A Restless Seeker After Excitement, the War Filled the Bill for
Lieutenant Roberts
Few young men enlisted for the war more frankly in the spirit of
adventure than did Lieutenant E. M. Roberts, an American boy, born
in Duluth, and seemingly born with the unrest of the winds of the
Northwest in his blood. When he was but ten years old he ran away from
home in obedience to the restless longing to fare for himself, go
whither he listed, and taste the ruggedness of nature in experience. He
tried lumbering in the Northwest. He crossed the border into Canada and
successively turned his hand to many things—mining, automobile repair,
railroad construction, cow-punching, sheep-raising, etc.—getting a
liberal education in the “University of Hard Knocks,” as he expressed
it, but never finding just the excitement he vaguely yearned for.
He was in Calgary in October, 1914, and by chance learned from a
newspaper in which he had wrapped a purchase, that there was war doing
in Europe. It struck him that the thing sought, the desired excitement,
was now ready to hand. He met an old friend and talked the news with
him. The friend told him that there had been a call that morning for
men for service in Europe. “Let’s join!” Both were of the same mind;
both were ready for adventure. Next morning he enlisted as a member
of the 10th Canadian Infantry Battalion. But the officer in charge
of the barracks knew Roberts, and recalling that he was familiar with
mechanics, transferred him to a mechanical transport section, not at
all to his liking, mechanics being but a tame affair.
In time he went with the battalion to France as driver of a lorry. He
got a dose of gas at Ypres and was sent back to England for hospital
treatment. On recovery he was returned to France as Section Sergeant,
his duty being to scout the roads ahead on a motor cycle. He found
that he was getting very little out of the war but hard work, plodding
knee deep in mud much of the time while up there the flyers were
having a jolly, enviable time. Ambition to get into the Royal Flying
Corps seized him and never let go of him, but it was long before the
opportunity to join came to him. Much experience of many kinds came
his way, despatch riding among the rest, before the happy day when he
was attached to an air squadron as gunner on probation, the getting of
which position was in itself an adventure, as is duly set forth in _A
Flying Fighter_, the intensely interesting story of his career told by
Roberts himself.
Though on the way he was yet far from his goal. He had first to go
into the trenches to learn what infantrymen had to go through. He got
a thorough lesson, which included prowls in No Man’s Land, charging
enemy trenches and plunging in to prod with the bayonet and fling hand
grenades and much like matter rather adapted, one would imagine, to
disqualify an aspirant for service in the air, for rising above ground.
But he arrived in due time at the dignity of an accepted aviator, and
made his first flight. Then came the excitement of shooting down his
first Hun, but we pass that and many other arresting incidents and
exploits of his apprenticeship to come to his account of an exceptional
sort of encounter with hostile planes that has in it all the elements
of dramatic surprise.
He was assigned to pilot duty with a scout and fighting squadron doing
service in France, and his first turn of service consisted of patrol
duty for three days running. It was an uneventful start, nothing
occurring in the three days. On the fourth day he went up again on
patrol to 20,000 feet. He was looking for Huns up there but found none.
As it was very cold he decided to go down a way, and shut off power. He
says:
“At the level of 18,000 feet, I found myself sweeping along a very
large peak of cloud. Intending to spoil its pretty formation I dived
into it, and coming out on the other side, found myself along side of
a Hun plane of the Albatross type. [Roberts was in a Spad.] I had no
intimation at all that a Hun was present, and I guess he was in the
same position.
“THE HUN WAVED AT ME AND I WAVED AT HIM”
“I suppose he was as much surprised as I was when he saw me emerging
from the cloud. Neither of us could shoot at the other for the reason
that the guns of the machines we were flying were fixed to the machine
so that the machine itself has to be pointed.
“We were so close together that this could not be done without our
ramming one another, which both of us had to avoid if we did not wish
to crash to the earth together.
“The Hun waved at me and I waved at him.
“We found ourselves in a very peculiar situation. I was so close to him
that I could see with the naked eye every detail of his machine. His
face also I could see quite clearly, even to the wrinkles around his
mouth.
“There was something odd in our position. I had to smile at the thought
that we were so close together and yet dared not harm one another. The
Hun also smiled. Then I reached down to feel the handle on my pressure
reservoir to make sure that it was in its proper place, for I knew that
one of us would soon have to make a break.
“I had never before met a Hun at such close quarters in the air and
though we flew parallel to one another for only a few minutes, the time
seemed like a week. I remembered some of the tactics told me by some of
the older and best fighters in the corps, and was wondering how I could
employ them. Finally a thought occurred to me. Two machines flying at
the same height are not necessarily on exactly the same level, as they
keep going up and down for about 20 feet.
“I was flying between the Hun and his own lines and I had fuel for
another hour and a quarter anyway. I wanted to make sure of this bird,
but decided to play a waiting game. We continued our flight side by
side.
“After a while, however, much sooner than I expected, the Hun began
to get restless and started to maneuver for position; like myself he
was utilizing the veriest fraction of every little opportunity in his
endeavor to out-maneuver the antagonist. Finally, the Hun thought he
had gotten the lead.
“I noticed that he was trying to side-slip, go down a little, evidently
for the purpose of shooting me from underneath, but not far enough for
me to get a dive on him. I was not quite sure as yet that such was
really his intention, but the man was quick. Before I knew what had
happened he had managed to put five shots into my machine, but all of
them missed me.