BOOK II

_ON ACTIVE SERVICE_

R.F.C. ALPHABET 56

I. THE OPENING MOVEMENTS 57 SOMEWHERE 57 MAP STUDY 59 A FORCED LANDING 61 ARCHIES 62 AGED NINETEEN 64 A CONCERT 65

II. INCREASING THE PACE 67 FRENCH AVIATOR’S BAG 67 THE ENEMY IN OUR MIDST 68 “HOT-AIR STUFF” 71 A BIG “STRAFE” 72 LOOPING THE LOOP 75 NIGHT FLYING 80 PHOTOS 81 HIDE AND SEEK 82 “MISSING” 85 PANCAKING IN A WHEAT FIELD 87 AN EXCITING LANDING 89 DUAL CONTROL 90

III. STORM AFTER CALM 94 BACK TO DUTY 94 A GOOD STORY 96 A FOKKER’S FLIGHT 97 A TAIL PIECE 98 NIGHT BOMBING 99 GESTICULATION IN MID-AIR 102 A FIREWORK DISPLAY 104 A MIXED GRILL 106 STALLING 110 AN AIR FIGHT 116

ORDERED OVERSEAS

(_After Kipling_)

Does he know the road to Flanders, does he know the criss-cross tracks With the row of sturdy hangars at the end? Does he know that shady corner where, the job done, we relax To the music of the engines round the bend? It is here that he is coming with his gun and battle ’plane To the little aerodrome at--well _you_ know! To a wooden hut abutting on a quiet country lane, For he’s ordered overseas and he must go.

Has he seen those leagues of trenches, the traverses steep and stark, High over which the British pilots ride? Does he know the fear of flying miles to eastward of his mark When his only map has vanished over-side? It is there that he is going, and it takes a deal of doing, There are many things he really ought to know; And there isn’t time to swot ’em if a Fokker he’s pursuing, For he’s ordered overseas and he must go.

Does he know that ruined town, that old ---- of renown? Has he heard the crack of Archie bursting near? Has he known that ghastly moment when your engine lets you down? Has he ever had that feeling known as fear? It’s to Flanders he is going with a brand-new aeroplane To take the place of one that’s dropped below, To fly and fight and photo mid the storms of wind and rain, For he’s ordered overseas and he must go.

_Then the hangar door flies open and the engine starts its roar, And the pilot gives the signal with his hand; As he rises over England he looks back upon the shore, For the Lord alone knows where he’s going to land. Now the plane begins to gather speed, completing lap on lap, Till, after diving down and skimming low, They’re off to shattered Flanders, by the compass and the map-- They were ordered overseas and had to go._

_INTRODUCTORY_

THE DEVELOPMENT OF AN IDEA

I

The first number of the well-thumbed file of _Flight_, carefully kept by “Theta” up to the present day, bears date July 30, 1910, just two years after the first public flight in the world. At that time this particular public-schoolboy was thirteen years of age. His interest in aviation, however, dated from considerably before that period, and its first manifestation took the form of paper gliders. Beyond the fact that they could be manipulated with marvellous dexterity and that they could be extremely disturbing to the rest of the class in school, no more need be said. In December 1910 “Theta” felt that he had a message on airships to convey to the world, and he communicated it through the medium of the school Journal. Thenceforward he wrote regularly on flying topics for the Journal, and for four years acted as its Aeronautical Editor. Throughout 1911, with two school friends, he also assisted in producing _Aviation_, a cyclostyle sheet of small circulation proudly claimed as “the first monthly penny Aviation journal in the world.” Therein the various types of machines were discussed with all the delightful cocksureness of youth, and various serial stories based on flying adventures duly ran their course. For some years he pursued the construction of model aeroplanes with an assiduity that may well have been fatal to school work and games, and that was kept up until the German power-driven model drove the elastically-propelled machines into the realms of toydom. A motley crowd of enthusiasts used to gather every Saturday and Sunday in one of the great open spaces of London for the practice of their craft--nearly all boys in their teens, occasionally one or two grown-ups with mechanical interests. When the War came the group broke up. Some of them took up real aircraft construction; others became attached to the Air Service, naval and military, as mechanics. At least two became flying officers.

In July 1911 “Theta” obtained his first Pilot’s Certificate, from an Aero Club which he had assisted in founding. The document is perhaps sufficiently interesting to reproduce:

No. 1

X.Y.Z. AERO CLUB: PILOT’S CERTIFICATE

I hereby Certify that “Theta” has passed the required tests for the above-named Certificate. The tests have been witnessed by the undernamed:

R. H. W. and J. H. C.,

who are Members of the X.Y.Z. Aero Club.

The tests are as follows:--

1. Flight of 100 yards.

2. Circular flight of any distance provided the machine does not touch the ground and lands within fifteen yards of the starting-point.

3. Or (alternative) flight of any distance when machine flies not less than six feet higher than the starting-point.

4. Flight lasting at least eight seconds.

The above tests have been approved by the members of the Club.

(_Signed_) R. H. W., _Secretary_.[1] J. H. C., _President_.[2]

The tests would have been very different a few months later, and really wonderful long-distance flights were afterwards accomplished.

In order to be able to write with some authority, “Theta” kept abreast of all developments in Aeronautics, reading with avidity all the literature on the subject and visiting the flying-grounds. The first aeroplane he saw in the air was when Paulhan gave a demonstration of flying at Sandown Park. Subsequently numerous pilgrimages to Brooklands and Hendon were made.

There followed visits to France in the vacations. On the second visit “Theta” and a companion, it was afterwards discovered, cycled round the rough and narrow stone parapet of a fort when a single slip would have meant precipitation into a moat on one side, or into the sea on the other. It was a test of nerves. The return from the third visit was memorable. “Theta” had left his portmanteau on a railway platform in Normandy and his waterproof on the Cross-channel steamer; but he arrived at Waterloo serenely content with the wreck of his model aeroplane wrapped up in an old French newspaper and a bathing-towel. His knowledge of French and his customary luck, however, served him, and the missing impedimenta duly followed him up in the course of a day or two. Of his French friends--three brothers--one was killed in the opening months of the War; a second was wounded and taken prisoner by the Germans, after an adventure that would have won him the V.C. in this country; and the third, as interpreter, was one of the links between the Allied forces at the Dardanelles, and is now engaged on similar work.

A few months before war broke out “Theta” visited Germany and photographed the Zeppelin “Viktoria Luise” and its hangar at Frankfort. He was immensely struck by the ease with which the huge airship was manipulated, and with its value as a sea scout; but as a fighting instrument he put his money on the heavier-than-air machines. So grew day by day, month by month, and year by year--without the least slackening--that interest in aviation which came to fruition in war time.

II

“Theta” was born in May 1897; the War broke out in August 1914. On his eighteenth birthday “Theta” decided that it was time to “get a move on.” His ambition from the first had been to enter the Royal Flying Corps. This was opposed chiefly because of his youth and seeming immaturity and the excessive danger attached to training. But fate, impelled by inclination, proved too strong. He had been a member of his O.T.C. for four years, and had attended camps at Aldershot and Salisbury Plain; but he deliberately set his face against “foot-slogging.” He urged that though he was old enough to risk his own life he was not old enough to risk the lives of others--his seniors--by accepting an infantry commission.

After many preliminaries an appointment was secured at the War Office with a High Official of Military Aeronautics. There “Theta” was subjected to a curiously interesting catechism which seemed to touch on nearly every possible branch of activity under the sun except aviation. Finally the High Official, probably seeing a way of ridding himself of a candidate who had accomplished little or nothing of the various deeds of daring enumerated in the Shorter Catechism, suggested an immediate medical examination on the premises. That ordeal safely passed, “Theta” returned to his catechist, who said wearily, “Well, we’ll try you, but you know you have not many of the qualifications for a flying officer.” “Theta” returned to school to await his summons, which was promised within two months. The school term ended; a motor-cycling holiday in Devon followed--and still no call. On the return to London a reminder was sent to the War Office. There immediately came a telegram ordering “Theta” to report for instruction at what may be called Aerodrome “A.”

Training began almost at once with a joy-ride of ten minutes’ duration. But the weather was for the most part what the aviators in their slang call “dud.” An “abominable mist” hung over the aerodrome, and consequently, though the period of instruction was fairly prolonged, the opportunities for flights were few. There was much waiting and little flying, and the bored youth was driven to music and rhyming to fill up the interstices. But before the end of the year a good deal had been accomplished. At the close of his eleventh lesson “Theta” was told to hold himself in readiness for a “solo” performance.

After four more flights came the successful tests for the “Ticket” which transforms the pupil into a certificated aviator. This preliminary triumph was celebrated the same evening by a joy-ride at nearly 2,000 feet, the highest altitude that “Theta” had reached on a solo performance. Nearly four years and a half had elapsed between the schoolboy “Ticket” and the real thing.

Then came a transfer to another and more advanced type of machine. On this there were but three flights with an instructor, and then another “solo” performance. Towards the close of the year “Theta” left Aerodrome “A” for Aerodrome “B,” having in the meantime been gazetted as a probationary second lieutenant, Special Reserve.

The advanced course occupied about three months. It proved more exciting in many ways. In the elementary portion of training “Theta” saw many “crashes,” none of which, however, proved fatal. In the second, war conditions more nearly prevailed, and at times--when, for example, three colleagues lost their lives in flying, and a Canadian friend who shared his hut in training was reported “missing, believed killed,” within a few weeks of reaching the front--the stern realities of his new profession were driven home.

But youth is ever cheerful and optimistic. In fulness of time there came a flight of a covey of seven “probationaries” in one taxicab to an examination centre for “wings,” a successful ending, followed shortly afterwards by final leave, an early-morning gathering of newly made flying officers at Charing Cross Station, the leave-taking, and the departure to the front.

Training was over; the testing-time had come. Before his nineteenth birthday was reached “Theta” had been across the German lines.

His letters may now be allowed to “carry on.”