matter what the season may be, and the speed of the ma- chine intensifies that cold many times. Many of the men almost froze to death, and often they would land because of that before the ^^all clear'' signal came.
I went up once to an elevation of 14,500 feet. I was up there an hour and a half, and, being above the clouds, had no idea where I was. Of a sudden my revolution counter broke and the air pressure in the gasoline tanks gave out. I shut off the engine and started towards the ground. The machine I was in had a flying speed of about seventy miles per hour. That meant that I would have to keep up good speed all the way down. 269
THE FLYING FIGHTER
The first stratum of cloud I went through was so wet that a lot of it froze to the ma- chine. It was enormously thick, and for all I knew it might hang only a few hundred feet above the ground. There was the chance that I would emerge from it and find myself over the very center of London, which is as poor a landing field as anybody would care to have. As I was going down, the thought of finding a convenient landing spot plagued my mind constantly.
I had plunged down 5,000 feet, so far as my instrument showed me, and was still in that cloud. I had given up all hope of ever getting out of it when suddenly I dived into clear air and saw the ground. The machine I was flying had a small gliding angle, and I would have to find a landing spot quickly. Having ascertained now that I was not go- ing to drop in the city of London, I was much relieved, but I had some trouble, neverthe- less, in discovering a reasonably level space. The machine was plunging towards earth at a terrific speed and I had little time to pick a convenient spot. Nothing upon which my eyes lit seemed to serve the purpose. But 270
BACK TO BLIGHTY
finally I found an open space and decided to settle down upon it. I was sure that a good landing could be made, but such was not the case. In striking the ground the machine turned turtle and was rather badly damaged.
While the machine was turning over, I had presence of mind enough to throw myself out of the cockpit. I landed on my head but suf- fered no injury. To my mind came then a remark made to me by the doctor of the hos- pital to which I was taken after I had been shot in the head in France.
**It is a lucky thing,'' said the doctor, **that your head is of solid ivory, and seven- teen inches thick; otherwise you would have been killed."
There is no doubt that had it not been for the cast iron constitution which I enjoyed prior to enlisting I would have died long ago.
Old Ham also was working on this aero- drome. One day he took up a big bus for a test and while he was up the engine gave out. He came down suddenly and landed on a railroad track. At the aerodrome a gang of 18 271
THE FLYING FIGHTER
German prisoners were employed to level off the ground surface. They would laugh and jeer every time there was a crash. They did so on this occasion; in fact, they never lost a chance to let us know that their enmity towards us was real enough.
On the day Ham crashed I flew down the coast with a bus to be delivered in France. I made a fine trip, but on getting over the station at which I was to land I shut off power and started to spiral down. Unfortu- nately, the wind drifted me off, and when I came out of my spiral, at the height of about 500 feet, my engine would not start again.
I tried everything possible to get that motor spinning, but it was no use. I did not have height enough to get over the road, on the other side of which the aerodrome was located. On this side of the road stood some small pine trees and I settled down upon them. Luckily, the trees were small, and their tops formed a gentle cushion for me to land on. The propeller of the machine was slightly damaged, but that was all.
I climbed out of the machine with my bag, stick and log books, and reported at the head- 272
BACK TO BLIGHTY
quarters of the aerodrome. The command- ing officer happened to be in.
have brought yon down a DH5, sir," I
said.
**Is it any good?" he inqnired.
**It's perfectly all right except the engine," I answered.
Where is it?" asked the officer.
* ' It 's over on the pine trees, ' ' I replied. * * I cut ont the engine when I was away up and then it refused to start again, so 1 landed the machine in the trees."
For a moment the officer did not know what to say, then he smiled and asked me if I were hurt and offered me a cigarette. After that he signed my log book and gave me a receipt for the machine. I had lunch with him and then returned to my squadron.
Ten days later I had another weird trip. I was up in the air a good many thousand feet and the fog and haze were so thick that I could see very little. Above me there was another layer of cloud, so I decided to get to the top of that and then fly by compass and speed.
Before I reached the top of that cloud 273
THE FLYING FIGHTER
stratum I liad ascended to 13,000 feet. Thea I headed for my destination, wMcli I knew was about forty minntes distant, if I kept up ordinary speed. I allowed for tke time I had taken by going np so high, and after forty minntes' flight on the level I started to de- scend. I had dived a good ways bnt conld see no ground. The thing began to worry me. I looked at my instrument, and that showed me that I had gone 12,000 feet. Since I had gone up to 13,000 feet I conld be no more than 1,000 feet above the earth. Bnt no ground could be seen, and yet when I had gone up the weather had not been thick enough to make it impossible for a man to see that far.
But the weather in England is a most un- reliable and treacherous thing. I got down, to 300 feet and then the first thing upon which my eyes hit was a building which in another instant I recognized as the town hall of
A . I pulled on the throttle, but the
engine did not respond. At that height there is no time for manoeuvring, and in this case there was also no room. So I made up my mind to trust to God and then let the bus have her way. I was just about to land in a 274
BACK TO BLIGHTY
street, as things looked, when the motor sud- denly kicked four or five times and started otf. I literally swallowed my heart and sat back in the seat, glad to get that thing out in the open country. I noticed that in some places the clouds were hanging as low as fifty feet above the ground ; a young gale was coming from off the sea. But my troubles were not over yet.
There is a regulation which restrains pilots from flying over certain prohibited areas, such as sites occupied by munition plants and works which manufacture high explosives. There are so many of these pro- hibited areas that it is impossible to remem- ber them all. The man who does not remem- ber them is likely to get shot at by the English * ^Archies," or reprimanded if caught, and I had to find an aerodrome as soon as possible to avoid these, which I did, and I was very thankful after I was once more on Mother Earth. The same fate may befall the flyer while going over to France. We were required to leave our own coast at an eleva- tion of 5,000 feet and the French had a similar regulation.
275
THE FLYING FIGHTER
On one of my first trips to France, made in company with eleven others, we were heading for the Channel at an elevation of nine thousand feet. That cansed the English
Archies" to shell ns. They were nnder the impression that we were Huns. Bnt we made ourselves known by coming down to the pre- scribed level.
As a rule, we returned to England from our trips to France by the Channel boats. But often old machines had to be flown back from the parks in France, and in that case we made our return journey in the air.
We used to do our best to make sure that the machines were in proper shape before starting on a trip. It is not pleasant to land in the middle of the English Channel and float around for an hour or more before a patrol boat picks you up. But it is quite a common occurrence to make forced landings in that body of water. The number of ma- chines turned out in England increased rap- idly, and many men were engaged in ferrying them across to France. Though proportion- ately accidents were few, once in a while the 276
BACK TO BLIGHTY
ferry flyers and their inacliines would never be heard from again.
We had to fly when ordered, and there were times when it made no difference at all what sort of weather prevailed. That depended somewhat on the demand for machines at the front. As the aviation training schools in England multiplied, our work increased by leaps and bounds.
There was also much testing to do. There were days on which the testing pilots, of whom I was one, had to be up continually, and to our commander it made no difference what the state of the weather was. It might rain pitchforks and hammer Handles and still our work had to go on. We used to take turns at testing and ferrying, and very often faults of the machine that had not developed during the test would show themselves while we were taking it to its destination. Our measure of experience was getting fuller every day, and some of the things that hap- pened to us were queer indeed; yet it was all in the day's work.
While I was on ferry work between Eng- land and France I had a very good chance 277
THE FLYING FIGHTER
to observe what the naval flyers had to deal with. In the first place I conld see the bottom of the channel the biggest part of the way across. From an altitude of several thousand feet the bed showed np in brownish grey, ex- cept for the large deep holes, which appeared blue. It seemed queer that one should be able to see the bottom where big steamships were traveling, and I could easily understand now how the naval airmen could see a submarine when submerged.
This particular search is quite interesting. The patrols, keeping a lookout for hostile craft of that kind, would cruise about until they had spotted one of the *Hin fishes." Then they would go down and drop aerial tor- pedoes on it. If they saw other hostile ships, they would call up the naval station and no- tify it. A destroyer would be ordered to the scene, and then the naval airmen would help with the bombing. At other times they would watch for hostile aerial coast patrols and raiders bound for various points in France and England. The naval men have become so efficient that it is very seldom that enemy craft of any kind, either on water or in the 278
BACK TO BLIGHTY
air, go on reconnaissance without being fought by them. In many instances they have been able to inflict heavy losses upon the Hnns.
Besides meeting the difficulties of flying over water, the naval men have to train them- selves to land on water, which is quite a tick- lish thing to do, for the reason that for the last few feet there is nothing to show what the distance between the machine and the water's surface is, and many a spill occurs in learning. Water is as hard as land to fall on, and not soft, as many seem to think. It will smash a plane as quickly as i* it had landed on the ground.
Men who fly on the ground cannot neces- sarily fly over water. Some men seem to lose their sense of equilibrium when out of sight of land, and, as the sea is such a tre- mendous body, that is not to be wondered at. Conditions vary a great deal over water and when correcting bumps or small erratic air currents one has often to resort to his in- clinometer and other instruments to keep right side up ; for the fact that the water is level and of the same color when one looks 279
THE FLYING FIGHTER
ahead, has a disconcerting effect npon the vision. While flying over the clouds, which are generally of more level formation over the water than they are over land, the horizon is harder to judge, making aerial navigation very difficult at times. This has resulted in the use of several mechanical contrivances such as the artificial horizon, already in- stalled on destroyers.
On a beautiful day in May I left for France — ^that is to say, it was a beautiful day in England. A little further south the weather was only half decent.
Providing the bus behaves well the trip from station to station can be made in an hour and ten minutes. That is rather a long time to be in the air without good landing underneath, and for that reason and the long delays and trouble caused by forced land- ings, we used to take a careful look at the weather before we left. On this occasion, a squall set in while I was half across the Channel, and I had great trouble keeping the pitching bus out of the water.
On another day I had picked a new route aroxmd the northern part of London. The 280
BACK TO BLIGHTY
weather was fine and I had gone about sixty miles when the thought occurred to me that I would look up some of the boys at H., who were on home defense work. I had tea with them ; then, at about five o 'clock in the after- noon, I was ready to continue my trip to France. I said good-bye to the gang and got into my bus. From where I was I had to , go due south and across the Thames Eiver. I was not flying very high when on looking into the cockpit, I noticed that gasoline was spilling on the floor. I was unable to tell where the leak was, and rather than run chances I turned off my pressure. The motor stopped, and, as it did, I began to look around for a field in which I could land. I managed to get to earth all right, and then walked a mile to borrow a wrench, which I needed to replace the pipe that feeds the gasoline into the motor. Then I discovered that the tank was nearly empty. That meant that I would have to go in search of juice.
I managed to get two gallons, and since I was consuming gas at the rate of eight gallons an hour, it was hardly enough to start with. But I had to get away soon, be- 281
THE FLYING FIGHTER
canse a rain storm was coming np and I did not intend being caught in it in the open field.
I was at a loss what to do and so I consulted my maps as to the location of the nearest aerodrome. It was twenty miles away and in the direction of my flight. My two gallons of gasoline might take me there, and so I started off. About fifteen miles further on my engine again stopped, this time for want of fuel. J ust then the rain storm struck me. I had taken the precaution to go up high enough so in case something should happen I would have room for a safe landing. But to dive in a rain storm is a very trying ex- perience. The great speed of the machine causes the rain drops to strike hard, giving one the sensation that a thousand needles are being driven through the face. The water also blurs the sight as it dashes against the glass of the goggles, and the situation is rendered more difficult by the air currents, which during rains become very pronounced.
I had spotted the aerodrome I wanted to get to about half a mile ahead of me and started down for it ; but I fell into so many 282
BACK TO BLIGHTY
air holes and was bnmped abont so mncli by the currents that I began to fear the machine would be torn to pieces. I wished to land in the aerodrome, bnt feared that if I continued in the direction I was going I would end in a crash, as I had not- enough height to make the 'drome. It seemed best to attempt land- ing in a field, and I was about to do so when some of the men from the aerodrome came out to help me.
As I tried to settle to the ground the men got ready to catch me by taking hold of the wings, which is the usual way of catching machines as they land in an aerodrome in strong gales or storms.
But for some reason that machine would not settle down but made straight for a fence. I tried to put a sort of brake on the bus by applying pressure on the tail skid. This is the only way one can stop a machine ; the tail is light and the pressure is not heavy enough to pull a fast machine up in a short space, but it helped. Two men seized a plane each and my landing would have been a success had it not been that one of the men stubbed his toe and let go.
283
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The part of the machine which was re- leased began to spin about the part that the other man was holding. A tire flew off one of the wheels, and for a moment it looked as if I was to have a spill after all, but luck was again with me and I came out of it safely.
The aerodrome upon which I had landed was only in the course of construction, and for that reason I had to telephone to another aerodrome to get a tire, and the gasoline and oil I needed. Since there was no telephone at the 'drome, I had to go to a nearby village to attend to this matter. I had just started off when I heard a crash from the direction of the aerodrome. Looking around I saw an airplane standing on its nose. I rushed back to the aerodrome to see if I could be of any help to the poor devil, but found that he was dead. We had to cut his body out of the wreckage. Then we wrapped it up in a blanket. The poor man was an awful sight. His head had been completely crushed in. Right then and there I made up my mind that flying after all was a poor game. It occurred to me that any fool could fly, but that it took 284
BACK TO BLIGHTY
a wise man to stay on the gronnd with, both feet
I rested np that night and on the next day flew that bus of mine to France and delivered it 0. K. Bnt all the time that I was np iq the air I thonght of my poor dead pal, for ia the Flying Corps we are all pals.
The thonght of qnittiag the flyiQg bnsiness had come to me before, bnt there is a pecnliar fascination abont it. Hairbreadth escapes may momentarily sicken a man of the sport, bnt when the occasion has passed he longs to be np again in the bine.
The work I was doing had ceased to inter- est me. I wished myself back at the front, and made several attempts to get there. Bnt the attack of gas poisoning had left my Inngs in very poor condition, and constant exposnre to the raw wind while flying did not seem to make them better. Still I wanted to be back in the game in France, or as Tommy calls the country, 'Ell. On the other hand, I had the consolation of knowing that so far I was not **pnshing np daisies" — another expression of Tommy's when he wants to say that some pal of his has died. Meanwhile, I had made np 285
THE FLYING FIGHTER
my mind sometime to get a bus of my own and then fly to suit myself.
Testing and ferrying airplanes from one part of the world to the other had come to be my lot, it seemed. The air had now lost most of its thriUs for me and the only sur- prise that came my way was when some com- rade of old came to look me up.
One fine afternoon an orderly came to me with the information that there was some- body looking for me at the gate. To my sur- prise I found there one of the survivors of the old Tenth Canadian Battalion, and they were exceedingly rare now. The man's name was Maklin.
CHAPTER XIX
OLD TIMES AND NEW
Maklin and I had lived together in the same section of Canada, and he was one of those who had enlisted in the original three hundred that joined at Calgary. For a long time I had not heard of him and I had given him up for dead. The last news I had of him was that he had an eye shot out and had also lost part of his nose while rescning his company commander from the barbed wire field in front of the trenches. For that Maklin had received the D. C. M.
When Maklin called He had with him Corporal Kerr, owner of a Victoria Cross. I took the two men into my quarters and there we got Kerr, after a great deal of urging, to tell how he earned the V. C.
**Well, yon know," he started *'we were out in the firing trench and we were doing our trick at sentry one morning at dawn. I was 19 287
THE FLYING FIGHTER
just talking over with a pal how sick we were of trench life and how disgusted with every- thing in general. Just then a sniper from the other side picked off my pal.
**That made me so mad that I got over the top and started for the Hun line.
**I got over without being hit and rushed straight for the Hun trenches, hitting the bottom of one just at the entrance to a dug- out.
*'I hollered down to them to come up. The first two or three showed fight and I stuck them as they kept coming out.
"I kept sticking them until I had cleaned out that dugout. Then I went to another dug- out, and as they came out I made them disarm and get over the top of their own trenches into No Man's Land.
"When I had the bunch out there I climbed after them and started for our trenches, just in time to meet some of the men who were coming over to help me.
"I had killed twenty Huns and had made sixty-two prisoners. Hence the deco- ration.
Kerr would not talk much about the other 288
OLD TIMES AND NEW
stunts he had done, but he said that this one was nothing at all.
We passed a very pleasant afternoon to- gether. Ham, my **side kick," took Maklin up for a ride while I showed Kerr the dif- ferent machines. Then we talked trench war- fare, and finally drifted back to the experi- ences we had had back home.
While I was talking to Kerr a couple of Grahame-White machines passed overhead, and I explained to him that they were called Grahame-White bullets on accoxmt of the speed they did not have. These machines were then being used for training purposes.
To show Kerr what a really good machine could do, I got into a small scout flier of the DH5 type and went up. But my demonstra- tion didn't work out. On taxiing out to get the wind, the under-carriage broke and let the bus down on one side. So I went back and resumed the ^'chin-chin" with Kerr and the others boys. That evening we dined to- gether and talked of old times.
But life was still a matter of testing ma- chines and delivering them. One day when the weather was thick I was scouting around 289
THE FLYING FIGHTER
at about ten thonsand feet. I noticed that the balloons were up all over the country, which meant that more weather was coming. The balloons in question are sent up by the London weather bureau in order that the general direction and nature of the wind and weather conditions may be learned.
When I saw the balloons I made up my mind that I would have to go still higher to escape the storm, but I had not climbed very much when of a sudden it grew dark and more sultry than ever. There was lots of clear blue beyond, of course, and I decided to make for that as fast as I could. I was doing very nicely when a black object loomed up in front of me. It was one of the weather bureau balloons. There was no tell- ing what might happen in case I hit the thing, but to avoid it was possible only if I made a very sharp turn to the side. I twisted the machine around and missed the balloon by just a few feet. The current made by my propeller caught that gas bag, however. It began to swing wildly, and for a moment I feared that it might turn upside down. The men inside the car hung on to an armful of 290
OLD TIMES AND NEW
guy ropes for dear life. While it would have been impossible for me to help the men, I made a flight aronnd the balloon. But the men in the car were now scared more than ever. They motioned to me to go away. I did not hear what they said bnt I guess it must have been quite unprintable. There was nothing else to do but to plunge into that haze again and continue going up.
At fourteen thousand feet I reached the top of that layer. I had started out in hot and sultry weather and for that reason did not have on my heavy clothing— just a dirty trench coat. The machine I was flying at that time used castor oil and a lot' of it was always being thrown over the bus. It was cold at fourteen thousand feet, and I was just thinking of the many nicer places I could be in when the engine took a notion to stop. There was nothing to do but go down for the time being, so I plunged back into the haze and the cloud formation, and while the machine was planing down I did my best to find out what was wrong with the motor.
I was still within the sphere of the balloons, so between keeping my plane from going 291
THE FLYING FIGHTER
down on its tail, exanuning the motor, and keeping an eye open for possible balloons, I was kept rather busy. I was within one thousand feet of the ground, according to my instrument, and still the engine refused to budge. I began to look for a field in which I could land and discovered the pas- ture of a dairy farm. There was a large herd of cattle in the field but I had not no- ticed them on landing. When I saw them they were making for the fences and hedges in all directions with their taUs up in the air. The trouble was that the said fences and hedges were all a little too high. Three or four of the animals were beached as they reached the top of the hedge and seemed to find it impossible to move either way.
The old farmer to whom the animals be- longed did not appear to be pleased. He came out with a gun in his hands, and for a few minutes it looked as if he intended using that barker on me and the bus. The man was red in the face and mad clean through when he reached mc.
**Ay myte! What do you think this is — a bloomin* 'eathenish picnic?" he shouted. 292
OLD TIMES AND NEW
*^Wliat do yon think I'm mimin' 'ere — a blinMn' circus!"
I explained to tlie wrathful farmer that I had not come down to scare his cattle on purpose, telling him that my engine had broken down and forced me to land in his field.
He wanted to know why I had to land in his field.
I explained to him that his field was the only one big enough to land in.
But that did not seem to improve the temper of the man any. He informed me that he was going to claim damages for three days' milk from the Government*
At first I did not know what he meant by three days' milk. Then he informed me that he was sure his cows would not give any milk for that many days.
From the looks of things I gathered that he was not far wrong. Some of the cows were still struggling to get over the fence one way or the other, and were having quite a lively time of it. But in the end they man- aged to get away.
A shot of brandy from the flask which I 293
THE FLYING FIGHTER
always carry with me did not seem to make any appeal to the man. I offered him the flask but he turned me down. Then, in order to get the fellow into better hnmor, I offered to take him up for a ride, but he said that it was not for him. He had too much sense to go flying in a **bloomin' rattletrap like that."
Thinking that I might yet be able to do the man a favor I offered to take up his wife, but to my great surprise the farmer was madder than ever
We had a hard verbal set-to right then and there, and in the course of the argument I called the farmer a pro-German. This out- raged him to such an extent that I really be- gan to fear the man was going mad.
I decided to try a little strategy on him. I took out my notebook with a very serious mien and asked for his name and address. That helped. Of a sudden he grew very cordial and even invited me to come into the house for lunch. Being very hungry I ac- cepted that invitation. After lunch I repaired my motor and then got the old fellow to hold down the tail of the bus while I started the engine. I had told him to let go of the tail 294
OLD TIMES AND NEW
when I motioned, and to take the sticks from under the wheels when I waved at him with my hand.
Everything progressed finely until the farmer went to take the sticks from under the wheels. He managed to get one of them away, and he was just starting for the other side when the machine started to turn, push- ing the other stick out of the way. As the machine began to move the old man began to run.
Since I was in the wind I opened the throttle and started after the farmer, who was then going at a rate of at least twenty miles an hour and was gaining speed with every second. Just as I got up off the ground I took another look at the old fellow and found that he had caught his foot on something or other. He turned a somersault and then measured the remainder of his field to the fence by rolling all over him- self. I turned back over the field and flew in a circle to see if he was hurt, but by the time I got over him-he was on his feet again, shak- ing both fists at me. I made another flight over the field, wondering what made that 295
THE FLYING FIGHTEE
man so mad, and then I noticed that some- thing else w.as ocenpying the old farmer. The noise of the motor and the size of the huge bird had stampeded the cows again. Since I did not want to torment the old man any more than was necessary I made off for good, thongh I shonld have liked to hear what he had to say of me after that. There is no doubt that he wished I would break my neck or do somethiDg similar, but I finished my trip without further mishap.
A few days later I was to take another machine to the coast for delivery. Three other machines were in the group. We left about eleven o'clock in the morning, and we were near our destination when I saw a flock of Huns coming inland from the sea.
My machine had a gun, but I had no ammunition. We were near the aerodrome to which we were to take the machines and dove down to it with all possible speed to get ammunition. The other men had also seen the Huns and were coming after me with all possible speed. We had just landed in the aerodrome and were taxiing our machines to the shed, when a Hun bomb struck in a 296
OLD TIMES AND NEW
nearby field and exploded with a tremendous crash.
I had gone to see the commanding officer to get ammunition when an order came over the telephone that no machine destined for the troops in France should go up. That order had hardly been received when another crash came, and this time we took to our heels across the aerodrome. We were near the other side of the field when a third bomb crashed to the ground and exploded near us ; so we ran back like mad. The Huns aloft seemed to have it in for us, and our running about merely showed them that their bombs were having some effect. Then somebody shouted :
**Lie down! Lie down!''
The order was accompanied by some caus- tic remarks, and we had hardly obeyed it when more bombs dropped around us.
By the time that the necessary ammuni- tion had been issued to us and we were ready to take up the chase of the Huns they were well on their way home. This raiding party was never caught by the patrols in Eng- land, though those in France spotted them 297
THE FLYING FIGHTER
and gave battle, bringing down two of them.
On the following day we learned that a good many people had been killed in Folke- stone, and that considerable damage had been done by the raiders. The result of onr experience was the issuance of an order that in future all machines flying in England or being ferried to France were to carry ammu- nition. Most of the boys were praying for a chance to get even with the Huns. It was the first time that Hun flying machines had made a raid upon England and did any dam- age in that section.
CHAPTER XX
MEETING THE KING
Not so very long after that some of us got the chance we were looking for. Early- one morning the alarm came that the Ger- man air raiders were coming. Those of US who had machines that were ready went up immediately, and others went up in ma- chines that were not ready, the result of which was three rather serious accidents in which three men were badly smashed up.
But a few of us got up and cruised about at an elevation of sixteen thousand feet. In our hurry many of us had not taken the time to put on our heavy flying clothing, and these men came near freezing to death in that high altitude. We Jiad cruised around for nearly an hour and a quarter when I saw one of our machines make a straight line for the sea. I followed, and before long I was able to count twenty-two Hun machines coming 299
THE FLYING FIGHTER
towards ns. I recognized them as the big bombers used by the Germans.
The Huns were a little to one side of ns, so that I and the other man who had flown towards the sea were on their flank. The man in the other bus was old Ham, as I learned presently. He had a faster machine than I had and was endeavoring to get above the Hnn formation. After a while he suc- ceeded, and then he dived through the Hnn machines and separated them. After that the Hnns proceeded in groups of four and five. Meanwhile I had overtaken one of these groups for the purpose of co-operating with Ham.
Within a minute or two Ham had spotted a Hun whom he seemed intent upon bringing down. I manoeuvred into position, and when I thought the opportunity was good I took a burst at the enemy with my machine gun. The Hun started to drop immediately, and very soon I had lost sight of him.
Then I picked out another, and went to work on him. I was above him and took a dive during which I hoped to put him out of action with my gun. But as I plimged 300
MEETING THE KING
towards the macMne I found that I had run into a wasp 's nest ; I noticed that the air was full of blue streaks made by the explosive bullets which the Huns used.
I decided that I would have to climb again and try to take him unaware. I manoeuvred upward and got a new position, but before I once more came within fairly good range of the Hun machine the men in it dropped all their bombs into the marshes along the coast.
It was necessary to act quickly if this ma- chine was not to get away. The bombs had been dropped for the purpose of making the aeroplane lighter and enable it to rise more easily. The bombs had hardly exploded be- neath us when the Hun machine started up- ward in a spiral. When I thought the machine was in proper position for me I dived under it and took it under fire from below. I had not spent many rounds of am- munition when I noticed the rear gunner in the Hun machine roll to one side; then he disappeared in the cockpit. At the same time the machine began to faU. But just then my gun jammed and before I succeeded in get- 301
THE FLYING FIGHTER
ting it to work again the Hun had managed to get such a start over me that pursuit was useless. I was given credit for helping to bring down one Hun by the commanding officer of the squadron, as some one else had fought him at a lower level.
But I had fared much better than a good many others. One poor little chap who had taken to the air in a ^'Sopwith pup" had gotten under the tail of one of the Hun ma- chines. The man in the German machine got in his burst first and our poor chap got his in the head and started to spin earthward; I watched him until he was out of sight in the mist. Afterwards I learned that he had been killed.
But the Huns got their punishment before they left Allied territory, for the Naval gang patrolling the coast of France mixed in with them on their return home and brought three of them down.
The jamming of my gun had obliged me to quit the fight early. I made for the nearest aerodrome in the hope of getting another chance at the Huns before they escaped, but the all clear signal came before 302
MEETING THE KING
I got off the ground. As the boys came in we heard very interesting accounts of the fight, but Ham was the only man who could be sure of his Hun. His observer, another man who was later killed, was slightly wounded. Ham's airplane had about twenty hits to my seven.
On the day following the big raid I was sent to the coast with a machine and returned early that afternoon. Another plane had to be taken to an aerodrome. I had gotten to the level of seven thousand feet, and every- thing was going along smoothly at a speed of about one hundred miles an hour, when all of a sudden the engine burst, and I thought for a moment I was hit by ''Archie." The same instant castor oil flew all over me, and so completely covered my goggles that I could not see. As I felt about my face I noticed that something was hanging in front of me. The next thing I came to understand, after the first shock was over, was that the motor was no longer running. My feet had been forced off the rudder control. I groped around to find the stick but could not find it for a few seconds until I had gotten some of 20 303
THE FLYING FIGHTER
the oil out of my eyes. An examination of the various controls showed that the ma- chine was totally unmanageable. I was fall- ing— falling in such a manner that earth and sky seemed all mixed up. The machine passed from one loop into another, skidded sideways, then sailed on its tail for a sec- ond, righted itself again, and kept plunging earthward faster with every second. To my own surprise my presence of mind did not desert me. One moment I seemed to be sail- ing towards the sky, while the next left no doubt at all that I was rushing towards the ground.
Presently the machine began to swirl around its own axis while describing the regular spirals or spins.
I wondered how soon it would be over !
Another moment or two and then the crash would come.
I have never been much of a praying man, but then and there I said my little ''Now I lay me down to sleep. ' '
It was the only thing that came to my mind.
Then the thought occurred to me that I ought to make another effort to right that 304
MEETING THE KING
machine, but in an instant I had discovered that it was useless.
Through my mind flashed every experience I had had, and I remembered how the boys had asked me what flowers I wanted for my funeral. I was just wondering what differ- ence it could make to a man what flowers he might get when all of a sudden the machine righted itself and began to sail upon an even keeL
That fact restored me to normal. It flashed over my mind that I had just made a glorious nose dive, and I once more sought the control. But the stick would not move. As we say in the service, **It had taken the bone in its teeth,'' and that being the case there was nothing I could do to keep the machine righted. I was heading for the ground at the rate of about one hundred and twenty miles an hour, and, strange to say, had now given up all thought that I would be killed by the fall. I pictured the surgeons pulling struts out of my back and connecting rods from my knees. The thought filled me with a very peculiar fury. I would not go to another hospital if I could prevent it, no, not if I 305
THE FLYING FIGHTER
had to break every control in the machine.
The machine was now diving towards some trees standing by a roadside. I feared that I would hit the first of them, but the machine jnst cleared them. Just as it zoomed'' over the top of the tree the displacement of air from the plane waved the tree-top, so close did it pass. I was not far from the ground now and still going at terrific speed. I would give those levers another try, I thought. I tugged away at them with all my might but not a one of them responded. The machine hit the ground and a hedge just as I was straining every muscle at the controls. The first contact threw me out of the cockpit. After describing three somersaults I landed on the ground, striking on my shoulders and neck. My escape had been truly miraculous, so much so that I began to feel myself all over in an effort to find the bones which I thought were surely broken. I felt no pain, and so with that I finally concluded that I was still whole. I lit a cigarette and then walked over to view the wreck of the ma- chine.
I saw that it could be written off the lists. 306
MEETING THE KING
I found that a defective tappet rod had caused the trouble, cutting the coul around the engine, which revolved at the rate of 1,300 revs, a minute, and that in some manner, which will never be explained, the propeller got tangled up with the machine gun and that the force of this contact strained every part of the machine to such an extent that it be- came unmanageable, allowing the engine to fall back on my knees and push my feet off the rudder control.
Some people came tearing down the road in a motor car. One of them was a doctor, who insisted that I should come over to his house for an examination. I had convinced myself that I was still in working order, but I wanted to reach the headquarters of my squadron by telephone, and for that reason I gladly accepted the invitation of the doctor.
When we arrived at the house I telephoned to the squadron and then gave myself into the hands of the doctor, who seemed to be a very painstaking man. But I will say for his wife that she had her husband skinned to death as a doctor. She went into the dining- 307
THE FLYING FIGHTER
room and presently returned with a bottle of Scotch whiskey, a glass, and some soda.
**I know what he needs more than an3ii:hing right now," she said, as she ponred me a drink.
And the lady certainly was right.
I am not a drinking man, bnt after a crash of that sort there is nothing on earth that will do a man so much good as a cigarette and a glass of Scotch and soda.
At about midnight a wrecking lorry and €rew arrived, and by the first light of dawn we had the machine aU loaded and on its way to the repair depot. The commander of my unit gave me five days' leave of absence for the purpose of having me regain my nerve.
The medico of the squadron told me that I had better go to a place where I would not see an airplane. To follow his advice, which I deemed kindly enough, I went to a little seaside town which has the reputation of be- ing a very restful place. I had worn uniform so long now that I was anxious to find out how it felt to wear civilian clothing again. I bought myself a suit of flannels, and I did 308
MEETING THE KING
enjoy the change from the eternal khaki very much.
The little place I went to is like most of the English coast towns — ^very pretty and picturesque. Some famous poet lived there once upon a time and every little landmark had its history. I stayed in a little inn known as the Eed Cow, and one of the first things I did was to go for a swim. I had a good one. Then I went home and after dinner went to bed, because soldiers in England are so com- monplace now that nobody looks at them any longer. I had a good sleep as a civilian, and next morning went out for a game of golf. I know little about that game, but the old man with whom I was playing was an expert. To make it interesting for me he gave me a handicap of seven holes. My partner also had a very fine line of golf stories and he could hit a ball so hard that it took two men to see it fly, one to say, there she goes" and the other, **here she is."
We had just gotten to the seventh hole and I was doing finely when I heard a familiar hum in the air ; on, looking up, I saw an air- plane just about to land on the golf links. 309
THE FLYING FIGHTER
Its pilot was a student and he had lost his way. He told me that this was his first solo trip with a war-type machine. I advised him to call up his squadron since he had landed in an awkward place. He was not so sure that he could get up again.
I took the man to the nearest telephone and as a reward the commanding officer asked me to fly the pupil home. I could not very well refuse, so I got into the machine and flew the pupil back to the squad. But the com- manding officer was nice about it. He sent me back in one of the cars of the squadron, after we had lunched together.
Upon my return to the hotel I found a letter from the doctor telling me to be sure and keep away from airplanes. I wrote back to him that he would have to find another place for me, and that it would have to be entirely out of England so far as I could see. To keep away from airplanes in little Eng- land was quite impossible at that time. Two days later another landed in the sea just off shore and I had to help fish it out. When the five days' leave of absence were over I felt that I had had a change but not a rest. 310
MEETING THE KING
I went back to the squadron and started to work again. A few days later we were told to put on onr best uniforms. Tbe King and Queen and Princess Mary were coming down to visit the squadron and we were to be pre- sented to them. Four of us were to fly for the royal family and I was to be one of them. The machine I was to fly was one of the slowest machines, used for training pur- poses.
As the automobiles of the royal family and their suite appeared on the aerodrome, we went up. There was quite a gale blowing and it took some effort to get around the aerodrome. The machine I was flying was heavy and difficult to handle.
Near the aerodrome lies a railroad track and a freight train was coming down the line. It occurred to me that itlnight not be amiss to give the royal family a little exhibition, and with that in mind I started off on a race with the train. But the engineer brought off the honors. He left me behind, much to the amusement of the royal family.
On landing I was presented to the King, Queen, and Princess. To my great surprise 311
THE FLYING FIGHTER
the King recognized me again. That a man -with all the cares he has shonld remember faces so well impressed me very much. The King asked me a few questions regarding flying, and in the course of the conversation I learned that he knew more about it than I had expected. The King is an honorary colonel of the Royal Flying Corps. He im- pressed me as a very able man, and I was glad that I had been in his service and had been given the chance to fight for a country like England. But for all that I never forgot the Stars and Stripes. I always carried an American flag in my baggage. One day a machine of a very advanced pattern was to be presented to General Smuts, the noted South African general. The machine was in our care, and our aerodrome and its build- ings had been decorated in regular Fourth of July fashion. The flags of all the Allies floated over it except the Stars and Stripes. Ham and I inquired why this flag had been omitted, and were told that one large enough could not be found. We made up our minds to find an American flag that was large enough. It took two hours to do it, but by the 312
MEETING THE KING
end of that time we had a flag ten feet long which we hoisted on the highest pole we could find on the hangars, much to the amnsement of the commanding officer and the boys.
The presentation of the airplane to Gen- eral Smuts developed into quite an event. The machine was given to the General by some Government officials, and then it was christened by one of the ladies present. Mr. Hucks, one of the old-time pilots, was instructed to fly the machine, and it behaved very well. Four of us did some stunt flying and amused the crowd for an hour or so.
A few days later an escort from our squad- ron was detailed to go to Hyde Park, where King George was to hold an open air invest- iture. About thirty men from various squad- rons were detailed for the work, which con- sisted of patrolling at from 5,000 to 15,000 feet. To see the thousands of people crowd- ing around the large stand that had been erected for the King was quite a sight.
Among those decorated by the King were a good many who had been crippled and maimed for life in the war. I felt great satis- faction in being able to assist at the cere- 313
THE FLYING FIGHTER
mony, and to see men honored who had sac- rificed so much in so good a cause.
A few days later I was sent to France with the last machine I delivered for the British Government. Five machines, in all, were to be taken over by this convoy. Mine was a two-seater, and I had a pupil with me whom I was to take as far as the coast, from which point I would be accompanied by an aerial gunner. The two of us were to fight off the Huns in case they should attack the flock. We met no Huns while crossing the Channel, but learned that they had raided England again on that very day.
Upon my landing at the squadron in France I learned that the Huns had done consider- able damage to the aerodrome. One of their bombs had killed two equipment officers and a flight commander, who had been in the very act of going on leave of absence.
That night I went to B , where I in- tended staying over night, having missed the afternoon cross-channel boat. There being nothing to do after dinner we decided to turn in, but had scarcely done that when we were routed out of bed by gun-fire. The Huns 314
MEETING THE KING
were making another raid and were bombing the city. A couple of bombs fell into the camp of an ambulance unit and killed a few men. Another bomb killed a Chinese coolie and scared a hundred nearly to death. The Chinese were making off for the timber at an incredible speed when the Huns sailed away. It took some time to quiet that rabble.
After a while people came out of their cel- lars and resumed their occupations, but with- in two hours another Hun came over and started the ball rolling once more. The French Archie'' batteries were quite busy, and I was standing on the fire escape of the hotel watching the shrapnel explode, living over again meanwhile some of the experiences I have had at the front, when — zip! — crash! Just across the street from me in the fish market landed one of the Hun's bombs. It was a lucky thing that there was no- body in the market at the time or otherwise the list of casualties would have been long. After that the Hun disappeared and we were bothered no more that night.
There was little to do in our aerodrome now for a while. Now and then we would 315
THE FLYING FIGHTER
test a macliiiie, but, the weather being very unfavorable just then and time hanging heavy upon our hands, many of us were given leave of absence. The same state of affairs pre- vailed at the other aerodromes, and a great deal of time was put in by the pilots visiting one another. It did us good to see again familiar faces, and most of the men had very interesting stories to tell. One of the friends who called on me at that time was Peter Gondie, who had joined the first unit to which I belonged in Canada. Peter had managed to get into the Eoyal Flying Corps, and one of his adventures was a fight with six Huns in which he had been hit by bullets four times in the knee. Peter and I had served together in the same unit for some time. He was a private then and I a staff sergeant. Like my- self, he had since managed to get a commis- sion, but was now about to be invalided out of the service.
Another man whom I met then was Capt. Foot, commonly known as **Feet," a famous British flyer, who has brought down many Huns. I met him in a theater. He was a very fine fellow. He had a peculiar habit of 316
BOMBING AND FIGHTING PLANE
MEETING THE KING
flying without goggles and without a helmet.^ Shortly after I met him he went back to France and there added more glory to his name by mixing it with another gang of Huns.
I also met Carl Beattie in the course of this spell of inactivity. I had served with him in the ranks. He told me that he was waiting for some other friends of ours, and presently they showed up. One of them was Scottie Allen and the other Ballis. The former, poor chap, had lost his right arm. He had gotten into a fight with two Huns one day and had been hit seven times. The worst of it was that they had gotten him while he was still an observer; for that reason Scottie had never known what it was Jto fly a machine himself. We had all served together in a Canadian unit.
And we talked of the old times when we were in the Mechanical Transport Section in France and breaking our necks to get into the Eoyal Flying Corps. We laughed over our efforts to learn wireless telegraphy. We had made ourselves wireless keys and buzzers and had taken the batteries of the lorries to 317
THE FLYING FIGHTER
furnish the necessary electricity. We had also managed to get a copy of the Morse code, as nsed in France, and after we had mastered the alphabet we used to amuse ourselves sending wireless dispatches to one another. That kind of thing has its value. "When I joined the Flying Corps I was actually able to send fifteen words and re- ceive about ten per minute. "We also re- minded one another of the days when we used to stop our lorries near an aero- drome on the main road to the lines. None of us ever passed that spot without stopping long enough to see some flyer go up or land. We thought of all the silly ques- tions we had asked and of the funny replies that had been given us.
During this dull season somebody decided that we ought to take a course in aircraft construction at one of the largest plants in England. It was quite an interesting ex- perience. Much of the work was done by women, to release men who were fit for mili- tary service in France. I was much surprised at the quality and quantity of the work done by the women. In addition to stretching the 318
MEETING THE KING
fabric on the planes, they were helping in the building of frames, and they also put on the preparation which is used to shrink the fabric after it is sewed on. Some of them assisted in making propellers, while others varnished them.
The women of England have proven in fact that they can do anything that a man can do, and it is my opinion that if they were given a fair chance they would make just as good fighters. They are employed every- where. Some of the ammimition works em- ploy as many as 7,000 of them. They are nowadays also employed in France as motor drivers and clerks, and are quite capable of doing such heavy work as driving lorries. In machine shops I saw the women handle lathes and other machines. On the farms they do the plowing, and I doubt very much if England could continue the war without its woman labor. When we arrived at the factory there was a shortage in materials and for that reason we could not do very much, aside from looking over machines that were ready. Some of my time I devoted to the study of cloud formations and wind currents. 21 319
CHAPTEE XXI
IN THE CLOUDS
The problem of flying in clouds had always interested me greatly. There is no accurate instrument that will tell the flyer what course he is holding, and often this results in the man finding himself in dangerous positions while flying in thick weather. I have been in clouds so dense that I could not see the wing tips of my machine. Under such circum- stances it is impossible for a man to estab- lish what his position is in relation to the horizon. He is likely to come out of the clouds in almost any position. In fact, the squadron commander, who examined me as to my mechanical ability when I joined the service, once came out of a cloud on his back at a height of 6,000 or 7,000 feet, to find that he had dropped his observer out. He landed as fast as he could and started to search for the poor fellow, but the man 320
IN THE CLOUDS
had been killed outright and half buried in the fall.
The oddest cloud formations may be met at times. Once I was np above the main stratum, which was about 3,000 feet thick, and was broken by holes here and there. I had climbed through one of these holes to the top of the cloud, but when finally I came clear the hole had closed up.
All I could see was a large white cloud that showed no breaks of any sort. There were large peaks on this cloud, and with my back towards the sun I started to fly towards one of them. As I came close to it, I saw on its very side the outlines of another airplane. I had seen no other flyers near me and I wondered where this one had come from so suddenly. Before long I noticed that the ma- chine was coming towards me. I tried to avoid it, but found that the machine changed its position accordingly. I was sure that there would be a smash-up. I tried to get out of the way of the machine by a sharp turn, but that idiot of a pilot executed the same manoeuvre. Then I climbed to get over him and the other machine did the same. A 321
THE FLYING FIGHTER
i^Uision seemed inevitable. I closed my eyes and waited for the crash.
But I waited in vain. I had judged the distance between the two machines accurately, and after I was convinced that I had passed the other one I opened my eyes again — just as my plane was poking its nose into the cloud peak against whose sides its outlines had been cast by the sun.
As I rushed through the mist I was not yet sure that this had really been the case, so when I had emerged on the farther side I banked and described a circle around the peak to find the other machine. But there was no doubt that the machine I had seen had been the shadow of my own. I recalled then that the contour of the other machine had been framed in an iridescence showing all the colors of the rainbow. It occurred to me that it would be well to do it all over again, and I did. I reached the same position as before and went once more through the sensation of a crash in the air.
On another occasion I saw a peak that had a large archway in it. I made up my mind to fly through it. The peak seemed quite 322
IN THE CLOUDS
close but I kept on flying without reacliing the portal. What I had taken for a distance of only a few hundred yards proved ulti- mately to be ten miles. But I got to the archway in the end, and as I rushed through it the air currents made by the propeller caused the entire structure to collapse. In fact, I drew a great deal of it after me, the vapors following my machine like the tail of a kite.
Other peaks I tried to hurdle, but gener- ally I would be deceived in the distance. I woxdd imagine that I had gone over the peak only to find that this was not the case and I would find myself crashing through it. In other cases it would be still ahead of me, but once in a while I would come jiown to my former level close enough to the peak to dive through it.
Most of the pilots have a great deal of fun in the clouds, but they also find them very troublesome. Eain clouds are generally quite black underneath, and show all sorts of pro- jections which are visible from the ground. Within the clouds themselves wind currents of varying velocity race back and forth. The 323
THE FLYING FIGHTER
bumps on the clouds are generally caused by the uneven density of the mists, and stand in direct relation to the wind currents beneath and within the clouds. The airplane going through a cloud of that sort may drop from two to three hundred feet at a time, with- out the pilot, who sees nothing but his ma- chine and the vapor -around him, noticing it. Clouds of that sort have been the cause of a good many bad spills.
I have often been asked by friends how one feels when up in the air some five miles. That is not so easy to explain, for on almost every trip a man experiences different emo- tions. It depends largely on the state of Ms nerves and on his general physical con- dition. But I may say that the feeling which of tenest came over me was that I had no busi- ness in those lofty regions. Not having lived the life of a saint, I could not help thinking of the hereafter and of the supernatural pow- ers that are supposed to govern it ; inciden- tally I felt convinced that there was a here- after. At times it did not affect me at all.
But finally one comes to believe that his life 324
IN THE CLOUDS
is entirely within the hands of the Supreme Power.
If that Power willed to pnt an end to my life on earth, it had but to fracture one of my planes or to demolish some other part of the machine. I would crash to earth then within a few minutes and certain death would be my lot.
There were times when, sailing up in the eternal blue with the noise of the motor the only sound to reach my ears — and even that becomes negligible after a while through con- stant hearing — I would experience a degree of lonesomeness that is impossible to clearly describe. Below me might pulsate a tre- mendous field of clouds, all gray and white, and around and above me nothing but the blue. On the earth it might be raining, but up there the sun was shining.
Under such circumstances one's life un- rolled as though it were a supernatural mov- ing picture. I used to review my past and find great satisfaction in the thought that I had never stolen anything nor killed a man in eivil life. I took it for granted that if an angel should step out from a cloud and 325
THE FLYING FIGHTER
tell me I had no right up there, he would know that much about me. But at the same time I resolved to obey his command immediately if he should order me to the earth.
Sometimes I would shut the engine off for the purpose of gliding down. I would then feel the absolute silence all the more, until the stays and wires of my machine began to sing and screech from the pressure while in a nose dive. With the wires strmnming and the plane making the sound of a drum when- ever the machine changed its position the veriest fraction of an inch, new thoughts came to me. They brought me back to the reality of things — the care of the machine. One never knew when a part of the contriv- ance, which had stood the strain of the last dive, might snap. In that case it would be all over.
Pilots and observers are a rather queer lot while on the ground. The language they use is not always of the best, and often they do things which are not exactly right, although as a whole they are of the best.
But up in the air it is different. In the course of time the flyer becomes very super- 326
IN THE CLOUDS
stitious. He comes to believe in the queerest things. For instance, it is absolutely impos- sible to induce an aviator to be the third one to light his cigarette from the same match. Two or four will do so, but I've never known a man to have the courage to be the third. Some of them carry their superstition so far that they will not be the third man even if there are four.
They used to tell a little story of a squadron in France three of whose pilots were stand- ing on the aerodrome one day waiting to go up on patrol. The three of them wanted to smoke, but had only one match between them. Two of them lighted their cigarettes on that match. It so happened that the third was a man who was not so very superstitious, or else he wanted to smoke very badly. He requested the privilege of lighting up. The others did not like that, for, according to the general belief, it is the third man who will be overtaken by disaster. In this case the man was very popular and his friends did not like to see him do it. But he insisted and they finally consented. He went up on patrol and while fighting off a Hun 327
THE FLYING FIGHTER
was shot down behind the German lines.
That story was spread around, and there- after the superstition was duly heeded throughout the Royal Flying Corps.
With many of the men, the mascot was really a fetish. Some of these fetishes were of a most peculiar character. The animals, which were kept in the camps, were looked upon as harbingers of good-luck for the or- ganization. But each man had his own little fetish. It was known as the pocket-piece or mascot. In some cases it might be a dice or a playing-card. A man who had often drawn an ace to a full house, flush or a straight, was bound to look upon aces in the end as the thing that would bring him good luck. In other cases it might be a locket, then again a medal, while many of us carried little woollen dolls. Even photographs were said to have the quality which we expected of our fetishes. One of the men looked upon his pipe as a fetish, while another cherished a piece of Chinese jade upon which he counted. An- other had a knife. Many of the men wore bracelets on one wrist. In fact, nine-tenths of the pilots in the Corps possessed some 328
A SQUADRON OF SINGLE-SEATED FIGHTERS
IN THE CLOUDS
queer sort of personal charm or fetish.
Some of the men carried these things only in their flying clothes, but others grew so superstitions that they would transfer them into a pocket of their other clothing; they refused to be without their pocket-piece at any time.
I remember walking down the Strand with a friend of mine one day. We came to a ladder upon which stood a window cleaner; inadvertently I walked under it. That friend called me every name he could think of for walking under the ladder. And yet he was the last person in whom I should have thought to discover any superstition. He was an old miner and a wild man besides. Later we re- turned to the aerodrome and I went up for a flight. I had tried my machine and looked it over carefully before leaving the ground. It was all right then.
Before going up my friend had warned me to be very careful, and I remember that in the act of gliding to earth I made up my mind to tell him that he was just a little too finicky about signs and omens. But on land- ing I broke my under-carriage and the ma- 329
THE FLYING FIGHTER
chine was smashed up considerably before it came to a stop. I changed my mind after that, and carefully avoided walking under more ladders.
But that is not all. Some of us acquired the habit of fii3.ding omens in the queer con- tours of the clouds and the many fantastic shapes these mist formations wiU assume. Of course that was going rather far, but some of these flying boys become very supersti- tious.
The effect of nerve tension on a flyer who has lost his nerve may become permanent as far as flying is concerned. I have known men who would grow sick at the mere sight of a machine, and for this reason cease to be of any value whatsoever. Perhaps in the end they would come back to their job, and one would imagine that the man ought to be as good as ever. But that is not so. The thing that brings them back to the aerodrome is often a sense of duty. But the value of the man has departed; the flyer who loses his nerve once is lost.
It is my opinion that men so affected have brooded too long over the fact that in the 330
IN THE CLOUDS
end the flyer is bound to be brought down.
There is a saying among flyers: ^*If you stick to it long enough you're bound to get it.''
And the saying is all too true as the cas- ualty records show.
In the latter part of September, 1917, 1 had to go to a hospital, being afflicted with bron- chial asthma. Everything possible was done to restore me, but I could feel that little good had come of the treatment I had been under. I was sent before a board of medical exam- iners, who recommended that I should be sent home. * -
I had been in Europe thirty-two months, and of this time I had spent twenty-two months in France, and the remainder in Eng- land, engaged in testing and ferrying work. And not a few weeks of that time had been spent in the hospital. Though I had been in the service for thirty-eight months, I was not tired of it, and if my health had permitted it I would have gladly continued.
Upon my arrival in Canada I was examined 331
THE FLYING FIGHTER
again and f onnd to be permanently disabled, having contracted chronic bronchial asthma, due to the climatic conditions of France and England, and the results of my old wounds. The board ruled that I was unfit for further service in His Majesty's armies.
While in the service I learned that a man never knows what he can do until he has to do it. I look upon my participation in the European War as the greatest honor that can be bestowed upon a man.
The army is one of the greatest teachers of all time. Its lessons may be costly, but they are of great value.
I cannot praise too highly the work done by the nurses and doctors in the Allied service in France and England, and to me they will always be the Army of Mercy. They are saviours of humanity.
APPENDIX
JUST FLYING MAN'S TALK
AILERONS. Movable section of the main planes located at the end and rear of the plane by which the bank for turning is obtained.
A. M. An air mechanic.
ANEROID. An instrument which registers s^roxi- mate height and which is set befor§ leaving the ground.
ARCHIE. Any Hun anti-aircraft battery, which sends up high explosive shells at inoffensive British or Allied birdmen, and which generally shoots too straight.
ARMSTRONG HUT. A hut about two-by-twice in size made of laths and canvas. The officers are expected to live in them. They are cold in winter and wet in summer and are named after the inventor, but they are about one per cent, better than a tent.
ART. OBS. Abbreviation for artillery observations. 333
THE FLYING FIGHTER
BELT. A strap made of leather or canvas which the pilot wears around himself and which is fastened to the machine to prevent the pilot from falling when he comes out of clouds on his back or does some such other stunt.
BUBBLE. A curved spirit-level placed laterally to the machine, used to denote side slips but seldom used by experienced flyers.
BUCKED. Proud or pleased.
BUMPS. Air currents which upset the equilibrium of a machine by tossing it around. They make the pilot work when they are bad and they are sometimes dangerous.
BUS. Any flying machine or aeroplane.
CANNBER. The curvature on a plane. It is some- times applied to a pilot's nose when damaged after crashing, or after a hot argument.
C. C. A mechanical device by which a machine gun is timed to the propeller to shoot through its blades while in motion.
CHOCKS. The only good things pertaining to flying. They are placed in front of the wheels of a plane when starting the engine to prevent the plane from running on the ground while test-, ing or running up the engine, and they always stay on the groimd.
CHORD. The width of wings.
CONKED. A new word which is taken from the Russian language and which means stopped or killed.
334
APPENDIX
CROCK. Any soldier who is disabled for life through the European War.
DUD. A term characterizing anything bad or unfa- vorable, from weather to pilot and observer or gunner.
EGG BASKET. A tin box arrangement in which bombs are placed for strafing Hun balloons.
EGGS. Bombs weighing twenty pounds and upward filled with high explosives and "laid" in Hun- land.
ELEVATOR. A movable plane fastened to the tail plane, by which the up and down movements of a machine are guided, providing the wires are not shot away by "Archie," in whidi case the machine comes down nose first and is wrecked. Some buses have a plane which is counter- balanced and takes the place of both tail plane and elevator.
FIN. A small plane placed on edge on the extreme rear of the fussalage, to which it is fastened. It is used to offset torque of a propeller or for added keel surface. The word is sometimes used in referring to each other's hands.
FLAMING ONIONS. A refined Hun device for bring- ing down Allied flyers when on low altitude night reconnaissance or bombing raids. They are about the size of a football, and, coming in contact with a plane, set it on fire
FLIP. A flight.
22
335
THE FLYING FIGHTER
FLYING FISH HOOKS. One better than the fire-ball and used by the same people. They are only on either end, to catch into the plane and make sure of burning it up if contact is made.
FLYING O. An O with a half wing attached to it showing the difference between a pilot and an observer. It is a brevet which can only be earned in France and is only worn by observers who have qualified.
FORCED LANDING. Landing through engine or other trouble.
FUSSALAGE. The body of a flying machine. When the birdman wants to tell a man he is going to hit him in the body, he will say: "I'm going to stave in your fussalage."
GADGET. The same as hickie.
HANGAR. A shed or structure made of wood, or a steel frame-work, covered with canvas, used for housing aeroplanes.
HEINIE. A German flyer.
HICKIE. This word is applicable to anything whose name you don't remember.
HUN. A student who is learning to fly, called that on account of the queer things he does. Every pilot is a Hun until he has received his wings.
JOY STICK. A contrivance by which a machine is partly controlled. So called because it adds speed to the machine when pushed forward, producing joy when the pilot is in a hurry to get away from "Archie."
APPENDIX
LOG BOOKS. A set of books in which the record of the flying hours of an engine and machine are kept for reference.
LONG RECON. A trip of from 20 to 80 miles behind the Him lines to gather information. Every- body goes sick when there is one to do, from "vs^hich he returns if he's lucky.
NOSE. The extreme forward end of any flying machine.
OBSERVER. From pilot's point of view, human luggage ballast used to balance and help a machine while up in the air over the lines.
THE OFFICE. The pilot's cockpit.
PADRE. An army chaplain.
PELOT. The French term for pilot commonly used in the Fl3dng Corps.
PETERED. Meaning to stop slowly or gradually.
PETOT. An instrument which records air spee*d.
PILOT. From observer's point of view, a chauffeur for the observer.
POM POM. A small anti-aircraft gun used from the ground on machines flymg at a low altitude.
PROP OR CLUB. The propeller of a flying machine, generally fastened to the engine until displaced by high explosives. One or more are used, depending upon the type of machine.
A PUP. ^
A DOLPHIN ^^c^i^^s of the Sopwith make which • I bear some point of resemblance to A CAMEL. the creature after which they are
A HIPPO. J named.
337
THE FLYING FIGHTER
REV. COUNTER. An instrument which counts the revolutions of an engine when it is running.
RUDDER. The only movable vertical plane on the machine. Fastened to the butt end of the fus- salage and used in turning and correcting bumps.
RUMPTY. A machine of the Morris Farman type used in instructional work, called that on ac- count of its queer movements in the air. It is sometimes called a longhom on account of the long skids on the landing-gear and is a sister type to the shorthorn, which is minus this length of skids, and flies much faster.
SAUSAGE. A captive balloon which somewhat re- sembles a sausage in form. It is used by both sides for observation purposes.
SCARFE MOUNTING. A rotary mounting on which a machine gun is placed and used by a gunner or observer. It greatly facilitates the handling of a gun in the air.
THE SKIPPER. The Squadron Commander in the Royal Naval Air Service.
SMOKE. A name given to London, England, by Colonial troops on account of the heavy mist and smoke-like fogs which cloak it the greater part of the year. Usually "Big Smoke."
SPAN. The length of wings over all.
SPINNING. A stunt with a machine which consists of spinning the wings around the axis of the machine while diving nose first vertically.
APPENDIX
STUNTS. Loops, spins or fancy turns made in the air.
TAIL PLANE. A section of plane fastened to the rear of the fussalage which it holds up.
TAIL SKID. A skid made of wood or steel tubing or spring-steel and which stops the tail of a ma- chine from resting on the ground when not flying.
TAKE OFF. The getting off the ground of a machine.
TAXI. To run along the ground on one's own power.
TENDER. A sort of light motor truck used in the Royal Flying Corps.
THOW. A flying man's abbreviation for thousand.
UNDERCARRIAGE. The landing gear of a flying machine, same word being sometimes used by the birdman when referring to the pedal ex- tremities of either sex.
WAR HOUSE. The place in England from where a great part of the war is run.
WASSIN BIRD. A French flying machine of the Voisin type,
WIND UP. A term meaning frightened.
A WOLF. A daredevil pilot who stunts near the ground. They generally last about a month.
ZOOM. A hurdle into the air—not to be practiced by beginners.
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