Part 5

We next had some dinner, but mine was spoilt through a message from the Commander, which contained instructions for me to drop bombs on an airship shed at Gontrode, near Ghent. The moon rose soon after midnight and at 1.30 a.m. I started off. Things in general have a most depressing aspect at that hour of the morning. I went out to sea _via_ Zeebrugge, and then cut inland. When I arrived at the place, there was a thick ground mist and dawn was just breaking. I could not see the sheds at all, but two searchlights were going hard. I half circled round, when lo! and behold! I sighted the Zeppelin coming home over Zeebrugge. I turned off due east to avoid being seen, intending to wait until he came down and then to catch him sitting. But my luck was out. One of the searchlights picked me up, and anti-aircraft guns immediately opened fire on me.

Then a curious thing happened. The Zeppelin sighted me (I think the searchlights were signalling) and immediately came for me. This was the tables turned on me with a vengeance, and the very last thing I ever dreamt of. It was a regular nightmare. I was only 6000 feet up, and the Zepp, which was very fast, must have been ten. Without being able to get above it, I was, of course, helpless and entirely at the mercy of his maxim guns. I don't think I have been so disconcerted for a long time. We had "some" race! He tried to cut me off from Holland, but I got across his bows. He was a huge big thing, most imposing, and turned rapidly with the greatest of ease. I hung around north of Ghent, climbing hard, and reached 8,500 feet, but the Zepp wasn't having any. He wasn't coming down while I was there, and I, on the other hand, couldn't get up to him, as he had risen to some fabulous height, so after a bit I pushed off home feeling very discontented at such an unsatisfactory ending. What else could I do? I wasn't going back on the chance of spotting the sheds, with anti-aircraft guns waiting for me below and a Zepp ready to pounce on me from above.

I disposed of my bombs in the sea before landing, and got back after three hours in the air--eventually got to bed at something after 6 a.m. Have been in to see the Commander to-day, and he was kind enough to tell me I had done all that was possible. He also gave me a little job, which necessitates my getting away soon after midnight to-night. Pray the Lord my engine holds out!

Love to all.

Ever your loving son, HAROLD.

P.S.--I hear the Zepp dropped bombs at ----. I must have followed him half-way across.

XXXI.

_To his Mother._

No. 1 Wing, R.N.A.S., B. Squadron, B.E.F. 2nd June, 1915.

DEAR MUM,

Just a line to let you know how I fared last night. I left the aerodrome in the moonlight at one in the morning and I did not at all relish it. I went out to sea past Zeebrugge and cut in over Northern Belgium. Could see the lights of Flushing quite plainly, but it was quite hopeless to find my destination, owing to a thick ground mist, so I returned, dropping my bombs on Blankenberghe on the way. I was only away 1¾ hours, and it was just getting light as I got back. I landed with the help of flares and got to bed by 4 a.m.

Love to all.

Ever your loving son, HAROLD.

XXXII.

_To his Father._

No. 1 Wing, R.N.A.S., B Squadron, B.E.F. 5th June, 1915.

DEAR DAD,

Very little news to tell you, but thought you might like a line or so. I saw in the papers that poor old Barnes[12] has been killed and Travers [H. C. Travers, Flt. Sub-Lieut., R.N.] slightly injured. You remember meeting them both at Hendon. Their names appeared in the casualty lists, so I presume it was not an ordinary smash. Have heard no particulars, but I should fancy they both went up at night after the Zepps, and either had an engine failure or misjudged landing. That's another old Hendonite gone, though he wasn't one of the original ones, and don't think he is in the big photo group.

We lost a seaplane pilot out here the other day. He was brought down off Ostend. Also an awfully nice Belgian I know was taken prisoner two days ago.

Have returned my Avro to headquarters and am now flying my B.E. again. I only hold the controls just on getting off and on landing. I don't like them [the B.E. machines] in bad weather. They are too automatic. I have been getting some fine views lately of the lines. It's most interesting up this way.

Babington went home some days ago and Sippe is now in charge here. He has been unwell the last three days, so I am left in command of the station--four officers under me, over 30 men, machines, and seven or eight motors of various descriptions.

Have hopes of being given a Nieuport in a day or so. They are fast scouts, supposed to do over 90 miles per hour, and should get a Zepp with one with any luck. Don't know when I am rejoining Babington.

Love to all.

Ever your loving son, HAROLD.

XXXIII.

_To his Mother._

No. 1 Wing, R.N.A.S., B Squadron, B.E.F. 5th June, 1915.

DEAREST MUM,

I think you cannot have been getting all my letters, as I have never let 10 days go by without a line or so. You are so insistent on numerous letters that you must really excuse the margin or I shall reduce to postcards. Yes, I got the five pounds all right and am urgently wanting the other. You don't seem to fully realize yet that I have left Dunkirk, and that there is not, and never has been, such a thing as a bank within miles of the place. The camera and papers turned up yesterday, for which many thanks. Do send _Flight_ and the _Aeroplane_. I have not seen them for weeks. Am just about fed up with this place. We are being turned out and having tents up at the aerodrome.

Big haul last night. Warneford [R. A. J. Warneford, V.C., Flt. Sub-Lieut., R.N.] caught a Zepp at 6,000 feet and did it in, and another was caught in its shed by Wilson and Mills [J. S. Wilson, D.S.C.; F. Mills, D.S.C., both Flight Comdrs., R.N.].

There was also a huge fire at the hospital here last night. All the wounded men were got out, and the sands were strewn with them in beds, etc.

Love to all.

Ever your loving son, HAROLD.

XXXIV

_To his Father._

No. 1 Wing, R.N.A.S., B Squadron, B.E.F. 8th June, 1915.

DEAR DAD,

We are now in tents. Great news about Warneford, isn't it? He certainly deserves the V.C. Am going to fly a Nieuport to-morrow.

12th June, 1915.

Things have been going on much as usual the last few days, but to-morrow I am going down south somewhere (I don't yet know where) to do some spotting for the army. Expect to be away about ten days or perhaps two weeks. Address all letters as usual. It will probably be some time before I receive them. I quite expect I shall run across a number of people I know. It should be an interesting visit, plenty of shell fire though, no doubt.

I flew a Nieuport the other day and hope later to get one of my own. Have not yet heard from Babington. Fear our chances of getting away with him are very slender.

Gramophone going strong.

Love to all.

Ever your loving son, HAROLD.

XXXV.

_To his Mother._

No. 1 Wing, R.N.A.S., B Squadron, B.E.F. 19th June, 1915.

DEAREST MUM,

It's ages since I wrote, but it can't be helped, as I have been so awfully busy. For the last week I have been in the neighbourhood of La Bassée, and of course by now you have seen in the papers all about the heavy fighting there. The bombardment was terrific, quite impossible to describe. One day, in the afternoon, I saw it all from above. The small section of trenches they were shelling was simply a mass of smoke and dust, a perfect hell. In the evening of the same day I went out in a car to a point of vantage about three miles behind the line. It was a wonderful sight. Though not near enough to see the infantry advancing, we had, all the same, a fine view. Whenever there was a slight lull in the firing, we heard the maxims and rifles hard at it.

There is no mistaking the battle line in this part of the world--a long, narrow winding blighted patch of land, extending roughly N. and S. as far as the eye can see. In the middle of it two rows of trenches, in places only 50 yards apart, stand out very conspicuously. These are our first line and that of the Huns. Behind each are the second and third lines, with little zigzag communicating trenches between. It is most interesting. There are some beastly Archies [anti-aircraft guns] though, which come unpleasantly near first shot. Machines are being hit day after day.

Am more or less comfortable on the whole, but running short of socks and hankies. Am also being bitten to death and "hae my doots" about their being mosquitoes. Terrible trouble with machines. I crashed an undercarriage the other day and cannot get an engine to go. Isn't it terrible news about Warneford? He fell out of his machine, not being strapped in. Babington is in hospital. His foot is giving him trouble again, so fear we shall not get away with him yet awhile.

The dust out here is appalling. Will write again as soon as I can.

Best love to all.

Ever your loving son, HAROLD.

XXXVI.

_To his Father._

No. 1 Squadron, Royal Flying Corps, B.E.F. 24th June, 1915.

DEAR DAD,

Very little news. From what I can see, we are likely to be down here for at least another two weeks. I don't much mind, as in a way I would sooner be here for a little. The change though has rather worn off. Am not a bit comfortable, my billet being a horrible dirty place, with all sorts of weird odours. Food pretty fair, but none too clean, and all eating utensils invariably very dirty.

I suppose tennis is in full swing at home. Pity I'm not due for another spot of leave yet. I got the parcel of papers all right, but not _Flight_ and the _Aeroplane_. Think they must have gone astray.

No. 1 Wing, R.N.A.S., B.E.F. 21st July, 1915.

I flew my old B.E. back here [Dunkirk] yesterday, as it has been hot stuffed [requisitioned]. I admit it is rather a dud, but I had no wish to exchange it for a Voisin. After some little trouble I persuaded the Commander to let me have a Morane instead, and tried quite a nice one this morning, the first time I have flown one since I smashed. They are beastly unstable things, and I fully expect to turn this one over before the week is out. The Commander is keeping me here for a few days' rest before returning to the R.F.C. Dunkirk is quite a lively place nowadays. The Huns have dropped bombs on the aerodrome twice in the last week, but fortunately none of the lads were killed.

Love to all.

Ever your loving son, HAROLD.

NOTE.

_On the 25th July, 1915, Harold Rosher arrived home on two days' leave, having come across to attend a conference._

XXXVII.

_To his Father._

No. 1 Wing, R.N.A.S., B.E.F. 28th July, 1915.

DEAR DAD,

Have had a ripping journey back. The country down to Folkestone was just too lovely for words, especially round Ashford. Saw Milverton [the house where he was born] on the way. Had a first-rate crossing, and was met by one of the Rolls [Rolls-Royce car] at Boulogne, so your wire arrived all right. Had lunch at the "Folkestone" before starting back, and then a topping run here. Went out to see the lads at F---- in the evening. Sippe is back again and Baillie in great form. He sends his chin chins, and I gave him yours.

A Hun came over at midnight last night and bombed us. His eight bombs fell nearly a mile away, though.

31st July, 1915.

More excitement. I was due for an anti-aircraft patrol this morning, and just as I was ready, a little before 4.0 a.m., a Hun machine came over and bombed us. Three bombs fell within a hundred yards of me. I went up after him at once, but lost sight of him in the air, so continued the usual patrol. When I got back, I found that six other machines had followed the first, arriving about fifteen minutes after. None of their bombs did any damage at all. They seem determined to _strafe_ this place. A regular cloud of machines goes up after them whenever they appear, but we haven't had much luck as yet.

Expect to be stationed at Dover again in about ten days, for a little while anyhow. The Commander seems to think I don't look fit enough to go out to the Dardanelles. Apparently they are being bowled over with dysentery.

Love to all.

Ever your loving son, HAROLD.

[12] Flight Sub-Lieut. Henry Barnes, killed in an accident near London, 4th Oct., 1915.

VII

ON HOME SERVICE AGAIN

XXXVIII.

_To his Father._

R.N. Flying School, Eastchurch. 3rd August, 1915.

DEAR DAD,

I left Dover yesterday afternoon on B.E. 2 C, and had a convenient engine failure at Westgate. Landed in the aerodrome and had a chat with Maude before proceeding. Arrived here in due course--it is a most desolate spot. Shall be here anything between three days and three weeks. Saw Babington here soon after I arrived.

10th August, 1915.

I don't seem to be able to get away from this damn war. Last night "old man Zepp" came over here--"beaucoup de bombs,"--"pas de success." Two machines went up to spikebozzle him, but, of course, never even saw him. A sub went up from Westgate and came down in standing corn. He turned two somersaults. Have just heard that he has since died. I knew him slightly. We have a terrific big bomb hole in the middle of the aerodrome and numerous smaller ones at the back. Expect to be back in Dunkirk on Sunday next. "Pas de Dardanelles." We are going into khaki though.

Love to all.

Ever your loving son, HAROLD.

XXXIX.

_To his Father._

Hotel Burlington, Dover. 12th August, 1915.

DEAR DAD,

Have just arrived here from Eastchurch, having been suddenly recalled, and am now told to be ready to cross to Dunkirk in half an hour--no gear, dirty linen, "pas de leave"--what a life!

Shall try hard to get some leave in a week or so's time. Anyhow I must get my khaki outfit.

Love.

Your loving son, HAROLD.

VIII

WITH THE B.E.F. ONCE MORE

XL.

_To his Mother._

No. 1 Wing, R.N.A.S., B.E.F. 13th August, 1915.

DEAREST MUM,

Got aboard and were off by 8.0 p.m. last night--our ship a comic old tramp with absolutely no accommodation. It took us 6 hours to make Dunkirk and we were not allowed off until 8.0 a.m. this morning. Spent the night walking about or trying to get a little sleep on deck--thank God! it was not rough. We are all "fed to the teeth!" In all probability we shall remain out here another six months now.

The Zepp that was bombed from here had actually been towed right into Ostend harbour. Everyone that went had his machine hit, and one man is missing. This place was bombarded again the other day with the big gun. Expect we are in for a merry time.

Love.

Ever your loving son, HAROLD.

XLI.

_To his Mother._

No. 1 Wing R.N.A.S., B.E.F. 26th August, 1915.

DEAREST MUM,

I am being kept very busy out here. Last night there was a comic raid on the Forest of Houthulst. It is six or seven miles behind the lines near Dixmude, and the Huns use it as a rest camp--beaucoup de stores and ammunition there too. The French idea was to set it on fire with incendiary bombs. Over forty machines took part, including self--perfect weather conditions--no clouds but very hazy, so when one got high up one was almost invisible. I got just over 11,000 feet, but even then had one or two shots near me. Below me the air was simply a mass of bursting shrapnel. French artillery also opened fire on the place. There must have been beaucoup de noise in the forest. Most amusing--a really soft job as some one remarked.

Love to all.

Your loving son, HAROLD.

NOTE.

_The French official account of the raid described in the foregoing letter was as follows_:--

"A remarkable series of air raids against German positions or works of military value are reported in yesterday's Paris _communiqués_. In two of them the air squadrons were larger than any previously reported since the beginning of the war.

In one 62 French airmen took part....

The other great raid was undertaken by airmen of the British, French, and Belgian armies, and the British and French navies, to the number of 60. Acting in concert, they attacked the Forest of Houthulst, in Belgium, north-east of Ypres. Several fires broke out. All the aeroplanes returned safely.... Previously the largest squadron of attacking aeroplanes was one of 48 machines--of which 40 were British--which attacked the Belgian coast on February 16th last."

XLII.

_To his Father._

No 1 Wing, R.N.A.S., B.E.F. 26th August, 1915.

DEAR DAD,

What do you think of the 40 warships bombarding Zeebrugge? We were all due out there, of course, some spotting, and fighters to protect the spotters. As luck would have it, the weather was dud--clouds at 1,500 feet--with the result that no one got there except a solitary fighter, and he was rewarded by a scrap with a German seaplane. I got just past Ostend, but gave it up as engine was running none too well.

By the way, Bigsworth [A. W. Bigsworth, D.S.O., Squadron Comdr., R.N.] this morning dropped a 60 lb. bomb bang on top of a German submarine and completely did it in--jolly good work.

29th August, 1915.

As things stand at present I understand I am not going out to the Dardanelles. I must say I am awfully disappointed, as I was always rather keen to go out there, but I may possibly have a better job. For all I know it may be to rejoin Babington.

Went out to Furnes yesterday afternoon to collect more of my gear. While out there, a German machine came over and dropped six bombs on us. One went right into our tent and three fell within forty yards of me. No one was hit. We all ran like stags.

2nd September, 1915.

Many thanks for your numerous letters, including two forwarded, and beaucoup de periodicals. With luck I shall be home in time for your birthday.

Many alterations are taking place here and we are being sadly split up. Andreae and I are very soon going to Dover to join a mythical "C" group. At present Andreae and I are its sole components--even a Squadron Commander is not yet appointed. I am to be 1st Lieut., good for me, but fear they may yet put in a Flight Commander. In all probability we shall be in England over two months. Shall know a heap more in a few days.

9th September, 1915.

Very little news except that we had the monitors bombarding Ostend the day before yesterday. It was a fine sight from the air. A Frenchman was badly hit in the leg going out there, but went on, dropped his bombs and got back. He is not expected to live. Another Frenchman broke his leg this morning in an accident. Four new subs have turned up here and I am to go home as soon as they can fly the fast machines--it should be within 10 days. I ought to have gone home by rights about two weeks ago. Am flying over when I eventually do come. The last two machines that went over both crashed at Folkestone--shall probably do the same.

Love to all.

Ever your loving son, HAROLD.

IX

ON HOME SERVICE ONCE MORE

XLIII.

_To his Father._

Hotel Burlington, Dover. 13th September, 1915.

DEAR DAD,

Am back again in England at last and am expecting to get two weeks' leave in a day or so. I got here at midday yesterday, having flown over from Dunkirk on a Nieuport. Drove out to Margate yesterday afternoon with Spenser Grey. Shall probably go out again on the 1st December.

14th September, 1915.

Just a line to let you know my probable movements. Though I am due for two weeks' leave, it seems improbable that I shall get it just yet awhile, but shall not be returning to Dunkirk until December 1st, when I shall remain out there for two months.

I have just taken over the 1st Lieutenant's job on this station, and this is keeping me busy no end. I am the senior officer, bar the C.O., in fact 2nd in Command, and am responsible for everything going on at the station, _i.e._ all executive work, etc. It is, of course, all new to me, and I find myself at sea every now and again. It is, however, a great opportunity. You should see me take parades (divisions, we call them), swish!

Please send me on, as soon as possible, my new monkey jacket and new pair of trousers, also new hat. My present uniform is most disreputable, covered in oil, etc., and must be scrapped at the earliest opportunity.

29th September, 1915.

I knew I should forget it, your birthday I mean. I suddenly remembered it whilst shaving this morning. I have been carrying a two-year-old note book about with me too, to remind me, as it was marked in it--pas de good though, and it's such a long time ago now. Beaucoup de work, or I would have written sooner.

I have just heard a nasty rumour that I am returning to Dunkirk on October 15th. We are getting 40 subs down here in a few days. That means tons more work for me.

4th October, 1915.

I think I shall get my leave (10 days only) next week. Risk [Major C. E. Risk, Squadron Commander, R.N.] asked me if I would like to remain here as 1st Lieutenant, an awful question to decide. I think I shall let things stay as they are and take my flight out to Dunkirk on October 15th. It seems too much like giving in to stay here.

30th October, 1915.

You picked me out a ripping train! It took me four hours to get down here with a change at Faversham. When I arrived at the Priory Station I was told it would be half an hour before the train could proceed to the Harbour, so had to get out and walk. I got in here at ten past ten, and the last straw was that Betty had no sandwiches left.

Graham [C. W. Graham, D.S.O.,[13] Flt. Lieut., R.N.] nearly killed himself this afternoon. He got into a spinning nose dive on a Morane parasol, and by the Grace of God got out again at 500 feet. In all probability I shall get my leave after this next lot of pilots have gone out to Dunkirk, but that remains to be seen.

14th November, 1915.

Am postponing my leave until still later, as it is rather important for me to stay here at the moment. Good things so very rarely come off though. I shall be most bitterly disappointed, however, if another two months does not see me on Active Service again.

30th November, 1915.

Can you come down this week-end? I have great hopes that Husky and Baillie will be back from the other side.

Apparently they had quite a good bag a day or so ago, one Hun seaplane, one submarine, and a bomb bang in the middle of a T.B.D. [torpedo boat destroyer].

Risk is away most of this week, but should be back by Saturday. He flew a Maurice over from Dunkirk last week and made quite a landing on arrival.

15th December, 1915.

I so much enjoyed my too short week-end. I fear I shall not be able to get up to Town again until after Xmas. Had quite a nice journey down, making Stewart's [W. S. Stewart, Flt. Sub-Lieut., R.N.] acquaintance on the way, likewise his wife's.

Risk said he thought I had been away months, and seemed quite relieved to see me back again. Graham and Ince [S. Ince, D.S.C., Flt. Sub-Lieut., R.N.] have put up a first-rate performance. They were not shot down. Graham came down low to see the Huns in the water, and his engine never picked up again. The Hun machine caught fire, and must have had bombs on it, for it exploded on hitting the water. Both machines fell bang in the middle of the fleet, which was duly impressed. Graham, of course, turned a somersault, and both he and Ince were nearly drowned.

1st January, 1916.

Had a great evening last night. A crowd of us went to dinner with G---- to see the New Year in. We did it in style. To-morrow I am lunching with the Bax-Ironsides.[14]