As I walked back to my quarters I began to write the letter to Lady Mary in my head. I felt sorry for Fox. I understood him. After all I had got married on the spur of the moment. The difference was I had not gone against the wishes of anyone’s parents. I hated snobbery but I was not sure if I had the power to change anything. The world was changing but not that fast.
Chapter 26
That evening in the mess, Jack sat next to Fox and he nodded and smiled when I entered. All was well. I would wait until I had my reply from Lady Mary until I spoke with Freddie. The real test would be when we were in the air again. If Fox was more reassured then his flying should show his old qualities. I knew that Freddie had confided in Johnny Holt and I asked him to give Fox the once over in the air. Johnny nodded and said, “I’ll keep an eye on him sir… my good one!” Nothing ever got Holt down.
We were ordered to go deeper into German territory and spy upon the build up. The French had captured some German prisoners who reported an offensive in the offing. Headquarters had not known where that would be likely to be but our information made the southern Somme the favourite choice. If we could find more evidence from the German rear then we could prepare for yet another offensive. As we headed east I cursed the Russians for making peace. The war might have been over but for the cursed Revolution.
We headed for the area east of la Fere. It was within ten miles of the new front line and would provide evidence of enemy preparations. We flew in a stacked formation and I told Johnny Holt to watch the skies for enemy fighters. As soon as we crossed their front line I knew that they would be sending a message to the German Jastas. To aid confusion we flew south east as we crossed the front line and then I headed north east. We would still be spotted by any Germans but they would waste fuel searching in the wrong area.
There was a steady trickle of grey uniforms moving along the country lanes. They were heading west. As we flew over, they dived for cover, expecting the chatter of machine guns. It was their lucky day; we sought bigger fish. We were ten miles from the front when we saw the tents which filled the empty fields. Here was the army which would launch the offensive. We banked to move south where I saw tanks and vehicles too. The only thing missing was cavalry. That was strange because if they made a breakthrough then cavalry were the best force to exploit a gap.
As we headed west I realised that a crucial breakthrough could take the Germans to Paris. Already being shelled an attack by Ludendorff might force the French to make peace and then Britain and Belgium would be isolated.
I glanced in my mirror and saw Jack and Johnny waggling their wings. It meant only one thing, German fighters. I could not see them but I knew that, in all likelihood they would be coming from the south east and that they would be higher than us. Our field was to the north west and I gambled. Instead of rising to meet them I began to bank and to dive towards the ground. We would out run them. We were on the limit of our fuel anyway and it was not worth risking a fight with the information we had discovered in our heads. As we reached fifty feet I waggled my wings and waved for the pilots behind me to fly on. They waggled their wings to show they understood and, as I slowed down they overtook me until there was just Jack, Johnny and myself as the three rear Camels.
I could see the Fokkers in my rear mirror. There were ten triplanes and four of the new Fokkers. I signalled the other two to take station either side of me. We were close enough for me to shout but our signals worked well and they obeyed. If I could get back without fighting I would but the moment I heard their Spandau I intended to loop and attack them head on. The younger pilots were already half a mile ahead of me. I was certain I could hold the enemy up long enough for them to reach the field.
Suddenly ground fire erupted. The flight of the other Camels had alerted the soldiers and they were firing indiscriminately. I remembered what had happened to the Red Baron. The only way to stop them firing was to get amongst the Fokkers. I signalled for a loop and I pulled back on the stick. It was not a moment too soon for the Fokker D VII began to fire as I did so. The other two joined me and the bullets sailed harmlessly by. Our sudden move and the fact that they, too, were hedgehopping meant we took them by surprise. As I turned the top of the loop I saw them below me and I opened fire at the Fokker triplane below me. He was trying to loop too and my bullets struck his top wing and his cockpit. I finished my loop and found that I was behind a D.VII. He twisted and turned to avoid my bullets but the Camel could out twist anything but a triplane.
The D.VII was a tougher aeroplane than the triplane and it took a great deal of punishment. I felt bullets striking my bus from the Germans behind. Ahead I could see the airfield and I increased my speed to close with the D.VII and make it harder for my pursuer to shoot me and not hit his comrade. I did not have the luxury of being able to slow down for my landing. The German had to pull up suddenly when the machine guns and artillery which ringed the field began to fire at him. The field was thankfully empty and I landed diagonally to give myself the maximum grass upon which to land.
Johnny and Jack had not attempted my foolhardy landing but they had split left and right to allow the gunners to pepper the air and the Germans with their fire. They peeled away with at least three smoking aeroplanes and headed east. Johnny and Jack were able to land more sedately than I did. My landing had taken me so far away that they were out of their Camels before I had taxied over to the rest of the aeroplanes.
“Interesting landing, sir!”
“I know Johnny. I hoped that the gunners could get a couple of them.”
He nodded, “It looks like there is a push sir and it is coming in this direction.”
“I know. I shall tell the Captain. Well done you two. I hope you suffered no damage.”
“No sir. Just a couple of holes in the wings. Nothing that can’t be repaired.”
Our news was confirmed by other spotters and we were ready on the twenty seventh of May when the Germans attacked between Soissons and Rheims. The French bore the brunt to this attack along with six resting divisions. The whole front collapsed almost overnight and the Germans made the Marne River. Paris was now a possibility.
We spent every day from the twenty seventh until the advance stopped on the eleventh of June in the air. We were fighting for our lives. In all that time we found ourselves fighting not German aeroplanes but German ground troops as we were used as aerial artillery. After the initial loss of territory the French counterattacked with their own tanks. We went in with them. We had learned how to deal with the German counterattacks. We flew low over the tanks and machine gunned the storm troopers who tried to surround each tank and kill its crew. The storm troopers were brave and they were tough but .303 bullets from a pair of Vickers can reduce a man to a bloody wreck in seconds. Gradually we wore them down and the attacks stopped. By the time we had beaten back the hordes we were down to four Camels which were able to fly. The rest needed the care and attention of more mechanics than we had at our disposal. Our sister squadron, flying the SE 5 had suffered even more. Their larger size had meant that four had been shot down and they only had two serviceable aeroplanes left.
We all thanked God when, on June twelfth, we were stood down.
Once more the Offensive had disrupted the flow of letters from home and I received a large number. They were all out of order. Beattie’s told me that she was now staying with Mary and that her days as a nurse were, temporarily over. I had arranged to have some of my pay sent to Mary’s for I did not want my wife living on charity. Mum, of course, had said that she would be delighted to have Beattie staying with her and I found, in my letters, the letter from Beattie telling me that she would be travelling to Burscough in June. I felt a deep sense of relief. I was not unhappy with Beattie staying with Mary but family was family. My two sisters and my unborn child’s cousin lived close by. It was right that a Harsker should be born at Burscough. The letters from my sisters showed their unbounded joy. I left Lady Mary’s letter until last for I was dreading reading it.
Lie
utenant Fox had been a changed man since my talk with him. When Freddie returned to duty he was as delighted as anyone that his fine young pilot was back in the cockpit both physically and mentally. Like me he worried about the future. I was a coward. I did not want to read the letter alone and I sought out Freddie. We went to an empty mess and had a beer while I read it. The letter did not make pleasant reading.
“It seems that Jeremiah Ramsden is as dour as his name sounds. He was polite to Lady Mary but refused to countenance reconciliation with Lieutenant Fox. As far as he was concerned they would not be together even when she was twenty one.” I read the next paragraph and threw it down. “Damn!”
“What is it?”
I picked it up again. “Apparently Lady Mary managed a few words with this Caroline. She told Lady Mary, in confidence that she was convinced that she was with child. She has not told her parents.”
“Surely that will make a difference.”
“Lady Mary thinks not!” I finished off my beer. “That leaves us a problem. Do we tell young Fox that his wife is pregnant?”
“He might run.”
“He might. The thing is the baby won’t be born until almost Christmas. Much can happen in the meantime.” I looked at Freddie. “He is in your flight. I leave the decision to you.” It was the most cowardly thing I ever did and one of the few decisions which I came to regret. Freddie nodded.
The next day began what was to become an attempt to retake the land recently captured by the Germans. The Americans had entered the war in greater numbers and were supporting the French. General Foch counterattacked the Germans at Soissons. I suppose we should have felt honoured that we were requested as support for the French but it did not feel that way. To be fair to the generals at Amiens we were close to the French sector and we had supported them before. I had been honoured for my work with a medal but it would also bring us into contact with Jasta I. Although the Red Baron was dead his legacy remained and we would be going up against the best pilots the Germans had. They were replacing the Fokker Triplane with new buses and although they did not have them in large numbers they were highly effective as fighters. General Trenchard kept trying to get Archie to change to the SE 5. He said he would keep the Camels. We liked them.
Our role was simple. We had to keep the German aeroplanes away from the French and Americans. It meant two sorties a day and tiredness soon became a factor.
We were back to full strength and our wounded pilots returned. The replacements had arrived and, once again, I had the most experienced flight. We took off at the beginning of July and headed south and east. We now knew that we could not get above the German fighters and we had to resort to other tactics. Each flight had a different sector but we were close enough to see the others. I was in the centre with Freddie to my starboard and Ted to port. I kept the line astern stacked above me. My pilots liked it and it had been lucky for us.
I saw some Rumpler bombers escorted by a mixture of the new Fokkers and the older triplanes. They were heading west for the Marne. Waggling my wings I led my flight towards them. The newer fighters came directly for us while the Fokkers gave close protection to the vulnerable two seaters. There were eight of the Fokker D. VII. I hoped that Freddie would see the bombers and deal with them. We would have our hands full.
The only slight advantage we had was that the Germans were a bigger target but they could fly slightly faster than we could and were damned hard to knock out of the sky. All the fighters we met these days had fantastic paint schemes and it was hard to tell who you were fighting. Some of the ones we fought that day had a strange design we later discovered was called a Swastika. The design actually helped us for you had another target apart from the German cross.
The extra height and speed of the German fighters brought them down to us remarkably quickly. They seemed to fill the air. The ones on the extreme side of the flight fired their guns at me at the same time that the leader did. I felt the bullets as they hit my wings and my fuselage. I was lucky for I did not detect any damage or deterioration in performance. I kept my nerve and did not fire until we were just forty yards apart. My bullets hit his engine and then Wally’s hit the pilot. His garishly painted Fokker went into a dive beneath me. In my mirror I saw Wally’s Camel struck by many bullets. He was not as lucky as I was and his engine started to smoke. He was now an old hand and he banked to starboard. He would head home.
Without my wingman I had little choice. I flew my Camel directly at the Fokker to my right. Once again I risked a collision and, once again, the German pilot took evasive action. As he presented his side to me I fired from close range and saw his struts and wires severed. His top wing began to flex alarmingly and I saw the pilot trying to control his damaged bird. He pulled the aeroplane to port and I fired at his Swastika. I was so close that my twin Vickers tore a hole in the side. I had to jerk my nose up as I nearly collided with a third Fokker. I saw the one that I had damaged spiral slowly to earth. He might land but it would not be at his own airfield. I turned to starboard to attempt to fire at the Fokker I had just missed. He must have flown into Jack Fall’s gun sights for his propeller disappeared as the .303 tore into it. Another Fokker fell from the sky and then it was empty.
I was feeling pleased with myself when I saw Lieutenant Fielding’s Camel burning on the ground. I had lost one of my young lads. I had hoped to have them all last until the end of the war but it was not meant to be. Poor Gordy’s flight had fared even worse; Lieutenant Wilson and Lieutenant Smart had both died. They were new pilots who had lasted a mere week in France. The Western Front was a cruel teacher.
The messages from the French were appreciative. We had stopped the bombers getting through. All of them had been destroyed. This would be the last throw of the dice for the Germans and they were throwing all that they had at the Americans and the French.
We went up again the next day and this time we were joined by SE 5s and Spad VIII flown by Americans. This was the largest force we had flown with. We encompassed a large part of the battlefield. Our task was to knock out any German aeroplanes and then ground attack. That July morning was an air battle! A whole Jasta came to sweep us from the air. There were well over fifty German aeroplanes of varying types. The three allied squadrons each adopted different formations while the Germans relied on their line abreast. That difference was to prove crucial.
Once a battle in the air begins it becomes small. A pilot sees the enemy before him and his comrades in his mirror. I had no idea how the Americans and the SE 5s fought that day. I did not know what had happened to my squadron until we landed. We just flew, fought and, in some cases died. When we ran out of fuel we returned home. It was a very personal battle.
We were on the extreme right of the line while the Americans were on the right. We had begun to climb as soon as we saw the Germans but the Americans were new to this deadly battle in the air and were slower to rise. Our climb and the Germans coincided so that we reached ten thousand feet at the same time. Once again Freddie and I were the centre of our line and we both fired at the same time. We were a hundred yards from the enemy. It was a longer range than we normally used but there were so many German aeroplanes that I thought we might get lucky and hit some in the rear. Wally fired a moment after I did. We both hit the struts and the wings of the Fokker. I threw my Camel on to its side and the manoeuvre threw off the aim of the German pilot. His bullets hit the space where my wings had been a moment earlier. I banked slightly and fired from a range of just forty feet as he sped by. My bullets punched a hole in his fuselage. I straightened up. The next German’s bullets zoomed over my head and, in my mirror, I saw them strike the undercarriage of Wally’s bus. I fired a long burst as we closed with each other. The tracer showed me that I was hitting him and he flew into my bullets. Smoke came from his engine as Wally added to my fire.
Suddenly there was empty sky before me. I banked to my right and watched as my four pilots attempted to follow me. Jack’s Camel was riddled by the fire of thre
e Germans but I saw no smoke and we were through. We were behind the Germans who were trying to get to the larger formation of SE 5s. I could not see Freddie but I guessed that he was engaged with his own personal battle.
There were five Fokker triplanes. They were holding their line well. Our speed had taken them by surprise and they must have thought that the air to their starboard side was occupied by the D.VII we had just attacked. Whatever the reason we had a clear shot. I flew obliquely across them so that all five of us could fire at each one in turn. That one attack in July 1918 resulted in more kills for my flight than any other day of the war.
I opened fired and just held down the triggers. The Fokkers tried to dive away from the barrage of bullets but we could out dive them. As I came behind the last Fokker on the extreme left of the five I followed him down. He twisted and turned but to no avail. I stopped firing only when my ammunition ran out. I had begun to think that the pilot had a charmed life when I saw the ground approaching rapidly. I pulled the nose up. The concussion from the crashing Fokker lifted me into the air and I headed west.
Below me I saw the storm troopers running into the brick wall that was the American defenders of the wood close to Soissons. The Americans had not tasted defeat and had not retreated almost to the sea as we had. They had stood firm. I waggled my wings as I passed over them.
Having fired my bullets so quickly I was the first one back and I filled my pipe as I anxiously awaited the return of my boys. All four appeared but Jack’s had smoke coming from his engine and I remembered that Wally had had his undercarriage hit.
“Senior Flight Sergeant Lowery, Mr Grey has had damage to his undercarriage. He may need some help!”
“Sir! Right you lot, get ready. We might have to get the young officer out in a hurry!”
I saw them watching for Wally’s bus as the four of them touched down. As we had feared the damage meant that the wheels collapsed as it hit the ground. The nose dipped alarmingly and I feared that the Camel would cartwheel but, instead the tail dug into the ground and it slewed and spun across the field. It made a giant fairy circle in the grass. The mechanics were close enough to race and pull the pilot from the wreckage before it exploded. Fortunately it did not and I could afford a smile. That day had been a good one. We had lost no pilots!
1918 We will remember them Page 23