lice over there?" "Garn, we ain't lousy." "I mean a boot-lice."
Love to all.
Ever your loving son,
HAROLD.
P.S.--Meates did get to Hoboken and came down in Holland on return
journey.
Tell Dad to let me know when he is coming, as near as possible, so that
perhaps I can arrange to meet him. The boat does not cross here every
day, but he can also come _via_ Calais. Think I can fix up a room over
the road.
XXIV.
_To his Sister._
No. 1 Squadron, R.N.A.S., B.E.F.
1st April, 1915.
DEAR OLD GIRL,
I really feel I owe you a few lines, as you have honoured me with
several epistles lately, which I fear have remained unanswered.
Did my last letter to Mother arrive very sticky? It left here sopping
wet, and thereby hangs a tale. I hadn't time to re-write it, as the mail
was just going out. I unfortunately had the letter on me and, in
conjunction with myself, it got rather a bad ducking.
I was sent up with an observer this morning in a Vickers gun bus (a
pusher machine), and all went well until coming home, when my engine
petered out, when I was only 400 feet over the town. I hadn't much
choice of landing grounds, and preferred to come down in one of the
docks to landing on a house-top or in a maze of telegraph wires. I
pancaked [flattened out] as much as possible, but hit the water with a
bit of a biff. Things then began to happen pretty suddenly. I remember
seeing my observer shot out into the water about twenty yards ahead, and
the next thing I knew was that I was under the water and still in the
machine. I was scared "some," and the water tasted beastly salt, but I
pulled myself together, and says I to myself, ses I, "Harold, my boy, if
you don't keep your head and get out of this damn quick, you'll drown
for a cert like a rat in a trap." So I carefully thought out just where
the top plane would be, and disentangled myself from things in general.
It took a long time though, and I was relieved "some" when I bobbed up
to the surface. I was rather surprised at keeping afloat very easily, as
I had heaps of clothes on.
[Illustration:
ONE VICKERS FIGHTING BIPLANE PHOTOGRAPHED FROM ANOTHER]
[Illustration:
A VICKERS FIGHTING BIPLANE
_It was on a machine of this type that Lieut. Rosher plunged into the
Docks at Dunkirk_]
On arrival at the surface, I found my observer hanging on to the
machine, and it didn't take me long to get a hold on it myself. We were
only about 40 yards from the side of the dock, but didn't venture to
swim, as the sides were twenty feet high, and the ladders only just
reached to the water. There were no boats at all there, but we soon had
a hundred or so dock hands around the side, all of whom seemed to talk
very volubly, but were very incompetent. The water was icy cold and we
were very cold before coming into it. With some difficulty I managed to
undo a button or so and blow out my Gieves waistcoat, but it wasn't
really necessary as I was keeping afloat well. After a bit some life
belts were thrown out, and two men came out on a little raft. I swam to
a life belt and my observer (Collen) [Lieut. A. R. Collen, R.M.A.] got
on the raft. We both had to be hauled up out of the dock with ropes, and
by the time we got on _terra firma_, it was as much as we could do to
stand up. We were in the water about 20 minutes, and I don't think I
have ever been so cold before.
We walked rapidly off to the aerodrome, half a mile away, and there had
a stiff rum and milk, and stripped in front of a fire and had a good rub
down. We had lunch wrapped up in towels and were then rigged out in blue
jerseys and blue serge trousers. This afternoon we have both had a hot
bath and are feeling none the worse. The C.O. was very amused about the
whole proceeding and laughed heartily at us. The machine is but very
little damaged, but will take some salving. My pocket book, cheque book,
etc., are all in a nasty sticky state. Thank goodness! I hadn't my gold
watch. My clothes (including new fur coat) are, I am afraid, all ruined.
This afternoon Garros [Lieut. Roland Garros] shot down a Taube from his
Morane. The poor wretches were burnt to death. Two of our people raided
Zeebrugge and Hoboken again this morning.
Love to all.
Ever your loving brother,
HAROLD.
XXV.
_To his Father._
No. 1, Naval Aeroplane Squadron, B.E.F.,
12th April, 1915.
DEAR DAD,
Many thanks for letter received yesterday telling of your safe return. I
think you must have omitted enclosure. By the way, the papers turned up
the day after you left.
Have been very busy the last two days with our new busses. None have
been flown yet, but we are prepared for fireworks. Three men have been
killed on them in Paris in the last month. Babington and Sippe are both
back. S---- G---- turned base over apex on landing his tabloid [fast
scouting machine].
15th April, 1915.
Sad to relate, I have decided to part with old 873. She was really
getting too ancient, and has now been packed up and is going to be sent
home for School work; too bad, isn't it? It would have been a far better
ending had I crashed her. I have written up her raids inside the
fuselage--(1) Friedrichshafen, (2) Zeebrugge, (3) Ostend, (4) Ostend
again, and (5) Hoboken--some record! I asked permission to fly her home,
but the C.O. didn't bite. I was awfully disappointed.
My new bus is a Morane parasol, 80 h.p. Le Rhone. They are supposed to
climb like fire and do over 80 miles per hour, but are very touchy on
the elevator and rather trying to fly. I have not yet been up in her.
Garros brought another machine down to-day, and a Frenchman managed to
fly back to our own lines after having one foot smashed by shrapnel over
Ostend.
17th April, 1915.
Very little news of interest to tell you, but here goes for what there
is. My Morane parasol was ready to-day and Babington tested it. If the
weather is fine to-morrow, I shall float forth on it into the "ethereal
blue." Not having flown a monoplane before, I am all of a "doo-da."
Yesterday I went out to see the War at N----. Though a fine day, the
Bosches were not bombarding, so we went around in peace, and I brought
back a few shell fragments with me which you may find interesting. For
the rest, our miserable lives continue much as before. The Frenchmen
here have lost a machine to-day, but the R.F.C. brought down an Aviatik
at Wipers, so that makes us all square.
19th April, 1915.
I have flown my Morane twice. It is a most comic affair, but I think I
shall like it when I get more used to it. It is very light on the
controls, especially the elevator, and gets off the ground before you
can say "squeak." Garros was missing last night, and there has since
been a rumour that he is a prisoner of war.[9] This is, of course, a
nasty knock for us.
A Frenchman had rather a bad accident here this morning. He ran over the
bank at the top end of the aerodrome in a Voisin and turned a complete
somersault. The machine immediately caught fire. The passenger got off
all right, but the pilot was badly burnt. Five minutes after they got
him out one of his bombs went off with a terrific bang. The machine was
entirely wrecked.
24th April, 1915.
Just a few lines to let you know I am still in the land of the living. I
see in the papers that Colonel Rosher (Dorsets) has been killed in the
Persian Gulf. The Dorsets seem to have had a pretty rough time.
Spenser Grey [Squadron Commander Spenser D. A. Grey, D.S.O., R.N.] and
Marsden [Flt. Lieut. M. S. Marsden, R.N.] paid a visit to Ostend to-day
with bombs, and Sippe was turned upside down on the ground in a Morane
by a gust of wind this afternoon. He was unhurt, but the machine was
badly damaged.
27th April, 1915.
Many thanks for the torches, papers, etc. There is nothing much doing
here at the moment. According to the papers, the Germans are making
another dash for this place. There is certainly a hell of a row going
on. We hear the guns day and night.
29th April, 1915.
Not a line from anyone for quite three days! Whatever has become of you
all? There has been some excitement here to-day. To begin with, three
enemy aircraft came over here before breakfast, and then another between
eleven and twelve o'clock. It was most comic to see our infuriated
machines dashing off into the atmosphere in pursuit, with not an earthly
chance of catching them. Soon after eleven o'clock there was a big
explosion in the town and we all did a great leap into the air. From
then, for nearly three hours, we were shelled with the greatest
regularity at five minute intervals. We all climbed on to the roof of
one of our sheds and watched through glasses the explosions, occurring
to the second almost; big stuff it was too, 12" I should say, and fired
from the back of Nieuport, quite 20 miles away. The total bag was 40
killed and 60 wounded. They put about 20 shells into the town, one only
500 yards from the Sophie.[10] To give you an idea of the damage they
do, one shell wrecked two houses entirely and half of both houses on
either side. Windows were broken in the streets all round--"some" mess,
I can tell you.
Love to all,
Ever your loving son,
HAROLD.
[Illustration:
THE OVERTURNED MORANE
_To which reference is made in the accompanying note. Lieut. Rosher
was under the machine when the photograph was taken_]
[Illustration:
A SNAPSHOT OF LIEUT. ROSHER
_Taken about the period of this accident_]
NOTE.
_About the end of April Lieut. Rosher crashed on his Morane at Dunkirk.
The machine overturned and was completely smashed, but he came out
uninjured._
[9] Lieutenant-aviator Roland Garros (French) was forced to land near
Ingelmunster, in West Flanders, on the evening of the 18th April, and
was taken prisoner.
[10] The villa where he was billeted.
V
TAKING A NEW MACHINE TO FRANCE
NOTE.
_In the second week of May, 1915, Harold Rosher arrived home
unexpectedly with orders to fly a new machine, a B.E. 2 C, from Hendon
to Dunkirk. He tried the machine, but was not satisfied with the engine.
On the 12th May, however, he telephoned to his father to come to the
aerodrome to lunch with him, as he intended, if possible, to make a
start immediately after lunch. The latter accordingly joined him, and
about 3 p.m. Harold got into the machine and his father bade him
farewell. As he rose, one could hear the engine missing, and at about
1000 feet, realizing that there was clearly something wrong, Harold
turned back to the aerodrome. Mechanics from the makers were sent for
and they spent a day or two on the engine. On the 16th as he was told
nothing more could be done to it, he decided to move off. He got across
to Dunkirk, and his experiences_ en route _are described in the
following letters_.
XXVI.
_To his Mother._
The Grand Hotel, Folkestone.
17th May, 1915.
DEAREST MUM,
I was up betimes yesterday morning, but did not get away from Hendon
until about 7.0 a.m. I could only secure half a dozen biscuits and a cup
of tea before leaving. It was very thick, and clouds at 4,000 feet. I
went _via_ Harrow, Staines, and Redhill. Once at this last place, all
you have to do is to follow the railway line, which runs straight as a
die to Ashford. My engine was most alarming, making all sorts of weird
noises, and I was kept very busy the whole way spotting the field I
should land in if it petered out.
A pretty strong head wind made the going slow, and just after Redhill I
ran into rain. I stuck it for half an hour, getting very wet and seeing
hardly anything. Then the engine showed serious signs of giving up the
ghost. What finally made me decide to come down was that I couldn't get
any pressure in my petrol tank. I went on a bit and then chose a
good-looking field with a road on one side and some houses at one
corner. Here I landed in great style.
On getting down, the field was not quite so good as it looked from
above, being on a slope and with a somewhat uneven surface. The usual
crowd collected, despite the rain, and I soon had the machine covered up
with tarpaulins and a territorial guard installed. I had breakfast with
a Mr. and Mrs. R---- close by, and afterwards went into Headcorn, a mile
away, and telephoned to the Admiralty, etc. I had lunch with the R----s
and five daughters (swish, I was all of a doo-da!), and then spent the
whole of the afternoon trying to get my beastly engine to go. It's an
awful dud.
I eventually took the air before an admiring crowd at about 5.0 p.m.,
and made for Folkestone soon after. It was a wretched evening, and
though it had stopped raining, I had to come down to under 2,000 feet to
avoid clouds. I caught a glimpse of Wye when passing Ashford. Made a
very stunt landing here and met a R.F.C. officer I know. We came
straight on to the Grand, and after a drink at the Metropole, I had a
bath, then dinner and a smoke, and went to bed. To-day it is blowing a
gale and raining cats and dogs. Am proceeding to Dover first opportunity.
Love to all.
Ever your loving son,
HAROLD.
XXVII.
_To his Father._
No. 1 Wing, R.N.A.S., B.E.F.
19th May, 1915.
DEAR DAD,
I have at last arrived safely at my destination. Yesterday was a rotten
day, but I motored to Dover in the afternoon and from there into St.
Margaret's Bay, where I saw the holes made by the Zepp bombs. They were
most disappointing, being very small, one foot by six inches deep. They
were incendiary and not explosive.
I took the air from Folkestone this afternoon at 3.15 and circled round
for 15 minutes, getting to only 2,000 feet. At that I pushed off across
the Channel. My engine developed a most appalling vibration, and I
hardly hoped to reach the other side. I arrived at Calais at 1,500 feet,
and struggled on up the coast here.
Things are much as usual. I am taking an 80 Avro out to an advanced base
to-morrow morning, the B.E., of course, being useless. Maude and Andreae
are at Whale Island, the Commander in town, and Sippe and Wilson [J. P.
Wilson, D.S.O., Squadron Comdr., R.N.] in Paris. We are all at the
aerodrome and most uncomfy--Baillie [Lieut. J. E. Innes Baillie, R.M.A.]
on leave, and Courtney going on sick leave to-morrow. Please send the
gramophone at once.
21st May, 1915.
Here I am, going strong at our advanced base, only five miles behind the
firing line. I was up yesterday morning at four, but did not get away in
the Avro until five, as it was very misty. I arrived here in due course.
We have a ripping little villa at ----. It is a most interesting place;
the King of the Belgians lives here. We were shelled the night before
last, and a Taube came over this morning and dropped a bomb at the end
of the aerodrome. Will write more later.
22nd May, 1915.
Nothing very much in the way of news. A Taube came right over the
aerodrome this morning at about 7,000 feet. I at once went after it in
the Avro, but got nowhere near. First thing this morning I saw a Maurice
coming down vertically and spinning hard--lost sight of it behind the
housetops--pilot and passenger badly hurt--was surprised to hear they
were alive. It was a horrid sight. Anxiously awaiting arrival of
gramophone.
23rd May, 1915.
Turned out soon after five this morning and went up for an hour and a
half waiting for Taubes. I chased several allied machines, but found
nothing hostile. Had not been down twenty minutes before one came out.
Later on in the morning two came right over the aerodrome. I went up in
pursuit, but got nowhere near them. Things are pretty lively on the
whole. Besides the regular artillery, there is an intermittent cannonade
of anti-aircraft guns, either from us at the Taubes or from the Huns at
us. The sky becomes absolutely dotted with little puffs of shrapnel,
which are visible for half an hour at least.
This evening I went into the town. It's full of life, a band playing and
all the shops open.
Babington flew my B.E. yesterday,[11] and the beastly thing nearly
caught fire. We are getting a new engine for it from Paris.
Love to all.
Ever your loving son,
HAROLD.
[11] This was the machine he flew from Hendon to Dunkirk.
VI
WITH THE B.E.F. AGAIN
XXVIII.
_To his Mother._
No. 1 Wing, R.N.A.S.,
B. Squadron, B.E.F.
29th May, 1915.
DEAREST MUM,
Have not written for ages, but you must excuse, as we have been so busy.
This is really my first opportunity. All sorts of things have been
happening. To begin with, the Commander announced the other night that
the whole wing is going to be recalled within the next two months, so I
shall anyhow be home again before long--expect to go into seaplanes.
We had a Zep scare the other night, though it was blowing half a gale.
We were at the aerodrome all night, and went up at 3.0 a.m. for an hour
and a half--eventually got to bed at 6.0 a.m. and slept until 10 o'clock.
We have been having some lovely weather lately, except the last few
days, which have been bad. All the same we keep flying in any weather,
sometimes two and three trips a day.
I went out to the War the other afternoon to see one of our
anti-aircraft guns. We fired into the German trenches, and about two
minutes later they replied with zest. Four or five shells whizzed over
and burst about 30 yards behind us in a field. I picked up some
fragments almost too hot to hold. We were within 1000 yards of the Huns
and could see their and our own trenches rippingly through glasses.
Have given up chasing Taubes. One can never get them. We have
commandeered an old bathing hut for our office at the aerodrome, and
have rigged up an awning outside, and bought deck chairs. You should see
us all lying back in the sun with field glasses glued to our eyes,
watching the various aeroplanes, with shrapnel bursting all round them.
Our shooting is awfully bad on the whole.
Our villa is first-rate, and oh! the gramophone has arrived safe and
sound. Willing hands helped to unpack it, and we got it going in record
time. It is immensely appreciated. We had some Belgian officers to
dinner the other night, and last night we visited them. They are awfully
good fellows and we got on famously. Last night was great fun. The
Belgian C---- had unfortunately swallowed two submarines by mistake, and
the only English he knew was, "To your eyes." This we drank, also
"England toujours" and "Vive les Belges." English and French songs were
sung, etc., etc. There was a huge uproar. The Belgian C---- would insist
on wearing B----'s hat, and bestowed many kisses on the badge before
parting with it.
I do wish my camera would arrive, as I am missing some great
opportunities.
Love to all.
Ever your loving son,
HAROLD.
XXIX.
_To his Sister._
No. 1 Wing, R.N.A.S.,
B. Squadron, B.E.F.
30th May, 1915.
DEAR OLD GIRL,
Just a line or so, which I fear will be late, to wish you many happy
returns. I suppose I shall have to forget these occasions very shortly,
or at least to pretend to. Am enclosing a pound note for you to get
yourself some oddments, as there is nothing to be had out here. I went
into Dunkirk for lunch to-day--every one was very cheery. I had a
wonderful view of part of the front this evening, every trench and shell
hole standing out with extraordinary clearness. Am hoping to be home
again before long.
Very best love.
Ever your loving brother,
HAROLD.
XXX.
_To his Father._
No. 1 Wing, R.N.A.S.,
B. Squadron, B.E.F.
1st June, 1915.
DEAR DAD,
Have had quite a number of thrills since I wrote last. Yesterday
afternoon I reached a height of 10,400 feet on my Avro on a
reconnaissance, which is my height record so far--some vol plané
descending.
In the evening we had a 'phone message, "Stand by to attack Zeppelin,"
and on looking out, there it was as large as life a few miles out to sea
and very high. We rushed up to the aerodrome and got off by 8.40 p.m. I
went straight out to sea after it and got to 6000 feet in 15 minutes,
but was never within ten miles of the thing. I wasn't overtaking it at
all, but on the contrary it was gaining on me, and after half an hour I
lost sight of it. The sun, of course, was right down by now and I
steered home by various lights on shore, for the coast was quite
invisible. Had some difficulty in picking out the aerodrome, although
huge petrol flares were out, but made quite a good landing. I came in
very flat but never saw the ground at all. I touched it when I thought I
was still 50 feet up, and also caught the top of the hedge coming into
the aerodrome--it was most deceptive. G----, you will remember, was
killed at Hendon through not flattening out soon enough.
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.
[Illustration:
A ZEPPELIN AIRSHIP BEING USED FOR TRAINING _PERSONNEL_ AT THE
JOHANNISTHAL AERODROME, NEAR BERLIN]
[Illustration:
A ZEPPELIN IN THE DOUBLE SHED AT JOHANNISTHAL, WITH THE SMALLER
PARSEVAL SHED NEXT DOOR]
[Illustration:
A TAUBE-TYPE GERMAN MONOPLANE]
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.