Winged Warfare (14 page)

I then made an acquaintance, whom I grew to know quite well during the next week or so. It was a silver machine, with small black crosses on it. The pilot had carefully painted his machine, as the silver had been put on to represent the scales of a fish, and covered his planes as well as the body of his machine. During this fight he caused me a lot of worry. Several times I was just able to concentrate on one of two others, when this flying fish would butt in, and force me to a great deal of manoeuvring to escape him. Over and over again, while under me, he would pull up his nose and open fire. I would then point my nose down and open back at him, and he would turn away. This was his one weakness; he would not come head on, so I tried that bluff whenever he began to fire at me.

It was well that I knew this during the fights which followed in the next week. In the middle of this fight both of my guns suddenly jammed, and I could not get them to work. I struggled with them, all the time manoeuvring around so that I would not be hit myself. One of the enemy, besides the silver man, had noticed that my guns would not fire, and the two of them came at me, and came right up close on one occasion. Just as they did this I managed to get my guns to work, and opening fire, sent the second man down out of control. Old “Silversides,” however, had been too wily to even get near the range of my guns, and did nothing but cause me a lot of worry. It was getting dark now, and time to break off the fight, so I decided to escape. Once again the silver fellow came butting in. Every time I would turn toward the lines, he would come at me and open fire. I would dart across his sights, giving him a hard shot, then suddenly turn as if I were going to fire at him. He would turn the nose of his machine away immediately, and I would have a chance to again make a dart for the front. In this way I managed to reach the lines, where he left me. I then returned home, with two more machines to my credit.

The next machine I got was the fortieth aeroplane I had brought down, and counting my two balloons, the forty-second victory to my credit. I had gone out in the morning, about half-past eight and there did not seem to be many aeroplanes in the sky. I saw a single-seater some distance in toward Germany, and went in after him. He was, however, no picnic. The pilot was one of the very best. Several times we almost got shots at each other, but never a good one. Finally, I opened fire at random, and was greatly surprised to see him go into a spinning dive, but it looked suspicious, and I watched. A little below me he regained control. I dived vertically after him, but was diving too fast, so shot right by him, and he turned away and tried to escape, diving in the opposite direction. I had a second dive after him, but he again went into a spin, even before I had opened fire, and continued spinning straight into the clouds, where I lost him. I had the comfort, however, of knowing that he was not very happy in that spin, as all the time he was going down I was rattling away at him with my guns.

Fifteen minutes later, I brought down that fortieth machine. I had seen a two-seater at a tremendous height above me, just a speck in the sky. I was not sure at the moment whether he was British or German, and decided, as there was nothing more interesting, to fly in his direction. He was about two miles our side of the lines, and I imagine now that he was busy taking photographs. When I was about a mile away he saw me, and headed for home. I was still 2,000 feet underneath him, and owing to climbing, was not approaching very fast. However, he did the thing I wished for most of all; he put his nose down to lose height, and gain more speed. I was much faster than he was, so I flew level. In a few minutes he had reached my level, and was still losing height. We were now four or five miles inside his own lines, and I was also losing height slightly to gain greater speed. Finally I managed to get partly into the blind spot underneath his tail, and was rather amused at the observer firing away merrily all the time at me, even when he could hardly see me. I decided to stay there for a minute, in the hope that his gun would jam, or something of that sort happen. Then I proposed to dash in and finish him off at close range. But we travelled on another two miles without anything happening, and had now come down to 6,000 feet. It was getting too low for my liking, and we were too far from home, so opening my machine full out I shot in to seventy-five yards from him, and fired. One burst did the trick, and he began falling in every conceivable sort of way. I rather hoped he would go into flames or fall to pieces, but nothing of that sort occurred, and finally, in a spinning nose dive, he crashed into a field.

Then I had one of the nastiest times of my life; the return trip home. At 6,000 feet I started. Every anti-aircraft gun in the neighbourhood opened fire at me, and they did some wonderful shooting that day. Everywhere I turned there seemed to be huge shells bursting. Several times I heard the little “plank” as they hit my machine in some place, and once quite a large piece struck a plane. I decided that I would lose still more height, in order to come home at a tremendous pace, but in my excitement had forgotten which way the wind was blowing, and have later decided that was why I was such an easy mark. I was going straight into the teeth of a forty-mile gale, and consequently my speed was much slower than I thought it was. The “Archie” people seemed to have gone mad or anxious to use up all the ammunition they had in France; anyway, the air was black with bursting shells, and after I had finally reached the lines I looked back, and for five miles could see a path of black smoke from the shells which had been fired at me. They must have fired five hundred in all, but luckily I was still intact.

One day, just at this time, I had truly a wonderful surprise. It had been a very rainy day, and as there was no flying I went over to lunch with a cousin of mine, who was stationed only three miles away. After luncheon I returned, and upon seeing my new squadron commander, went up to speak to him. He told me that the General in command of the Flying Corps had been trying to get me on the telephone, and said he wanted to speak to me when I came in. I could not imagine why so important a person as the General should want to speak to “little me,” but rang him up. My cup of happiness overflowed when he told me that he wanted to be the first to congratulate me upon being awarded the Victoria Cross.

I could hardly hold myself down after hearing the great news. Walking across the aerodrome to the squadron headquarters, which was stationed on the other side, I had tea with the men there and then came back. The next night we had a big celebration in the way of a dinner, and managed to collect guests who came quite big distances to be there. It was a wonderful success, lasting until after midnight, and several of our guests remained all night and returned early the next morning.

I had a most exciting fight soon after this. The Germans seemed to know my machine, which I had had specially marked with red, white and blue paint, and in nearly every fight I found that many attempts were made to trap me. Several times I had very narrow escapes in getting away, but always managed at the last moment to squeeze out of it.

It was while flying just under the clouds, I suspected a trap, as the machine with which I was fighting did not seem particularly anxious to come to close quarters, so I pulled my machine back and “zoomed” up through the clouds. The layer was very thin, and I suddenly emerged in blue sky on the upper side, and just as I did so, I saw the last of a group of German scouts diving vertically. A little to one side, there was a huge black burst of German high explosive. The whole thing was obvious to me at once. The pilot under the clouds had led me to this particular spot, while the people above had been signalled when to dive through to get me.

My revenge was very sweet, because in the heat of the moment, not minding the odds, I dived after them. I came out to find them still diving in front of me, so being not far from one machine, and directly behind it, I opened fire with both guns. It did not need careful shooting; the man went down, never knowing he was hit, continuing his dive straight into the ground. I then pulled up and climbed back into the clouds, and over them, and got away without even a bullet hole in my machine.

That same afternoon I had several more fights, and ran up against my silver friend again. He was a most persistent rascal, although not very brave in actual fight, and would never leave me alone when I was trying to quit a combat. Several times he followed me right back over our own side of the lines, firing every chance he could get. But even when he was fairly certain my; guns were not working, he would not come to close quarters, which, however, was probably lucky for me. He was not a good shot from long range, but the next day he managed to get underneath one of our machines and shot it about quite badly, causing it to return at once and land, seriously damaged.

Several indecisive fights took place about this time, much on the same lines as many others I have described ; each one as exciting as the others, but much the same story, both sides ending by breaking off the combats and returning. Several times we lost pilots, and also several times others of the squadron shot down enemy machines.

The weather was very bad for some time after this, and although we prayed and prayed for just a few days to get a chance to fight, each morning would find us more restless and worked up because there did not seem to be a chance to get into the air at all.

I was especially keen at this time to fly every moment that was possible, because I had learned a few days before, that I would likely be returned to England shortly, for a job there of some sort. I was not at all keen on this, but being a soldier it was not, of course, my opinion that counted, and my work was simply to do as I was told, and to go where I was sent.

One evening I fell into a very nasty trap indeed, just at dusk. I had suddenly seen a single machine of the enemy in front of me, and slightly below. It seemed too good to be true, and I should have known that there was something funny about it; however, down I went on top of him, but somehow missed with my first burst of fire. He dived away a bit and I kept on after him, but by continually diving he kept just out of my reach. This started at ten thousand feet down, and I finally found myself at two thousand, and well in the enemy territory. Then, at last I suspected a trap, and looked about to see what was likely to happen. Sure enough, from above enemy machines were coming down after me, so I turned toward my own lines. There in front of me were twelve more of the Huns. This left nothing to do but turn back and fly further into enemy territory. This I did, losing height so as to increase my speed. Along I went, with the whole swarm behind. It was lucky for me that my machine was so much faster than theirs. I had to zigzag in my course until I was at least four hundred yards in the lead of their first machine, then I flew straight. Dusk was coming on and I was late, and worried as to what to do.

However, there was no advantage in giving in, so I went on as fast as I could tear. I was terrified that I would meet another patrol, but after I had gone about twenty miles straight east, I realised the chance for that was very slight, and this comforted me a great deal. But I was still worried as to how I was to get home, as I knew they would wait higher up for me if I climbed. As dusk settled down, I managed to shake off the pack and get completely out of their sight. Then I climbed steadily and turned back toward our own lines. It was light in the upper sky, but quite dark near the ground, and I was at least thirty miles over the German lines. I was never so mad in my life, the annoying part being that such a simple little trick had fooled me into getting into such a nasty position. I had to fly by compass in the approximate direction of home and just as I reached the lines sighted a lighthouse which I knew, flashing in the dusk. I was happy then and able to land in the last five minutes of light. If I had been just that much later, it would have meant a bad crash landing, for I would have had no idea as to the exact spot where the aerodrome was; but luck was with me still, and I came down without even straining a wire of my machine.

I was disgusted with myself, as it was a bad show, taken all around, and so mad that I would not hand in a report to tell the shameful tale on me.

The day that I learned I was likely to return to England I went out in the evening, and in a very short space of time crammed in a lot of excitement. Flying around beneath the clouds, I had been unable for a time to find anything to fight. There was a complete layer of clouds all over the sky, and this made flying in enemy territory very difficult. The dark sky was such a good background the anti-aircraft guns could pick you out with great accuracy. I forgot about such troubles quickly when I saw several of the enemy some five miles on their side of the lines. Wanting to surprise them, I climbed up to the clouds and then through them. At first I went into what seemed a very sullen cloud, with dark grey and heavy mist all about me, the view being limited to a space of ten feet. As I climbed higher up, the colour grew lighter and lighter until at last above me was nothing but blue sky and sunshine. The top of the clouds was as flat as a table. It looked as if one could land on it and sit there all day.

I kept flying along, carefully watching my compass to get the correct direction, also gazing at the beautiful cloud pictures around me, when suddenly, just above, I heard the old wicked rattle of a pair of machine guns. Pulling up, I looked about and saw coming down straight on me from in front, three enemy scouts. The leader, to my great joy, I recognised as the man who had trapped me so badly in the fight just told of. He was well ahead of the other two who were trailing behind him, and I knew if I could only shoot well, I would have a chance to get him without being worried by the others, until they could reach the fight. On we came, head on, both firing as fast as we could. I saw his smoking bullets going streaking by about four feet above my head, and what annoyed me a bit was the fact that they were passing that spot in a well concentrated group, showing that he had his shooting well in hand, and was quite cool. I have never fired with more care in my life. I took sight on the engine of his machine, knowing, if I hit it, some of the bullets would slide along its edge and get the pilot, who was just behind. On we came toward each other, at tremendous speed. I could see my bullets hitting his machine, and at the same instant his bullets scattered badly, so it was obvious he had become nervous, and was not shooting as well as before. Suddenly he swerved, and tried to pass slightly to my left. I kept going straight at him, firing both guns. My bullets were all around the pilot's seat now, and seemed to be hitting him. The next machine had come in now, firing at me, and too near for me to turn after the first one, so I turned toward the second Hun. My third opponent did not like the look of the fight, and kept well off to one side, diving away to escape, a few seconds later. I looked over my shoulder to see what was happening to the first man, and was overjoyed to see his machine a mass of flames and smoke, just commencing to fall. The second man I manoeuvred with, doing almost two complete turns before being able to get in the shot I wanted. Then there was no trouble at all. With the first round, he also burst into flames, and fell, following the other through the clouds. I looked for the third man, who had just dived away, anxious to wipe out the whole crowd. I dived after him. Down through the clouds we plunged and emerging I saw he was well out of my reach. So I turned to watch my two victims. They were both falling within a thousand feet of each other, two flaming masses, crashing in death to the earth.

In a few days I was to go on another leave to England, so I put in every moment that I could in the air, trying to increase the number of machines to my credit. In this way, one evening, I came upon three, and managed to surprise them in the old way that I had done so often when I was flying a Nieuport. I dived on the rear and highest one, but found I did not have the patience to crawl up to my usual range. Two guns hardly made it necessary as before, so I opened fire at a little over a hundred yards. As in the old days, there was no second stage to it at all; down he went completely out of control, and I stayed above, the other two having escaped, and watched him falling eight thousand feet.

This was my forty-fifth victory, and the next day I had my forty-sixth and forty-seventh, in two fights shortly following one another.

It was the evening before I was to leave for England, and to my great disgust, I had been unable to catch sight of a single German. So I flew north to watch a Canadian attack at Lens. There was a great battle going on, and for fifteen minutes I watched it raging. Then, chancing to look up above me, I saw a two-seater of the enemy, coming toward our lines. It really seemed to be just a godsend, so I went straight at him almost head on; that is, coming up slightly from below, but in front of him. I fired at him as I came, and as no result appeared, when I was one hundred yards away, I dived and came up, pointing my nose straight up into the sky, as he flew across over me. Then I fired again. Suddenly the planes on one side of the Hun appeared to break and fall back, then to sweep away entirely, and the machine fell in fragments. It was not a nice sight. I had evidently hit the machine in a lucky place, which had caused it to break, but in all probability the occupants were still alive. However, it was not for me to pity them, at that stage of the game, and I could not put them out of their misery, so I remained above and watched them fall.

Two scouts had appeared just before I attacked this two-seater, but when I went toward them they had flown away. A minute later I saw them flying toward me. They did not want to fight, though, and turned away, heading in an easterly direction. The range was too far for me to open fire, so I chased them a bit, a distance of about two miles. They managed to keep three hundred yards away and as the wind was blowing me into Germany at the rate of sixty miles an hour, besides my own speed, I decided it was not worthwhile. Before leaving off the chase I thought I might as well send a few shots after them, as it might be my last chance to fight in France. I took very careful aim on the rear machine and opened fire. The Hun suddenly went into a spinning nose dive, and fell toward the earth. I did not think for a moment I had hit him at that range, but watched to see just what game the German was playing. Down he went all the way from thirteen thousand feet to the ground, and crashed—a complete wreck. A lucky bullet must have hit the pilot and killed him instantly. It was indeed my last fight in France, and the next day I went to England on leave, and also to attend an investiture at Buckingham Palace, at which I was to receive the whole three of my decorations.