April 30th was a red-letter day for me. I celebrated it by having a
record number of fights in a given space of time. In one hour and
forty-five minutes I had nine separate scraps. This was during the
morning. Before we had tea that afternoon, the Major and I had a
set-to with four scarlet German scouts that was the most hair-raising
encounter I have ever been mixed up in.
This very pleasant fighting-day started when I led my patrol over the
lines, and dived so steeply after an enemy machine which suddenly
appeared beneath me that I nearly turned over. The remainder of the
patrol lost me completely. I kept putting the nose of my Nieuport down
until I got beyond the vertical point. I fell forward in my seat and
struck my head against the little wind-screen. I was going down so fast
I upset my aim completely, and allowed the Hun, by a quick manœuvre,
to escape me altogether. The patrol had disappeared, so I climbed up as
fast as I could to have a look around.
Five minutes later I saw two huge Huns directly over our lines. They
were easily mammoths of the air. I wanted to have a look at the
strangers, so started in their direction, keeping my own level, which
was a little beneath the big Germans. They grew rapidly in size as I
approached, and I took them to be some new type of two-seater. From
later experiences and diagrams I have seen, I think now they must have
been the three-seater Gothas--like the machines that later flew over
London so often, many of them coming to grief as the penalty of their
daring.
This was probably the first appearance of the Gothas over our lines. A
few days later I had another glimpse of two of them in the distance;
but that was the last I saw of the monstrous Germans. This day they
seemed rather keen for a fight, and one of them came down in a slow
spiral to get at me. I, at the same time, was trying to stay in the
“blind spot” just beneath him, and hoped eventually to get a steady
shot at some vital point. We must have made a ludicrous picture, little
me under the huge Hun. I felt like a mosquito chasing a wasp, but was
willing to take a chance.
While manœuvring with the first monster, the second one dived at me
from a slight angle, and seemed to open fire with a whole battery of
machine guns. I dived to gain a little more speed, then pulled my nose
straight up into the air and opened fire. When I had got off about
fifteen rounds, the gun jammed, and I had to dive quickly away to see
what was wrong. I found I could do nothing with it in the air; but my
aerodrome was only a few miles away, so I dived down to it, corrected
the jam, and was away again in a few minutes in search of more
excitement.
I was very peevish with myself for having missed a chance to bring down
one of the big new German machines, and was in a real fighting temper
as I recrossed the lines. I had not gone far on my way when I saw three
of the enemy about two miles away, doing artillery work. I dived for
the nearest one and opened fire. Then I had the somewhat stirring
sensation of seeing flaming bullets coming from all three of the Huns
at once in my direction. The odds were three to one against me, and
each enemy machine had two guns to my one, but suddenly they quit
firing, turned, and fled away. I went after them, but quickly saw the
game they were attempting to play. They were trying to lead me directly
under five scarlet Albatross scouts.
These scarlet machines, as I have explained before, all belonged to
von Richtofen’s squadron. I saw them just in time to turn away. I drew
off about a mile, then easily outclimbed my brilliant red rivals.
Having gained the advantage of position, I decided to have a go at the
crack German flyers. I dived toward them with my gun rattling, but
just before reaching their level I pulled the machine up and “zoomed”
straight up in the air, ascending for a short distance with the speed
of a rocket. Then I would turn and dive and open fire again, repeating
the performance several times. The Huns evidently had expected me
to dive right through them, but my tactics took them by surprise and
they began to show nervousness. After the third “zoom” and dive, the
formation broke up and scattered.
Then I turned around to look for the treacherous two-seaters who had
sought to lead me into a veritable death-trap. I had searched several
minutes before I picked them out of the sky, and I can still remember
the thrill of joy with which I hailed them. It had seemed such a rotten
trick, when they were three to one, not even to show fight, but simply
try to trick me. I felt I must have vengeance, and went after them with
the firm conviction that this time something was going to happen. I got
into position where they would pass in front of me, and dived at the
second Hun. His observer was firing at me, and pretty soon the other
two Huns chimed in. Add to this staccato chorus the healthy rattle of
my own gun, and you may gain some idea of the din we were making in
mid-air. My first twenty shots silenced the observer in the machine
I was attacking, and as I passed over it, it suddenly slipped to one
side, then stood on its nose, and fell. I did not have time to watch
this machine down, but turned to attack the third Hun in the line. He
had seen his comrade’s fate, however, and, losing heart, had begun
to dive away. I poured fifty rounds after him, then let him go. The
leading machine had now disappeared, so I was left free to dive down
and see what had happened to the Hun who had fallen out of the fight.
He crashed in the most satisfactory manner. I turned and flew south,
feeling very much better.
But I was not idle long. The five scarlet scouts had gotten together
again and were approaching our lines farther south with the evident
intention of attacking isolated British artillery machines. This
particular squadron had made a habit of sneaking across our lines
during the spring, and its leader had become known among our infantry
as the “Little Red Devil,” and one still hears him spoken of by the
people who were in the trenches at that time. We had often tried
to catch him on one of these expeditions, but he and his scarlet
followers always chose a moment when our fighting patrols were engaged
on another sector of the front. Then, dashing across the lines, the red
Albatrosses would shoot down one of our older machines which we were
employing then on observation work.
This morning I had an extra feeling of bitterness toward the Richtofens
for their mean attempt to trick, and I went after them again with a
feeling of exalted strength. I was above them as before, and, after
one dive, they turned away east and gave up their idea of setting upon
our artillery workers. I considered it unwise to go down and actually
mix in the middle of them, as they were all good men. So I contented
myself with harassing them from above, as I had done in the previous
fight with the quintet that morning. They were apparently much annoyed
at this, and kept steadily on their way east. I followed for quite a
distance, and then sat over them as one by one they all went down and
landed.
On the way home I had a skirmish with two German artillery machines,
but we did not get within very close range of each other and nothing
happened. They were frightened a bit, none the less, and sped away.
In a little while, however, they plucked up courage and came back to
resume their work of spotting for the German guns. This time I tried
going at them from the front, and it proved exciting, to say the
least. I approached the leading Hun of the pair head on, opening fire
when about 200 yards away. He also opened fire about the same time.
We drew nearer and nearer together, both firing as fast and direct as
we could. I could see the Hun bullets going about 3 feet to one side
of me, passing between my upper and lower planes. My own were doing
better work, and several times it seemed certain that some of them were
hitting the front of the enemy machine. On we came, each doing over
a hundred miles an hour, which would have meant a colliding impact
of more than two hundred miles an hour. With big engines in front of
us for protection, we were taking the risks of each other’s bullets.
Thirty yards away we were both holding to our course, and then, much
to my relief, be it confessed, the Hun dived, and I thought I had hit
him. I turned quickly, but in doing so lost sight of him completely.
Then a second later I saw him, some distance away, going down in a
slight glide, evidently quite under control, but I think badly hit. The
other machine followed him down and neither of them returned. I had
very little ammunition left, but stayed on the lines another fifteen
minutes hoping for one more fight.
It came when I sighted one of my favourites--an enemy two-seater--at
work. I got directly above him, then dived vertically, reserving my
fire until I was very close. The enemy observer had his gun trained up
at me, and the bullets were streaming past as I came down. I missed him
on my dive, so shot by his tail, then “zoomed” up underneath and opened
fire from the “blind spot” there.
I don’t know what was the matter with my shooting this morning, for,
with the exception of the machine I hit from the side, it seemed to
have become a habit with my enemies to dive away from me and escape.
I did not seem to be able to knock them out of control. This one, like
the others, dived steeply, and though I followed and fired all of my
remaining bullets after him, he continued in his long straight dive and
landed safely in the corner of a field near the city of Lens. Two or
three “Archie” batteries took “bites” at me as I crossed the lines for
luncheon.
Then came my thrilling adventure of the afternoon. The many experiences
of the morning had put me in good humour for fighting, and immediately
the midday meal was finished, I was up in the air again, with my
squadron commander, to see if there were any Huns about looking for a
bit of trouble. We patrolled along the lines for twenty minutes, but
saw nothing in that time. Then, as I was leading, I headed further
into enemy territory, and presently, to the south of us, we saw five
Albatross scouts. We went after them, but before we had come within
firing distance, we discovered four red Albatrosses just to our right.
This latter quartette, I believe, was made up of Baron von Richtofen
and three of his best men.
However, although we knew who they were, we had been searching for
a fight, and were feeling rather bored with doing nothing, so after
the four we went. The Major reached them first and opened fire on the
rear machine from behind. Immediately the leader of the scouts did a
lightning turn and came back at the Major, firing at him and passing
within two or three feet of his machine. In my turn I opened fire on
the Baron, and in another half-moment found myself in the midst of what
seemed to be a stampede of bloodthirsty animals. Everywhere I turned
smoking bullets were jumping at me, and although I got in two or three
good bursts at the Baron’s “red devil,” I was rather bewildered for two
or three minutes, as I could not see what was happening to the Major
and was not at all certain as to what was going to happen to me.
It was a decided difference from the fighting of the morning. The
Germans seemed to be out to avenge their losses, and certainly were in
fighting trim. Around we went in cyclonic circles for several minutes,
here a flash of the Hun machines, then a flash of silver as my squadron
commander would whizz by. All the time I would be in the same mix-up
myself, every now and then finding a red machine in front of me and
getting in a round or two of quick shots. I was glad the Germans were
scarlet and we were silver. There was no need to hesitate about firing
when the right colour flitted by your nose. It was a lightning fight,
and I have never been in anything just like it. Firing one moment,
you would have to concentrate all your mind and muscle the next in
doing a quick turn to avoid a collision. Once my gun jammed, and while
manœuvring to the utmost of my ability to escape the direct fire of one
of the ravenous Germans, I had to “fuss” with the weapon until I got
it right again. I had just got going again when von Richtofen flashed
by me and I let him have a short burst. As I did so, I saw up above me
four more machines coming down to join in the fight. Being far inside
the German lines, I at once decided they were additional Huns, so I
“zoomed” up out of the fight to be free for a moment and have a look
around. The moment I did this I saw the approaching machines were
tri-planes, belonging to one of our naval squadrons, and they were
coming for all they were worth to help us against the Albatrosses. The
latter, however, had had enough of the fight by now, and at the moment
I “zoomed” they dived and flew away toward the earth. I did not know
this until I looked down to where the fight should still have been in
progress. There was nothing to be seen. Everybody had disappeared,
including the Major. It was a sad moment for me, for I felt I had
surely lost him this time. After circling over the spot for five
minutes or more and exchanging signals with the tri-planes, I started
for home with a heavy heart.
On the way I saw another machine approaching me, and got into fighting
position in the event it should prove hostile. As we drew nearer
together I recognized it as another Nieuport, and then, to my great
joy, I realized it was the Major. He had flown west at top speed as
soon as he saw the fight was over and I was not to be seen. He was
afraid I had followed the Huns down to the ground in my excitement, and
was very anxious as to what had happened to me. Upon recognizing each
other we waved our hands in the air, then came close enough together to
exchange broad grins. We flew side by side to the aerodrome and landed.
I found my machine had been very badly shot about, one group of seven
bullets having passed within an inch of me in one place. It had been a
close shave, but a wonderful, soul-stirring fight.