Every pilot must count the enemy aeroplanes as soon as sighted. Before an attack the wing leader must regulate his speed so that any pilots who have straggled can re-form.
Since the purpose is to destroy enemy formations, the wing commander should not attack individual aircraft, nor should he concern himself with enemy machines that break formation, but leave them to the squadrons astern. The pilot nearest to an enemy is the one who must engage it. Any pilot who loses altitude during a fight must climb back as soon as possible.
Manfred defines what he expects of flight and squadron commanders. First, he puts comradeship, strict discipline and the necessity for every pilot to have complete trust in his leader.
Pilots must develop diversity by not always flying in the same position. Leaders must adjust their speed to ensure that the slowest aircraft can hold station.
Dealing with attacks, he differentiates between the tactics to use against single aircraft and formations. Describing his method when leading a squadron against artillery spotters, he says that he keeps several possible targets in view, noting their altitudes and changes of course and whether or not they have fighter cover. He then withdraws to gain height and returns towards the enemy front with the target he has selected below him. Allowing for wind direction, he leads the formation in a dive with the sun behind them onto the enemy machine. He says that to leave any aircraft at a higher altitude as cover is cowardice. Whoever is first in position to shoot at the target has the right to fire first and two pilots must never fire simultaneously. If the enemy pilot sees his attackers, he will usually dive away or stay, at a low altitude, turning. Attacking a turning target is seldom successful, so it is best to regain height and repeat the attack on the same or another machine at a greater height.
He emphasises that whatever the size of a formation, it is essential that its leader never loses sight of the whole battle; a breadth of vision and attention that can he attained only by fighting in several wing combats, and which is the most important attribute.
About training novices, he says that ‘the main thing’ for a fighter pilot is his machine-gun. He must be able to recognise the cause of a jam. It is his own responsibility, not the armourer’s, to ensure the perfect performance of his gun. When a gun jams, Manfred blames the pilot and says that a machine-gun in good working order is more important than a smoothly running engine. When loading ammunition belts a pilot must make sure that every bullet is measured precisely.
He expresses the low value he places on flying ability and justifies this by pointing out that he scored his first twenty victories while still finding great difficulty in aircraft handling. He rates a pilot who can turn only in one direction but attacks boldly, higher than one who can throw his machine about the sky impeccably but attacks with caution. The need, he insists, is for daredevils, not aerobatic artists.
Formation practice at high altitude, including tight turns at full throttle, must be done; so must long-distance navigation exercises so that pilots learn to know the terrain well enough not to need a map.
Prescribing tactics to use against single- and two-seater aeroplanes, he says that fighting a single-seater is much the easier. The first essential is to apply Boelcke’s advice about shooting only when within fifty metres of the target. The others are to take the pilot by surprise, make tighter turns than he and keep above him. When himself attacked from above, he makes all dives and turns at full throttle and tries to climb while turning, to gain height over his attacker.
Two-seaters must be attacked from astern at high speed and the observer must be killed or incapacitated by wounds. Shots are most effective when the target is flying straight or in a turn, but tracer can be fired from the beam or when it is banking, to scare its pilot. It is most dangerous to attack a two-seater from ahead, as you are then within the field of fire of both front and rear guns; and when turning astern to attack again, you are fully exposed to the observer’s fire. If a two-seater attacks you head-on, slip under it and start a tight turn as it passes overhead.
His final admonition is the one he ignored, fatally and for the first time, in his last fight. ‘You should never stay with an opponent whom, through your bad shooting or his skilful turning, you have been unable to shoot down, the combat lasts for a long time and you are alone, outnumbered by adversaries.’
CHAPTER 17 - THE GREAT ALLIED FIGHTER LEADERS IN 1914-1918
The first commander of a fighter squadron to be rated among the greatest in the history of the RAF was Lanoe Hawker. The outstanding precursor in any activity has an advantage over his successors, because he is the first to set a standard and become conspicuous. His achievements might not in themselves be superlative, but by comparison with those of his contemporaries they are the best.
A great fighter leader has to be judged on several qualities and attainments. It is difficult enough to attempt comparisons with famous sportsmen and women of different generations, where only one attribute is in question. Would the World Heavyweight Boxing Champion of 1910 have beaten the champion of 1990? Would the winners of the men’s and women’s Singles at Wimbledon in 1939 have beaten those of 1969? Would the rowing VIII that won the Grand Challenge Cup at Henley in 1900 have beaten the 1995 winners? It is impossible to say, even by feeding all the relevant data into a computer. A fighter leader has to be assessed not only on the number of his victories but also the quality of the aircraft he and his adversaries fly, the ground support available, the innovations he introduces to fighter operations, the influence he exerts over those he commands and his effect on the development of air fighting.
The obvious essentials that the best fighter leaders have are courage, intelligence, a strong personality and an understanding of human nature. They must be able to get the best possible performance out of their pilots as well as themselves excelling. The common factor shared by all great military leaders in any Service is the over-worked noun ‘charisma’ in its modern sense: the outstanding quality in a person that gives him or her influence and authority over others.
Hawker shot down only nine enemy aircraft, but he did so in the most difficult circumstances: at first flying primitive aeroplanes with makeshift armament and later a purpose-designed fighter that was still poorly armed and soon out-performed by enemy fighters.
In addition to being brave and clever he had a cheerful nature that made light of difficulties, a fine example to others, and was popular as well as respected and admired. He was known as ‘jolly old Hawker’, with the emphasis on the first adjective. His first squadron, No. 6, with which he went to France in October 1914, was equipped with two Henri Farmans, three BE8s, and five BE2s. Reconnaissance and artillery spotting were its functions. He flew one of the Farmans, which were the oldest of these three types, for a month until it was destroyed in a gale. During that time he put in 46½ flying hours, more than anyone else. He was next given an old BE2, which another gale wrecked six weeks later. This was replaced by a new machine of the same type. He always carried three 20 lb bombs to drop on any suitable target and whenever he saw an enemy aircraft he attacked it with revolver or rifle fire.
From the first he showed a quality that he shared with Manfred: admiration of, and sympathy for, the infantry, for whom he would fly in any weather and take any risk.
In April 1915 he was sent to bomb a zeppelin shed over which an observation balloon was kept, surrounded by anti-aircraft guns. He dropped two bombs from 4,000 ft, then, after dropping hand grenades at the observer in the basket beneath the balloon, he spiralled down around the mooring cable, dropped his last bomb from 200 ft and hit the target. Several bullets perforated the BE2. For this he was awarded the Distinguished Service Order.
In June 1915 he began flying a Bristol Scout, to which he had a mounting fitted for a Lewis gun beside the cockpit. In July 1915 he became the first RFC or RNAS pilot to shoot down an aircraft in flames: not using incendiary bullets, which the RFC spurned; the petrol vapour ignited spontaneously. In the same fight he forced another down to
a crash-landing. In twelve sorties he engaged a total of fifteen enemy aircraft, brought five down and put nine to flight. In August he was awarded the Victoria Cross.
The spirit with which he later imbued No. 24 Squadron when he became its first commander, and the fight in which Manfred von Richthofen killed him, have already been described. Given an aeroplane that performed as well as Manfred’s, he would most probably have been the victor for he was a far superior pilot and a great deal more intelligent and subtle. His influence over fighter operations was profound: he displayed unrelenting aggression and was unrivalled as an innovator, thanks to his training as an engineer. Among these were the double ammunition drum and a device for holding the gun on a DH2 steady when fired instead of wobbling. It was he who had the first fur-lined thigh boots made, which became standard issue. He never became a hater of the Germans. When they earned worldwide condemnation for executing Nurse Cavell for helping British prisoners of war in Belgium to escape, he accepted that they were behaving according to their notion of what was right and it was the duty of every Briton to do his utmost to ensure that their own country never fell under such an enemy’s cruel domination.
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Ball stands high among those who had an enduring influence over his own and future generations of fighter pilots because of his reckless bravery and the tactic he introduced of attacking from close astern of, and beneath, his chosen victim. His youthful attitude to a deadly serious adult occupation captured everyone’s imagination. His comrades knew him as meticulous about every detail that would improve the performance of his aircraft and his gun. He was probably the first RFC pilot always to load his ammunition drums and belts himself. He was not gregarious. If he could not have a bedroom to himself he preferred sleeping in a tent to sharing one in the standard wooden, or iron Nissen huts, and entertained himself by playing the violin in his quarters rather than being sociable in the mess.
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Mannock, as the highest-scoring British pilot, of course had a strong influence over the doctrine of fighter operations. His great concern for those whom he led, the trouble he took to teach them how best to fight and to protect themselves were an object lesson for future squadron commanders to emulate. If he had had a good education at school and gone to a university he would probably have risen to Air rank — had he survived the war and stayed in the Service. The most emotional of all fighter pilots, he was an intellectual with an enquiring mind, singleness of purpose and a great capacity for hatred of anyone whom he perceived as being in any way an enemy.
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McCudden was the great exemplar of the professional devoted to the military life, took naturally to flying, accepted authority and discipline and knew how to exercise both. His natural leadership was enhanced by the years he spent learning from the leadership of others as he advanced from the lowest rank to that of major. Like Hawker and Mannock he took pains to teach inexperienced pilots how to fight and stay alive. His fatal accident that resulted from a disregard for rules was an inexplicable aberration. He too, had he survived the war, could have risen to the rank of air marshal.
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The second-highest scoring RFC fighter pilot, with only one less victory than Mannock, W.A. ‘Billy’ Bishop, was not, despite his VC, DSO, DFC, a great leader; as Mannock discovered when he took over the demoralised pilots of 85 Squadron from him. In 1911 he had entered the Canadian Royal Military Academy, from which his escapades courted expulsion. His independent attitude remained undiminished when he had earned his observer’s wing and arrived at the Western Front in January 1916, after fifteen months in the cavalry. Following a crash in which he injured a knee, he passed the pilots’ course and spent some months in a home defence squadron, joining 60 Squadron in France on 7 March 1916 to fly the Nieuport 17. He scored his first victory, over an Albatros, on 18 May and only two days later led a section. By the end of April he had shot down twelve German aeroplanes and been promoted to captain.
He hated Germans for having started the war, despised them and thoroughly enjoyed killing them. On the excuse that he did not like to have others’ lives in his hands, he used to go off alone as often as possible. When he saw British infantry being cut down by machine-guns it aroused his fury. On one occasion he dived vertically, shooting at a group of the enemy who were manning two Spandaus in the corner of a trench. One of these guns returned his fire. From a height of thirty feet he ‘could make out every detail of the Huns’ frightened faces. With hate in my heart I fired every bullet I could at them’. Immediately after, he saw the British troops advancing again.
‘Soon after this, new Hun-hatred had become part of my soul’, he wrote, he attacked a two-seater that turned tail and landed. To see the German alight under perfect control ‘filled me with a towering rage. I vowed an eternal vendetta against all the Hun two-seaters in the world’. He dived to within a few feet of the ground and fired at the machine. ‘I had the satisfaction of knowing that the pilot and observer must have been hit or nearly scared to death’. He waited a while but there was no sign of life in the riddled aeroplane.
In May he won the MC, in June the DSO and in August the VC.
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The third highest scoring pilot has not been written about as generously as he deserved. He was another Canadian, Raymond Collishaw, and his comparative lack of recognition is owed to the fact that he did not serve in the RFC, but in the Royal Naval Air Service, from 1915 until the RAF was formed. His rank of lieutenant-commander became its equivalent, major; when the newly created RAF ranks were announced after the war this changed to squadron leader. Not only did he shoot down sixty-eight German aeroplanes, but also his was an outstandingly forceful personality, even among others who were conspicuous for this quality. To those who served under him in both world wars he was the epitome of what people mean when they describe someone as ‘a character’.
There were so many delays in sending the first draft of RNAS trainee pilots from Canada to Britain that ‘Collie’ Collishaw did not arrive at the Western Front until 1 August 1916. Had he gone into action sooner he might well have surpassed not only Mannock’s and McCudden’s scores but Fonck’s also, for he survived to become the first commander of Desert Air Force in 1940 and retired as an air vice-marshal. Of his first operational sortie, he said ‘Anyone who claims not to have been nervous on such an occasion has to be an insensitive idiot or have a bad memory’.
In 1917, fighting an Albatros D at 16,000 ft, he was turning his Sopwith Triplane inside his opponent and watching another D that was trying to get on his tail, when a third Albatros loomed dead ahead. He dived steeply and barely scraped beneath it. The violence of the manoeuvre broke his safety strap and he found himself hanging outside the cockpit, holding the two centre struts. Suddenly the Tripe’s nose reared up, then it stalled into a spin. A strong man, he managed to hold on. The aeroplane pulled up sharply again and he was able to hook a foot round the joystick, put the machine into level flight and tumble back into his seat. By then he was down to 6,000 ft.
It was probably Collishaw, then a flight commander in No. 10 RNAS Squadron, who nearly killed Manfred von Richthofen by wounding him in the head. His flight was escorting twelve FE2s and RE8s when Jasta 11 attacked. Manfred himself naturally went for a Fee — the Sopwiths would have been too lethal to tackle. Collishaw fired at him, but it is impossible to be certain that it was he who hit him.
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Among the French, the first to show the characteristics of a natural fighter leader was Capitaine Félix Happe, who commanded a bomber squadron, MF 29, in GB 4, one of the first four bomber groups. He was a colourful character, over six feet tall, with a bushy black beard parted in the centre and beetling eyebrows — and a great sense of humour. It was he who initiated the V formation that became standard in both the Allied and enemy air forces. On bomber raids he flew his squadron at a greater altitude than the others, to give them high cover before bombing, even when they were escorted by Nieuports. On the way out and back his pilots did not me
rely keep a look out, they actively searched for the enemy. After his squadron bombed a poison gas plant and the Aviatik works on the same day, 26 August 1915, the Germans put a price of 25,000 marks on his head. He sent them a message to say that, to avoid wasting time on anyone else, they should note that his aeroplane was recognisable by its red wheels.
In 1916, promoted to Commandant, the equivalent of major, he took command of BG 4. At the suggestion of the French, to which the British Admiralty agreed, an Allied bombing squadron was formed to attack German munitions factories. As well as bombers, the RNAS provided fighters to escort them, among which was Collishaw’s flight.
The first French fighter leaders to distinguish themselves all held the rank of capitaine and commanded Morane Saulnier squadrons. The earliest was Félix Brocard of MS 3, followed by Tricornot de Rose of MS 12 and de Vergette of MS 23. It was now that, having attained greater distinction than any other fighter escadrille, MS 3 adopted the stork as its symbol and became known as Les Cigognes. Presently it was re-equipped with the Nieuport 11, so became N 3. By the end of 1916 it had grown into a Groupe which also comprised N 26, N 23, N 73, N 103 and N 167, still under Brocard, now promoted to Commandant.
Fonck was an inspiration to his comrades rather than one who displayed the eminent leadership qualities of the outstanding British and Empire fighter leaders. Brilliant individuals abounded and their successes were a tribute to bravery and ability, but even he, who topped the Allied list of victories, was renowned for his skill and the advice he gave, not for flying at the head of a formation or originating tactics.
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The same is true of the Italians, except that their most successful pilots did not achieve fame outside their own country and were known only to those RFC pilots whose squadrons fought on the Italian Front.
Von Richthofen: The Legend Evaluated Page 15