Authors: William Avery Bishop

Winged Warfare (15 page)

BOOK: Winged Warfare

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Chapter XXII

When I left the aerodrome to start for England, I had a vague feeling I would not be back again. I had heard nothing more about my transfer, but the very fact that there was a great deal of uncertainty made me anxious, and I remember when leaving the old place, turning around to have a last look at it. I was lucky to find a car going all the way to Boulogne that day, and with four others, one of whom was going back to England for good, we made the trip. On the way we stopped off at a village where there was a famous farm for French police dogs. We spent an interesting hour there, while the French lady who owned the dogs showed us all around her beautiful place. The dogs were of all ages, from two-weeks old puppies to full French champions. We left there just in time to reach Boulogne for luncheonâmy last meal in France, as I managed to catch a boat for England at two o'clock.

Eight o'clock that night saw me in London, and I was certainly glad to get there. At nine o'clock I was in the middle of a big dinner, given by several of my friends, after which we went to a dance. It seemed years since I had been near London, and every sight and every sound was joyful to me. A few days later, though, I left town and went to the country.

About this time word came through that I was not going back to France. I was very disappointed. I reported for duty, but was given a few weeks more leave in which to rest up. During this time I went to the investiture by the King. I had, on the previous day, received a telegram of instructions, telling me to report at Buckingham Palace at ten-thirty in the morning dressed in service uniform. At ten-ten I was there, not wishing to be behind time on such an occasion, and realising I had better find out before it happened, just what was expected of me. Walking into the Palace I came to a hat-stand, where everybody was checking things. I handed in my hat, gloves and stick, whereupon I was told to hang on to the gloves, wearing one on my left hand and carrying the other. Then, following a number of other officers, also there to be decorated, I came to a room in which a General was standing. I asked him where I was to go, and he asked me what I was getting. I began the long rigmarole of V. C., D. S. O., and M. C., but before I had finished he told me to go in with the D. S. O.'s, as I was the only V. C. So I slipped away into a room where there were about one hundred and fifty other officers. After waiting there for over half an hour, another General came in, and gave us explicit instructions as to what to do in the King's presence. It was a terrible moment for all of us.

Finally the doors opened and we were headed toward the room in which the King was standing with his staff. Following some Generals and Colonels, who were being admitted to the Order of St. Michael and St. George, it came my turn to march in. I knew my instructions well. Ten yards across to the middle of the room, and then a turn to the left and bow. Imagine my consternation, when, at the first of those ten paces, one of my boots began to squeak. Somehow or other I managed to get to the proper place, where I was facing His Majesty. Here I had to listen to an account of my own deeds, read by one of the staff, while I myself stood stiffly at attention. Then, approaching the King, he hooked three medals on my breast. These he had been handed on a cushion. He congratulated me upon winning them, and told me it was the first time he had been able to give all three to any one person.

After a short, one-sided conversation, in which my only attempt to speak failed utterly, although all I was trying to say was “Yes, sir,” he shook hands with me, and I bowed and backed away, turning and walking thirty squeaky paces to a door in the corner of the room. The moment I reached the outside of this door, I thought I had been thrown into the arms of a highway robber. A man suddenly stepped from one side and before I could stop him, had snatched the three glittering medals off my chest, and was fifteen yards ahead of me on the way down the hall, before I realised what had happened. I took after him, not knowing what to do, but he picked up three boxes from a table, put the medals in, and handed them back to me. Then he returned to meet the next man coming out, who incidentally was a great friend of mine, and also in the Flying Corps. The next thing to be faced was the crowd at the Palace gates, and the photographers. Luckily, I had a car waiting in the enclosure, and by getting into this managed to evade everybody.

A week later I was promoted to the rank of Major, and also learned that I had been awarded a bar to my Distinguished Service Order ribbon. Good news, like bad luck, never comes singly. A few days after that I heard I had been granted permission to go home to Canada for a visit. The notice was short, but within eighteen hours I had made all arrangements, and was on a train to catch the boat sailing from Liverpool next day. Within two weeks I was home.

THE END

About the Author

William Avery “Billy” Bishop
was born in 1894 in Owen Sound, and went on to become Canada's most famous First World War aviator. Bishop attended Royal Military College in Kingston with his brother, but left when the war broke out to join the Mississauga Horse cavalry regiment. In England, Bishop quickly transferred to the Royal Flying Corps and became an observer. After recovering from a knee injury, Bishop trained at the Central Flying School and gained his wings in November 1916. Over the course of his war career, Bishop is credited with shooting down seventy-two enemy aircraft and was awarded the Military Cross, the Distinguished Service Medal, and the Victoria Cross for his service. Upon his return to Canada, Bishop wrote his autobiography
Winged Warfare
. He died in 1956 at the age of 62.

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EPub Edition April 2014 ISBN: 9781443435338

This title is in Canada's public domain and is not subject to any licence or copyright.

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