Ten minutes later I had climbed up and was above the two scouts, so decided to give them at least a scare. I opened fire at long range, and, for a moment, thought I had hit one of them. He went into a spin, but two thousand feet below flattened out and flew away. The other one climbed, and I could not catch him, so turned and flew north.
Another two-seater, who had been flying along the lines, was now three thousand feet above me. I opened fire at him from underneath, at very long range, but, of course, could not hit, the range being too long.
Many exciting fights occurred with the machines doing artillery observation. They were a very difficult proposition. They knew for a certainty they would be attacked, and would fly in threes and fours, or more, going about on their beat all together, and helping their own lines, and at a height of three thousand feet. It made it very difficult for us to attack, as, the height being low, we would have to make a dash across the lines at them, and then back again. Over and over again one would carefully figure out where they would be nearest the lines, then, at that moment, dash across at full speed. The enemy, immediately upon seeing the anti-aircraft shells burst around you, would turn east and fly towards home, going as fast as they could, and at the same time losing height. It meant that to really destroy or damage them, one had to fly ten or twelve miles in to catch them; then they would only be at a height of some five hundred or a thousand feet. This was our task. The anti-aircraft fire was terrific; going in not as bad as coming back, but the moment we turned to come home all the guns in the neighbourhood would open at us, and, if we were low enough, we would also be subjected to the most intense machine-gun fire from the ground.
This did not occur once a week; it was a thing that happened to each one of us three and four times, or even more, in the course of a morning’s work, and was the most trying job we had to do. Most of the fights followed the same lines, three or four of us crossing at full speed, zigzagging slightly in our course to upset the aim of the “Archies,” and then following closely the enemy machines, which were all the time directing a steady machine-gun fire at us. Our object was more to frighten them away than really to bring them down. Then would come a quick turn, and a dash back home. This would be very hard to do. One would turn suddenly to the right or left, trying to evade the bursting shells, but they were cracking on all sides. It would seem that one could not possibly get through them, and the thought that one little bit of shell in the engine would put the whole machine out of business, was enough to give anybody nerves. As it was, we were nearly always hit by small fragments, but this was considered nothing, and, of course, no reason for not liking the job. My previous experience in escorting the photography machines had taught me that other people have to stand anti-aircraft fire, as well as ourselves, and for them, being larger and slower, it is a thousand times worse.
Chapter XV
My record of machines brought down was now in the vicinity of twenty, and I saw I had a rare chance of really getting a lot before going on my next leave—at the end of my second three months at the front.
With this object in view, I planned an expedition into the enemy country, to attack an enemy aerodrome. I had carefully thought it out, and came to the conclusion that if one could get to an aerodrome when there were some machines on the ground, and none in the air, it would be an easy matter to shoot them down the moment they would attempt to come up. It would be necessary for them to take off straight into the wind, if there was a strong wind at all, so I could not be surprised that way, and would be able to hit them if I. came low enough, before they would get a chance to manoeuvre or turn out of my way.
I planned this expedition after much thought, and set it for the second of June, as that was to be my day off. Dawn was the hour I considered advisable, as there would be very few machines in the air, and I would have a great chance of evading trouble on the way to the aerodrome. I spent my spare moments, the next few days, arranging the details.
In the meantime, I had several more fights. On the thirty-first of May I went out in the morning about eight o’clock, and the sky seemed deserted. However, I crossed over into enemy territory, and in a few minutes sighted two machines. They were flying south. I followed, and suddenly they began to spiral down. Apparently they had just finished their time in the air, and were coming down to land. So I flew as quickly as I could, and reached the nearest one, whom I attacked, firing a burst from fifty yards range. I missed him completely, I think. He turned and we had quite a fight, lasting four or five minutes. Luckily, his companion had not seen us, and had kept on going down. My opponent seemed a very good man, and every time, just as I thought I was going to get in a burst of fire, he would make some clever manoeuvre and evade me altogether, with the result that I was having a very hard time myself, and had to keep my eyes open so that he would not get a good shot at me. For a moment or two I was a bit worried, but suddenly I managed to get slightly behind him, and at a favourable angle, only fifteen yards away. I pulled the trigger, and his machine fell out of control. Much pleased, I waited over the spot to see him crash—which he did.
The next morning, remembering my bad shooting in the beginning of this fight, I spent some extra time on the target at the aerodrome. During that day I went out no less than four times, looking for a fight, but in only one case did I even get near enough to open fire at an enemy machine; that time only getting within one hundred and fifty yards of it. Two of us went after him, but, as usual, he decided that it was not healthy, and putting his engine full on, dived away as quickly as he could go, to the tune of our machine guns behind him. However, it had no result except to frighten him. He did not return. The remainder of that day all the German machines seemed very nervous, and we could not get within range of any of them.
Now came the day planned for my expedition. I wrote my name on the blackboard, the night before, to be called at three o’clock, and sat down, for the last time, to consider exactly if the job was worth the risk. However, as nothing like it had been done before, I knew that I would strike the Huns by surprise, and, considering that, I decided the risk was not nearly so great as it seemed, and that I might be able to get four or five more machines to my credit, in one great swoop.
At three o’clock I was called and got up. It was pitch black. I dressed, and went in to tell two of my friends that I was off. They were not entirely in favour of the expedition, and said so again. Notwithstanding this I went on to the aerodrome, and got away just as the first streaks of dawn were showing in the upper sky.
I flew straight across the lines, toward the aerodrome I had planned to attack, and coming down low, decided to carry out my plan, and stir them up with a burst of machine-gun fire into their hangar sheds. But, on reaching the place, I saw there was nothing on the ground. Everyone must have been either dead asleep, or else the station was absolutely deserted. Greatly disappointed, I decided I would try the same stunt some other day on another aerodrome, which I would have to select.
In the meantime, for something to do, I flew along low over the country, in the hope of coming on some camp or group of troops so as to scatter them. I felt that the danger was nil, as most of the crews of the guns which ordinarily would fire at me, would still be asleep, and I might as well give any Huns I could find, a good fight. I was in rather a bad temper at having my carefully laid plan fall through so quickly, and nothing would have pleased me better than to have run across a group of fat Huns drilling in a field—or something of that sort. However, nothing appeared, and I was just thinking of turning and going home, or of climbing up to see if there were some Huns in the upper sky, when ahead, and slightly to one side of me, I saw the sheds of another aerodrome. I at once decided that here was my chance, although it was not a very favourable one, as the aerodrome was pretty far back from the lines. To make good my escape from this place would not be as easy as I had hoped. Furthermore, I was not even certain where I was, and that was my greatest worry, as I was a bit afraid that if
I had any bad fights I might have trouble in finding my way back. Scurrying along close to the ground, zigzagging here and there, one’s sense of direction becomes slightly vague.
Another half minute and I was over the aerodrome, about three hundred feet up. On the ground were seven German machines, and in my first glance, I saw that some of them actually had their engines running. Mechanics were standing about in groups. Then I saw a thing which surprised me very much—six of the machines were single-seaters, and one a two-seater. I was not very anxious for the two-seater to come up to attack me, as in taking off, he would have a certain amount of protection from behind, with his observer, while the single-seater could have none. However, in this, luck also favoured me, as the two-seater did not move at all.
I pointed my nose towards the ground, and opened fire with my gun, scattering the bullets all around the machines, and coming down to fifty feet in doing so. I do not know how many men I hit, or what damage was done, except that one man, at least, fell, and several others ran to pick him up. Then, clearing off to one side, I watched the fun. I had forgotten by this time, that they would, of course, have machine guns on the aerodrome, and as I was laughing to myself, as they tore around in every direction on the ground, like people going mad, or rabbits scurrying about, I heard the old familiar rattle of the quick firers on me. I did not dare go too far away, however, as then I would not be able to catch the machines as they left the ground, so turning quickly and twisting about, I did my best to evade the fire from the ground. Looking at my planes, I saw that the guns were doing pretty good shooting. There were several holes in them already and this made me turn and twist all the more. Then one machine suddenly began to “taxi” off down the aerodrome. It increased its speed quickly, and I immediately tore down after it. I managed to get close on its tail, when it was just above the ground, and opened fire from dead behind it. There was no chance of missing, and I was as cool as could be. Just fifteen rounds, and it side-slipped to one side, then crashed on the aerodrome underneath. I was now keyed up to the fight, and turning quickly, saw another machine just off the ground. Taking careful aim at it, I fired from longer range than before, as I did not want to waste the time of going up close. For one awful moment I saw my bullets missing, and aimed still more carefully, all the time striving to get nearer. The Hun saw I was catching him up, and pushed his nose down; then, gazing over his shoulder at the moment I was firing at him, he crashed into some trees near the aerodrome. I think I hit him just before he came to the trees, as my tracers were then going in an accurate line.
I again turned towards the aerodrome. This time my heart sank, because two machines were taking off at the same time, and in slightly different directions. It was the one thing I had dreaded. There was not much wind, and it was possible for them to do this. I had made up my mind, before, that if they attempted to do this I would immediately make good my escape, but I had counted on being higher. However, true to my intention, I began to climb. One of the enemy machines luckily climbed away at some distance, while the other made up straight after me. At one thousand feet, and only a few hundred yards from the aerodrome, I saw that he was catching me, so turned on him and opened fire. We made about two circuits around each other, neither getting a very good shot, but in the end I managed to get in a short burst of fire, and this machine went crashing to the ground, where it lay in a field, a few hundred yards from the aerodrome.
The fourth machine then came up, and I opened fire on him. I was now greatly worried as to how I was to get away, as I was using up all my ammunition, and there seemed to be no end to the number of machines coming up. I was afraid that other machines from other aerodromes would also come in answer to telephone calls, and wanted to get away as quickly as I could. But there was no chance of running from this man—he had me cold—so I turned at him savagely, and, in the course of a short fight, emptied the whole of my last drum at him. Luckily, at the moment I finished my ammunition, he also seemed to have had enough of it, as he turned and flew away. I seized my opportunity, climbed again, and started for home.
To my dismay I discovered four enemy scouts above me. I was terrified that they would see me, so flew directly underneath them, for some time—almost a mile, I should think—going directly south. Then, deciding that I must do something, I took the bit in my teeth, and slipped away. They did not attempt to attack me at all, so I am not sure whether they even saw me or not.
I now headed in the approximate direction of our lines, and flew in rather a dazed state toward them. I had not had any breakfast, and was feeling very queer at my stomach. The excitement, and the reaction afterwards, had been a bit too much, as well as the cold morning air. It seemed, once or twice, that my head was going around and around, and that something must happen. For the only time in my life, it entered my thoughts that I might lose my senses in a moment, and go insane. It was a horrible feeling, and I also had the terrible sensation that I would suffer from nausea any minute. I was not at all sure where I was, and furthermore did not care. The thrills and exultation I had at first felt, had all died away, and nothing seemed to matter but this awful feeling of dizziness and the desire to get home and on the ground.
By the time I reached the aerodrome, however, I felt much better, and flew over our still sleeping huts, firing off my signal lights frantically, to show them I had certainly had some success. I landed, and my sergeant immediately rushed out and asked me how many I had bagged. When I told him three, he was greatly pleased, and yelled it back to the mechanics who were waiting by the shed. Then, as I crawled out of my machine, I heard the remarks of the mechanics around me. They were looking it over. Everywhere it was shot about, bullet holes being in almost every part of it, although none, luckily, within two feet of where I sat. Parts of the machine were so badly damaged as to take a lot of repairing; but I used the same patched planes in the machine for some time afterward, and always felt great affection for it, for pulling me through such a successful enterprise. I personally congratulated the man who had charge of my gun, suddenly realising that if it had jammed at a critical moment, what a tight corner I would have been in.
Within three or four hours, I had received many congratulations upon this stunt, and what I had planned as merely a way of shooting down some more of the Huns, I found the authorities considered a very successful expedition. It pleased me very much—and, of course, I have always kept the telegrams of congratulations which I received that day. At first I had been disappointed in the net result, for when I started out I had rather hoped they would all take off as the first machine did, and that I would be able to bag, at the very least, four. But, on looking back at it, I think I was over-optimistic, and was very lucky to have brought down as many as I did.
That afternoon I was still suffering from the excitement of the morning, and although tired out, could not sleep, so with one other man I climbed in my machine and flew about fifty miles south, to pay a visit to another of our aerodromes there. We left to return about five o’clock and had more excitement, as a rain-storm was coming up, and for the last ten minutes had to plow through a drizzle. It was pretty dreary work, and I was very glad to see the aerodrome again. An hour later, I was sound asleep in my bed, and did not awaken until the next morning.
Next morning we had a most discouraging time. For several days there had not been many German machines on the lines, and we had been very successful in stopping them from doing their artillery work. But on this morning, when, with our usual confidence of finding only one or two, we slipped across the lines after them, we suddenly made out everywhere, groups of four or five; and, counting them up, I found there were no less than twenty-three German machines within three miles of the front. There were only three of us, so it was rather puzzling what to do. In some way, we had to stop the machines from doing artillery work, and it was not a very pleasant prospect for three to pile into the middle of over twenty, with the likelihood of still more coming from other directions. However,
we stayed just on the German side of the line, and they did not seem very anxious to attack us. So, whenever two or three would get separated from the others, we would pretend to go near them, and they would shy away towards the rest of their machines. It was terribly annoying to have to sit there and see so many fat Huns go unmolested and after we landed we agreed that if it ever happened again, one of us would go back, get more machines to help, and then we would engage the lot in a real battle royal. So many times we could not find any of them, when we were just dying for a fight; now they were in such huge numbers it would be folly to mix it up with them.
We managed to have three short goes at different artillery machines in the course of half an hour, next day, but they were not “having any,” however, and turned away and fled towards home.
Another time, while flying on the lines, my engine suddenly stopped dead. Nothing I could do had any effect on it, and I glided back toward home. At first I was a bit afraid I would not even clear the shell area, and it meant crashing into some deep hole, but there was a slight wind behind me, and with the help of this I glided on and on, into clear country, where there was an aerodrome.
Winged Warfare Page 11