The year 1912 was marked by the institution of the Royal Flying Corps.
The new corps, which was so soon to make its mark in the greatest of all
wars, consisted of naval and military "wings". In those early days the
head-quarters of the corps were at Eastchurch, and there both naval
and military officers were trained in aviation. In an arm of such
rapid--almost miraculous--development as Service flying to go back a
period of six years is almost to take a plunge into ancient history.
Designs, engines, guns, fittings, signals of those days are now almost
archaic. The British engine of reliable make had not yet been evolved,
and the aeroplane generally was a conglomerate affair made up of parts
assembled from various parts of the Continent. The present-day sea-plane
was yet to come, and naval pilots shared the land-going aeroplanes
of their military brethren. In the days when Bleriot provided a world
sensation by flying across the Channel the new science was kept
alive mainly by the private enterprise of newspapers and aeroplane
manufacturers. The official attitude, as is so often the case in the
history of inventions, was as frigid as could be. The Government looked
on with a cold and critical eye, and could not be touched either in
heart or in pocket.
But with the institution of the Royal Flying Corps the official heart
began to warm slightly, and certain tests were laid down for those
manufacturers who aspired to sell their machines to the new arm of
the Service. These tests, providing for fuel capacity up to 4.0 miles,
speeds up to 85 miles an hour, and heights up to 3500 feet, would now
be regarded as very elementary affairs. "Looping the loop" was still a
dangerous trick for the exhibiting airman and not an evolution; while
the "nose-dive" was an uncalculated entry into the next world.
The first important stage in the history of the new arm was reached in
July, 1914, when the wing system was abolished, and the Royal Naval Air
Service became a separate unit of the Imperial Forces. The first public
appearance of the sailor airmen was at a proposed review of the fleet by
the King at a test mobilization. The King was unable to attend, but the
naval pilots carried out their part of the programme very creditably
considering the polyglot nature of their sea-planes. A few weeks later
and the country was at war.
There can be no doubt that the Great War has had an enormous forcing
influence upon the science of aviation. In times of peace the old game
of private enterprise and official neglect would possibly have been
carried on in well-marked stages. But with the terrific incentive of
victory before them, all Governments fostered the growth of the new arm
by all the means in their power. It became a race between Allied and
enemy countries as to who first should attain the mastery of the air.
The British nation, as usual, started well behind in the race, and their
handicap would have been increased to a dangerous extent had Germany
not been obsessed by the possibilities of the air-ship as opposed to the
aeroplane. Fortunately for us the Zeppelin, as has been described in an
earlier chapter, failed to bring about the destruction anticipated by
its inventor, and so we gained breathing space for catching up the enemy
in the building and equipment of aeroplanes and the training of pilots
and observers.
War has set up its usual screens, and the writer is only permitted a
very vague and impressionistic picture of the work of the R.F.C. and
R.N.A.S. Numerical details and localities must be rigorously suppressed.
Descriptions of the work of the Flying Service must be almost as bald
as those laconic reports sent in by naval and military airmen to
head-quarters. But there is such an accomplishment as reading between
the lines.
The flying men fall naturally into two classes--pilots and observers.
The latter, of course, act as aerial gunners. The pilots have to pass
through three, and observers two, successive courses of training in
aviation. Instruction is very detailed and thorough as befits a career
which, in addition to embracing the endless problems of flight, demands
knowledge of wireless telegraphy, photography, and machine gunnery.
Many of the officers are drafted into the Royal Flying Corps from other
branches of the Service, but there are also large numbers of civilians
who take up the career. In their case they are first trained as cadets,
and, after qualifying for commissions, start their training in aviation
at one of the many schools which have now sprung up in all parts of the
country.
When the actual flying men are counted in thousands some idea may be
gained of the great organization required for the Corps--the schools
and flying grounds, the training and activities of the mechanics,
the workshops and repair shops, the storage of spare parts, the motor
transport, &c. As in other departments of the Service, women have come
forward and are doing excellent and most responsible work, especially in
the motor-transport section.
A very striking feature of the Corps is the extreme youth of the
members, many of the most daring fighters in the air being mere boys of
twenty.
The Corps has the very pick of the youth and daring and enterprise of
the country. In the days of the old army there existed certain unwritten
laws of precedence as between various branches of the Service. If such
customs still prevail it is certain that the very newest arm would take
pride of place. The flying man has recaptured some of the glamour and
romance which encircled the knight-errant of old. He breathes the very
atmosphere of dangerous adventure. Life for him is a series of thrills,
any one of which would be sufficient to last the ordinary humdrum
citizen for a lifetime. Small wonder that the flying man has captured
the interest and affection of the people, and all eyes follow these
trim, smart, desperadoes of the air in their passage through our cities.
As regards the work of the flying man the danger curve seems to be
changing. On the one hand the training is much more severe and exacting
than formerly was the case, and so carries a greater element of danger.
On the other hand on the battle-front fighting information has in great
measure taken the place of the system of men going up "on their own".
They are perhaps not so liable to meet with a numerical superiority
on the part of enemy machines, which spelt for them almost certain
destruction.
For a long time the policy of silence and secrecy which screened "the
front" from popular gaze kept us in ignorance of the achievements of our
airmen. But finally the voice of the people prevailed in their demand
for more enlightenment. Names of regiments began to be mentioned in
connection with particular successes. And in the same way the heroes of
the R.F.C. and R.N.A.S. were allowed to reap some of the laurels they
deserved.
It began to be recognized that publication of the name of an airman who
had destroyed a Zeppelin, for instance, did not constitute any vital
information to the enemy. In a recent raid upon London the names of the
two airmen, Captain G. H. Hackwill, R.F.C., and Lieutenant C. C. Banks,
R.F.C., who destroyed a Gotha, were given out in the House of Commons
and saluted with cheers. In the old days the secretist party would have
regarded this publication as a policy which led the nation in the direct
line of "losing the war".
In the annals of the Flying Service, where dare-devilry is taken as
a matter of course and hairbreadth escapes from death are part of the
daily routine, it is difficult to select adventures for special mention;
but the following episodes will give a general idea of the work of the
airman in war.
The great feat of Sub-Lieutenant R. A. J. Warneford, R.N.A.S., who
single-handed attacked and destroyed a Zeppelin, has already been
referred to in Chapter XIII. Lieutenant Warneford was the second on
the list of airmen who won the coveted Cross, the first recipient being
Second-Lieutenant Barnard Rhodes-Moorhouse, for a daring and successful
bomb-dropping raid upon Courtrai in April, 1915. As has happened in so
many cases, the award to Lieutenant Rhodes-Moorhouse was a posthumous
one, the gallant airman having been mortally wounded during the raid,
in spite of which he managed by flying low to reach his destination and
make his report.
A writer of adventure stories for boys would be hard put to it to invent
any situation more thrilling than that in which Squadron-Commander
Richard Bell Davies, D.S.O., R.N., and Flight Sub-Lieutenant Gilbert
Formby Smylie, R.N., found themselves while carrying out an air attack
upon Ferrijik junction. Smylie's machine was subjected to such heavy
fire that it was disabled, and the airman was compelled to plane down
after releasing all his bombs but one, which failed to explode. The
moment he alighted he set fire to his machine. Presently Smylie saw his
companion about to descend quite close to the burning machine. There
was infinite danger from the bomb. It was a question of seconds merely
before it must explode. So Smylie rushed over to the machine, took hasty
aim with his revolver, and exploded the bomb, just before the Commander
came within the danger zone. Meanwhile the enemy had commenced to gather
round the two airmen, whereupon Squadron-Commander Davies coolly took up
the Lieutenant on his machine and flew away with him in safety back to
their lines. Davies, who had already won the D.S.O., was given the
V.C., while his companion in this amazing adventure was granted the
Distinguished Service Cross.
The unexpectedness, to use no stronger term, of life in the R.F.C. in
war-time is well exemplified by the adventure which befell Major Rees.
The pilot of a "fighter", he saw what he took to be a party of air
machines returning from a bombing expedition. Proceeding to join them in
the character of escort, Major Rees made the unpleasant discovery that
he was just about to join a little party of ten enemy machines. But so
far from being dismayed, the plucky airman actually gave battle to the
whole ten. One he quickly drove "down and out", as the soldiers say.
Attacked by five others, he damaged two of them and dispersed the
remainder. Not content with this, he gave chase to two more, and only
broke off the engagement when he had received a wound in the thigh. Then
he flew home to make the usual laconic report.
No record of heroism in the air could be complete without mention of
Captain Ball, who has already figured in these pages. When awarded
the V.C. Captain Ball was already the holder of the following honours:
D.S.O., M.C., Cross of a Chevalier of the Legion of Honour, and the
Russian order of St. George. This heroic boy of twenty was a giant among
a company of giants. Here follows the official account which accompanied
his award:--
"Lieutenant (temporary Captain) ALBERT BALL, D.S.O., M.C., late Notts
and Derby Regiment, and R.F.C.
"For most conspicuous and consistent bravery from April 25 to May 6,
1917, during which period Captain Ball took part in twenty-six combats
in the air and destroyed eleven hostile aeroplanes, drove down two out
of control, and forced several others to land.
"In these combats Captain Ball, flying alone, on one occasion fought six
hostile machines, twice he fought five, and once four.
"While leading two other British aeroplanes he attacked an enemy
formation of eight. On each of these occasions he brought down at least
one enemy.
"Several times his aeroplane was badly damaged, once so severely that
but for the most delicate handling his machine would have collapsed,
as nearly all the control wires had been shot away. On returning with a
damaged machine, he had always to be restrained from immediately going
out on another.
"In all Captain Ball has destroyed forty-three German aeroplanes and
one balloon, and has always displayed most exceptional courage,
determination, and skill."
So great was Captain Ball's skill as a fighter in the air that for a
time he was sent back to England to train new pilots in the schools. But
the need for his services at the front was even greater, and it jumped
with his desires, for the whole tone of his letters breathes the joy
he found in the excitements of flying and fighting. He declares he
is having a "topping time", and exults in boyish fashion at a coming
presentation to Sir Douglas Haig. It is not too much to say that the
whole empire mourned when Captain Ball finally met his death in the air
near La Bassee in May, 1917.