The Mammoth Book of Fighter Pilots (17 page)

Anyhow, the Lewis was going well, so I put in a new drum and closed again to effective range. I fired the whole drum at him, and thought that I had him in flames, for a large cloud of black smoke answered my burst. Meanwhile, the Hun pilot was flying along straight, not attempting to dodge or swerve at all, and so I put on my third and last drum, and fired again but to no good effect, for the Hun still went on, and at last I left him, miles over the German lines going down in a very flat glide with his propeller stopped.

That Hun gunner must have been full of lead, but I know why I missed the machine. I had just resighted my guns before I went up and made a little error, which became apparent to me whilst engaging this Rumpler, but now that the error had become apparent, it was all to my future guidance and instruction. I returned from that height flight not disheartened, but with a very bad headache owing to high flying for so long a time at such a height without oxygen.

That evening I took my patrol over the lines at 10,000 feet east of Armentières, and then flew north. Very soon we spotted some two-seaters below us, working up and down the Menin road at 8,000 feet. Down we went and tackled them, but they were all three very good two-seaters, and any good two-seater is a most difficult fellow to attack. We chased them right down low, and when I looked round I only had Rhys-Davids with me, so we flew north together, and very soon saw some black and white Albatroses over Westroosebeke, at about 10,000 feet. We waited under these Huns until the other formation which our Squadron had out also came down from the north led by Maxwell.

Very soon the Huns came down on Rhys-Davids and me, and then Maxwell’s patrol came down on the Huns, and now we were all mixed up in a real dog-fight. Just then I saw out of the corner of my eye an S.E. circling inside four Albatros Scouts, and as I glanced I saw a Hun, who was turning inside the S.E. at 25 yards range, shoot the S.E.’s left wings off and the British machine went down in a spin, with one pair of wings left. It was poor Sloley, who was, as usual, where the Huns were thickest.

This incident happened in the space of a few seconds, and as I looked round again I saw another S.E. in amongst four black and white Albatroses. This S.E. was fighting magnificently, and simply could be none other than Rhys-Davids, for if one was ever over the Salient in the autumn of 1917 and saw an S.E.5 fighting like Hell amidst a heap of Huns, one would find nine times out of ten that the S.E. was flown by Rhys-Davids. I dived down, and Maxwell joined us, and for the next few minutes we fought like anything, but the Huns were all very good, and had not Maxwell and I gone to Rhys-Davids’ assistance when we did, I think the boy would have had a rather thin time.

By now the Huns, having other fish to fry, had gone off, and so Rhys-Davids and I flew away south and then went down on two two-seaters who were flying round low over and east of Zonnebeke. I fired a good burst at the nearest one, and then zoomed away, and Rhys-Davids also fired a long burst at the same Hun, who flew off east at about 2,000 feet. We returned west a little and then saw a Hun two-seater at about 200 feet over Polygon Wood. I had a good shot at him, but he took not the slightest notice, and after that Rhys-Davids had a go, and I could see his tracers splashing all over the Hun, who just flew on straight and took no notice. I believe the brute was armoured.

It was now getting dusk, and as we had been out over two hours, Rhys-Davids and I flew home abreast, a few yards apart, the exhaust from our engines roaring in a glare of flame along the sides of our fuselages in the evening darkness. We landed in the dark, and after taxi-ing into our sheds, Rhys-Davids’ machine was found full of holes as usual, whilst I had only a few. We now found out that a Hun had gone down out of control during the first fight during which poor Sloley went down, but as no individual claimed it, it went down to the “A” Flight formation.

On the 3rd of October a wire came from the Wing announcing the award of the D.S.O. to Rhys-Davids, a second bar to the M.C. of Barlow, and a bar to my own M.C. It was decided to hold a very large dinner that evening to celebrate it, for the weather was bad, and there had been no flying all day. At 8.30 we marched into dinner to the accompaniment of “Old Comrades” by the Squadron orchestra, and after dinner we had to make speeches.

I cannot recall Rhys-Davids’ speech, but the gist of what he said was that he was very much honoured to receive the D.S.O., and was very pleased indeed, but he would very much like to express his appreciation of the enemy whom we had daily fought, and who as a rule put up such fine examples of bravery and courage, and he felt that he was perhaps doing an unprecedented thing when he asked us all to rise to drink to “Von Richthofen, our most worthy enemy,” which toast we all drank with the exception of one non-flying officer who remained seated, and said, “No, I won’t drink to the health of that devil.” Barlow then made an appropriate speech, and I hope I did likewise, and after that we adjourned to the ante-room.

In the mess above the C.O.’s head was the Squadron Honours Board, on which appeared the name in black and gold letters of each officer as he was awarded a decoration. At the head of the board was Captain Ball, Victoria Cross, and then under that Captain Ball, Légion d’Honneur, these two honours being posthumous awards for his service whilst with No. 56 Squadron. When he went his wonderful offensive spirit was preserved by the Squadron, and in Rhys-Davids we had a second Ball, for neither of them knew the word fear, and it was largely the splendid example which they set that made the Squadron do so extraordinarily well at a time when, taken collectively, the German
morale
was at its very zenith.

On about October 4th, the morning dawned dull and cloudy, and the O.C. insisted on us all leaving the camp for the day by way of a change, and so, having got his permission to use a motor cycle, I set off to look for the remains of the L.V.G., which I shot down in our lines at St. Julien on the 27th of September. I rode through Aire and up to Hazebrouck, and then on to Poperinghe via Steenvoorde.

By the time I arrived at Poperinghe it was lunch time, so my old squadron being quite near, I wended my way there for lunch and afterwards had a chat with Sergeant-Major Harrison and the many people I knew. Then I went on towards Ypres, where I made slower progress, for a lot of heavy fighting was still in progress, and the roads were blocked with traffic of all sorts. After passing through Ypres, St. Jean and Weiltje, I finally reached St. Julien, where a number of derelict tanks littered the place. I could not make further progress with the motor cycle, and I was rather fortunate in coming so far with it, for the ground was full of shell holes, and it was very difficult to trace the road from the ground around. I placed my motor cycle under the lee of a tank, and made my way on foot to Von Tirpitz Farm, which is half a mile east of St. Julien.

Long before I had reached the farm I had to stop and decide whether it was worth going on, for the enemy were shelling the ridge on which the farm lay very heavily, and although I could see the tail of the Hun sticking up in the air, which greatly bucked me up, I had at last to give up the idea of getting to the machine, for the Boches were dropping “crumps” all round it, and so I turned back and reached St. Julien just as the rain commenced to fall heavily.

It was now about 4 p.m., and there was a constant trickle of German prisoners on their way towards Ypres, some of them being used to carry our wounded. The prisoners’ faces as a rule gave no hint of their feelings.

I now managed to start my motor cycle; but after going a hundred yards found it impossible to make progress as the sticky mud jambed between the mudguards and wheels and so locked them. I was now in a sorry state, for I was covered in mud, wet through and very fed up. To make progress I had to push the motor cycle about fifty yards with the back wheel locked, and then stop to have a rest. It was exhausting work, as I had only a thin pair of shoes on, and I slipped at every step.

I was now also on a small side-road that led uphill to Weiltje, and no traffic was passing me at all. I longed to see a cart come along so that I could put the motor cycle aboard until I came to some
pavé
where the wheels would clog no more. Once when I stopped to rest there was a field battery just each side of me. They were both banging away to their heart’s content, and nearly deafened me.

All this gave me a taste of what the ground peoples’ job must be like up in the trenches all the year round, and then my thoughts wandered to my clean S.E. and the very gentlemanly way in which we fought aloft. I fully appreciate the thankless lot that the infantryman’s life must be and I am surprised that they carry on so well and so cheerfully through it all.

Presently I got on to the wider road at Weiltje and put my motor cycle on a G.S. wagon that was passing, but this only went for a few hundred yards before the driver said he was not going any further, so I took the machine off again and re-commenced pushing it. For at least another mile I pushed it until I came to some
pavé
, so here I stopped to clear the wheels from the mud and, having completed the job, got the motor cycle to go, with the aid of two Tommies, who gave me a good push off to start the cold engine. I now rode through St. Jean and Ypres.

On the other side of Ypres I passed about 100 German prisoners, who had just come down from the trenches, headed by an enormous officer, who looked a very fine specimen. I still remember the expression on his face as I passed by. He seemed to say: “Well, never mind; I’ve done my share, and I’m proud I’m German.”

Thence I passed on through great mud puddles, being splashed from head to foot by the water from the wheels of an endless chain of motor lorries wending their way trenchwards. By the time I reached Hazebrouck it was dark, and I still had a long journey to do. Before reaching Aire my lamp generator fell off and I could not find it; likewise I lost a German shrapnel helmet that I had collected. However, one of our tenders was just leaving Aire, and so I rode a few yards behind it, following the glare of its lamps, and about 7 o’clock I arrived back at the camp, wet through, cold and very fed up. I remember saying that it would be a damned long time before I rode another motor cycle up to the trenches again, and so it was too.

Nothing much happened of further interest to relate until October 17th, when I shot down another Hun two-seater within our lines. We left the ground at about 10 a.m. to do a patrol over our lines, as the wind was so strong from the west that I was given orders not to cross the lines. As we got our height over the Nieppe Forest, I saw that the visibility was very good, and so I thought that we should have some Huns over our lines.

Very soon a Hun came over Armentières and then turned south, but it was no use our chasing him, for we had not yet sufficient height, so we flew on up the line towards Ypres, and on our way I watched a Hun two-seater who was over Commines, apparently waiting to cross the lines as soon as we passed, so I went on as far as Ypres, over which we arrived at 14,000 feet.

Presently we saw a German two-seater scuttling towards Neuve Eglise, so very soon we were between him and his lines. The Hun was slightly higher than we were, and as we went towards him another Hun passed over us, whom some of my patrol turned to engage. However, now that the first Hun had seen us he came east towards us and then turned away west again, no doubt with the intention of trying to out-climb us, but I am sure he did not fully appreciate the performance of a well-tuned S.E.5.

Very soon I got to my position, and fired a good burst from my Vickers, when the L.V.G. at once burst into flames which issued from the centre section. While the Hun was turning to the left I could see the unfortunate observer standing up in an attitude of abject dejection. As he turned I saw that the flame, which had burnt the fabric off his rudder, had gone out, for apparently there was not much petrol in the tank in the centre section to burn for long. By now the Hun was gliding down towards the North, and as he had no means of turning either way I was interested in following him down until he landed in our lines, for we were now over Vlammertinghe, which was fifteen miles from the trenches. But now another member of the patrol arrived and at once commenced shooting at the poor unfortunate Hun, who went down in a dive and then broke to pieces, no doubt because of the weakening of the centre section of his wings by the fire. I followed the wreckage down till the Hun crashed and then landed alongside on some good stubble in order to put a guard on the Hun.

I left my engine ticking over while I went to look at the Hun, and I found two groups of Australian infantry. I pushed my way into the middle of the first group and found that the attraction was the observer, who had fallen from the machine at about 5,000 feet. He was a huge man named Ernst Hadrich, and seeing that he was dead I went over to the other group of men, about a hundred yards away, and here found the remains of the machine and the pilot.

Everything of any value in the way of souvenirs on the machine had already gone, for although I landed a very short time after the Hun came down, the Tommies had already taken what was worth taking, and the way they behaved around the machine was not very edifying from the disciplined point of view in which I had always been brought up.

Seeing that I could not do anything more, I went to have some lunch with a Sapper officer at an artillery group headquarters, where they were very good to me and gave me a good time. After lunch I re-started my engine and flew back to my aerodrome with my machine laden with various interesting fittings from the Hun machine, which was a new type of L.V.G. with all controls “balanced,” and for motive power a 200 h.p. Benz engine. To this day I have a very nice cigarette box made out of the propeller of that Hun.

When I got back to the aerodrome everyone was very pleased that I had got another Hun in our lines, and as all the patrol had seen it fall they were all very bucked about it.

On October 11th I led my patrol over the lines at 12,000 feet over Langemarck, and it was intensely cold, so cold in fact that I could hardly keep the water in my radiator warm enough. Soon after crossing the lines I saw a formation of Pfalz scouts over Westroosebeke just below us.