by Griff Hosker
“You did well today. Apart from Harry’s deviation from standing orders it was text book but tomorrow they will be ready for us. We will go three hours later.”
“Why sir?”
I pointed east with the stem of my pipe. “I think they will have their aeroplanes in the air tomorrow waiting for us. Their endurance is three hours. By arriving three hours later we should catch them on the ground. I am trying to be unpredictable and this time we will approach from Petrograd. I intend us to take photographs tomorrow. Hunt and Charlton, you will photograph the Bolshevik fleet and we will then photograph Petrograd. We will be ten miles away but they may help the Admiral. If we have destroyed the enemy, then we photograph the airfield. If not, we finish the job and then photograph it before we leave if we are able. If we are unable to do so then we may have to make a third visit. I hope not.”
“Will we have enough fuel, sir?”
“We are going to fly at a thousand feet. That will save fuel. I have seen no evidence of anti-aircraft guns. Now I want you all to tell Lieutenant Nash what you did and the damage you inflicted.”
“Sir, I am only a Subbie!”
I handed him the letter, “Not any more, Lieutenant Nash. The Admiral has promoted you. Well done.”
Even Harry was pleased by the news. It made everyone have a spring in their step. I read the report before Nash took it to the captain. We had destroyed or damaged seventeen aeroplanes. I estimated that there were eight or ten left. It was hard to be sure and we would need the evidence of photographs to be certain.
That evening the five of us were applauded as we entered the mess. It was partly pleasure at Nash’s promotion, he was a very popular officer, but it was also celebrating our success. Rear Admiral Alexander-Sinclair had captured two destroyers but that had been before H.M.S. Vindictive had joined the flotilla. We were a team and all enjoyed our success. I dare say the Air Gunners would have been enjoying a similar celebration in their mess.
Lieutenant Nash sat with my three pilots. I had warned them not to drink too much. I saw that they obeyed me. Hood’s wound and the damage to the Strutter had shown the dangers and they heeded my advice.
Captain Parr said, “I can see why you were sent by Mr. Churchill. Your experience is invaluable.”
“A bit like yourself sir.”
“Not really, Bill, this is the first time I have commanded a carrier. There is much to learn. All of this turning into the wind and the lack of as many guns as I am used to takes some getting used to. Still it has been relatively easy. Had we been under attack then I am not certain how we would have coped.”
I retired early having first ensured that my men would soon follow. I wrote a few lines to Beattie. It was a sort of diary. I now had a son who would want to know what I had done. My letters would be a record.
We had the luxury of a late rise. I went to the sick bay after breakfast to speak with Hood. He looked sheepish. “How are you Hood? Are they looking after you?”
“Yes sir and I feel a bit of a fraud. It is just a flesh wound.”
“It is more than that. Besides your bus needs some work so don’t rush it eh?”
“Sir, it wasn’t Mr. Greaves’ fault. I just forgot about being economical with my bullets. I got carried away.”
“I know. It is easy to do but if you had done as I said then you might have claimed a kill. You could have brought down the Albatros.”
“I know, sir. Good luck for today.”
“Well we shall bring back the photographs and you can see the results of your handiwork. Although as I told your pilots, we only count kills if the blighters are in the air.”
We had the three cameras ready and my two pilots knew what was expected of them. I would lead, once more, and assess the situation. Having done this once my two crews were more confident. As we took off I noticed there was cloud cover. It was not enough to cause us problems but bespoke a new front coming in. I wondered if the delay might cause us problems.
Sergeant Hepplewhite had assured me that I had more fuel this time. He had measured it and told me that he managed to put in another four pints compared with the previous day. We followed the same course for the first part. Guns popped ineffectually at us as we flew to the east of Totleben. Our course was slightly different and I flew between the most eastern fort of the chain and the small town of Lisy Nos. A mile or two beyond Lisy Nos I turned and saw Petrograd to the east. I took a couple of photographs. The two Air Observers behind me would be able to take better ones.
As we approached the coast I saw Peterhof to the west of us. More importantly I did not see any aeroplanes in the air. I dropped us down to five hundred feet. To the south west of us I saw the windsock. We were on course and I placed my two Mills bombs between my legs before removing the jacket from the Vickers and cocking them. Turning south and west I saw that there were two Fokker D V’s taking off. They had seen us. We would have to wait for the photographs until we had bombed the field and dealt with the two D.Vs. They were similar to my two Strutters.
I signalled for my two pilots to bomb the field. I saw that there were other aeroplanes on the ground. I dropped to a hundred feet and opened the throttle. It meant that, albeit briefly, I was travelling at more than my maximum speed. I was going much faster than the two aeroplanes which began to rise. I could have risked a long shot as the two aeroplanes made perfect crosses in my sights. But I did not want to waste bullets. The two of them split left and right. I followed the closest one. I was gaining on him so quickly that I knew I would be able to hit him. When he began to bank and he crossed in front of my sights just eighty feet from me, I opened fired. My bullets stitched a line from his engine, through his cockpit and across his upper wing. His wing began to dip as the engine faltered and stopped.
He was as good as destroyed and I banked right, desperately seeking the other Fokker. He had got onto my tail. I heard his bullets as he fired, prematurely, and then I saw him in the mirror. I could climb twice as fast as he could. I pulled back on the yoke. I heard his single gun as he desperately tried to fire at me. I was always going away from him. His bullets made a parabola and fell harmlessly to earth. I heard the crump of the Strutter’s bombs. My men were doing what they had been ordered and I could concentrate on this pilot behind me.
As I reached the top of the turn I felt the blood draining from me. I became dizzy. I had done this before and knew what to expect. I suspected the Russian pilot did not. As I began the descent I knew that I would be catching him. His bullets had stopped. He was still trying to catch me but it was a lost cause. He pulled out of the loop to bank left. Had he tried that in the Dr 1, triplane, he would have ripped off the wings. The D V was slower but more robust.
Instead of following his bank left I banked right. He would lose sight of me and allow me to come at him from the west. He would have the sun in his eyes. I kept my eye on him and I saw his head swivel from side to side as he sought me out. I was in his blind spot. An experienced pilot would have used lateral movements to find me. With the sun behind me I banked to port and readied my gun. I felt almost sorry for the Bolshevik. He had almost outwitted me but I had the better aeroplane. He saw me and swung around to fly directly at me. I had no doubt that he would not blink first. Honour was at stake and his comrades on the ground were watching him. I readied the Vickers I had not fired. We were approaching each other at a combined speed of over two hundred miles an hour. I fired first and I gave a long burst. It took him by surprise. He fired back and then his gun stopped. I guessed he had runout of bullets. By then it was too late. Eighty bullets had shredded his propeller and gone through his engine. I pulled up the nose. Had he had any bullets left then I was an easy target. We were still quite low and I heard an enormous explosion as he hit the ground.
I looked in my mirror and saw that my two Strutters had taken station to port and starboard. They were a couple of hundred feet behind me. I saw that their racks were empty. I turned to head down the airfield. I saw burning aeroplanes and bu
rning buildings. I saw tents laid out to one side. There were four marquees and forty or so smaller tents. They were undamaged. My men had gone, as I had instructed, for the buildings. I dropped to fifty feet and zoomed over the field. I pulled a pin from a Mills bomb and dropped it to port and did the same to starboard. I pulled up the nose and heard the crump of the grenades. I held up my right arm and slowed down. The two of them pulled alongside me. I made the sign for photographs and received the thumbs up. They had done so. I whirled my right hand over my head. Time to go home.
I thought the journey home would be uneventful but, as I looked in my mirror I saw black clouds forming. There was a weather front coming in. I was forced to travel back at the speed of the Strutters and the front caught up with us. It was not the rain and the wind which worried me, it was the landing on a pitching deck. I had a back-up plan and that was to pancake in Finland but I would only use that if we could not land at all. We would be in the hands of the Air Mechanic with the paddles.
When I saw the smoke from the flotilla I breathed a sigh of relief. We had found our ship but the rain was now making me not only uncomfortable but also making it hard to see. The Air Mechanic on the pitching deck was our only hope
Bob Newton landed first. It was not the prettiest of landings. He came down hard and I knew that his undercarriage would have suffered damage. Peter Rogers was just plain unlucky. A sudden gust caught him as he touched down and the tip of his upper wing caught the turret of a gun. He spun around. I thought he might tip over the side but Petty Office Banks and his men threw themselves at the undercarriage and lower wing. They held it.
It meant that I was waved off although I had not even contemplated landing. I flew over the carrier and circled the flotilla. I did not want them to think they had to hurry although I was aware that I was running out of fuel. The two dogfights had burned up more fuel than was healthy. I saw the sailors on the cruisers staring up at me. I banked slowly to make my approach again. They had cleared a path on the flight deck and I lined up. It would not be easy for the weather was on the edge of dangerous. I aimed for the carrier and kept my eye on the paddles. If I was waved off I would have to try to make it to Finland. The deck was pitching and I realised that having a mechanic with paddles was the only way to make a safe landing. He kept me straight in relation to the deck. The deck was rising and falling. As I touched down I felt my wheels start to slide for the deck was slick with sleet and snow. In a perfect world, they would have cleared it. We did not have a perfect world and the snow was as deadly an enemy as the Bolshevik bullets. I cut my engine. My tail began to swing around. Luckily, I did not strike anything and after two revolutions I stopped.
I took the camera and held it over the side. George Baker took hold of it. He peered up at me, “Well sir, that was a lucky one.”
“They say, Baker, that any landing you can walk away from is a good one. Perhaps it should be a lucky one eh? How are Mr. Rogers and Mr. Newton?”
“Both fine sir. Mr. Nash ordered them below decks. He did not want to have too many people here and if you would get out sir then we can put this one to bed. She is our only whole aeroplane!”
I climbed out and Lieutenant Nash came over. The wind was now blowing so hard that conversation was hard. “The Captain is putting back into port, sir. This storm is here for a while.” He smiled, and shouted, “A fantastic landing sir!”
“I think I have much to learn about landing on a carrier Mr. Nash. The other two cameras have the photographs of the airfield. Mine are of the fleet and Petrograd.”
“There is no rush, sir. I will do a better job this time. The last lot were a little grainy. I think I rushed it. I was too keen trying to impress. We have a brew on and the cook made scones. There is strawberry jam too!”
“No clotted cream?”
He laughed, “There is a war on, sir!”
“Then when we have tied up we shall all have a run ashore! We need to celebrate, Mr. Nash. Although I await the photographs to confirm it I do not believe there is a Bolshevik Air Force in Peterhof to worry the flotilla.”
There was good natured banter as I debriefed them. Lieutenant Nash seemed to relish his role and I had high hopes for him. When Major Donald took over the young lieutenant would be a valuable asset. It took longer to debrief than I had expected and we had anchored before we had finished. However, the weather was so poor that there would be no launch to take us ashore. The men were disappointed but, with no prospect of flying the next day I allowed them to celebrate in the mess.
The storm had abated somewhat the next day and the captain, Lieutenant Nash and myself were taken by launch to the Caledon where we would examine the photographs in the presence of the Rear Admiral. As we went up to the Admiral’s quarters we met a young lieutenant coming out.
“Gus Agar! What on earth are you doing here?”
“Captain Parr! This is a surprise. I am here with some torpedo boats. Some captain in London seems to think that we can sink the Bolshevik fleet with them. I shall see you later. I am assigned here with my CML.”
“I should hang on here, Gus. We have photographs of the fleet. They may be of some use to you.”
“Jolly good show sir. Yes, I shall wait here.”
As soon as the Rear Admiral realised what we had he called in the young Lieutenant. We were only needed to explain the position of the fleet in relation to the island. When we looked at the airfield we could see that any aeroplanes which were left were so badly damaged as to render them useless. “Of course, sir, they will get some more. The Germans will be punished in the peace talks at Versailles, I daresay. The French, in particular, are not happy about them. The Bolsheviks will buy more. Next time they will defend them better.”
The Rear Admiral clapped and rubbed his hands together, “That may be true, Squadron Leader, but this is all falling into place. If Lieutenant Agar and his new-fangled torpedo boats can destroy or badly damage the Bolshevik fleet, then we can support General Yudenich and he might just take Petrograd. That would be a great victory. You and your pilots are to be commended!”
“Don’t forget the ground crew and gunners, sir. Not to mention Mr. Nash here.”
“Quite, good show all around! Oh, I forgot to say, your Mr. Rees is still here in port but the Count has toddled back across the Baltic. I believe Mr. Rees would like to see you. At your convenience, of course.”
We spent longer analysing the photographs and Lieutenant Agar took away the ones of the fleet. The time of the aeroplane was almost over and soon it would be the time of the torpedo boat. Major Donald and his aeroplanes would be the ones to deal with the next Bolshevik aerial threat.
Once back at the carrier I decided to write my reports before I headed ashore. In truth, I was intrigued. Why had the military attaché stayed and why had the Count left? We were just half a mile off shore and the Captain’s own launch took me in. Some officers had been granted shore leave, along with my air crew and so a tender accompanied us.
“Chief, you can take the Captain’s launch back. I shall get a ride with the tender when shore leave is over at ten.”
“Are you sure sir? I can wait. It is no trouble.”
“I will be fine.”
He nodded towards my sidearm. “I should keep that handy, sir. There are Bolshevik sympathisers all over and they would love to get their hands on a British officer.”
“I will be with the military attaché. I think I should be safe enough.”
“Right then, sir. Enjoy your evening.”
Mr. Rees strolled up five minutes after the launch had gone. He looked as dapper as ever. “My dear fellow, I understand that congratulations are in order. You have completed your mission.”
“Yes sir. I am glad to say that although they had numbers and courage they had no skills whatsoever.”
“Come along then we need to talk. There is a pleasant little restaurant around the corner. I have reserved a table.”
The snow had stopped but the cold had intensified. I w
as glad to be in out of the icy, Arctic wind. I saw that Mr. Rees had chosen a corner table with two walls behind us so that we could not be overheard. He seemed to have a gift for languages for he rattled off an order. “I have taken the liberty of choosing. All the food tastes pretty much the same but I have ordered reindeer. It is quite a pleasant taste and they do it with a good cloudberry sauce.”
“As I have never had either that seems agreeable. Where is Vladimir? I expected to see him with you.”
He leaned over, “Shall we wait until our drinks arrive before we chat. We are less likely to be overheard that way. Our food will take thirty minutes or so.” He smiled, “I came last week to time it all. Preparation, preparation!”
I was bemused but Mr. Rees did not seem to do things in an inefficient manner. I would trust him. The drinks arrived. He had ordered us two beers. He smiled again, “They do a wonderful drink here called Marskin ryyppy. It is, however, a little powerful and we shall save that for after we have eaten.” He nodded to the waiter and then leaned in to speak to me after he had gone to see to other diners. “Now, Vladimir. He has, I fear, left my service and joined the staff of the Count. It is a mistake but he his headstrong and determined to fight for Russia. I tried to dissuade him.”
“I do not trust the Count.”
“My dear fellow he is the most untrustworthy man I have ever met. I stayed close to him to try to find out exactly whose side he was on. I did not manage to do so. He could be out for himself and, equally, he could be working for the Bolsheviks.”
“The Bolsheviks?”
“Oh, they can be quite pragmatic. They will use anyone to attain their ends. However, it is a moot point as the Count has decided that he has what he wants. He now has the ear of General Yudenich. He told the General that he arranged for your aeroplanes to destroy the Bolshevik aeroplanes.”
“But we only finished the job today! How does he know?”
“I was with him until yesterday evening. We met with the general at the border at Krasnaya Gorka. It is less than twenty miles from Peterhof. The spy he had planted in Peterhof brought the news. I was there to confirm that the Count had ordered the raid and then I was dismissed and Vladimir left me. I took a boat over here immediately. It was a ghastly journey.”