“My preparation for combat fighting in the air was a gradual one. As I
look back upon it now, it seems that I had the rare good fortune to
experience almost every variety of danger that can beset the war pilot
before I ever fired a shot at an enemy from an aeroplane.
“This good fortune is rare, it appears to me. Many a better man than
myself has leaped into his stride and begun accumulating victories from
his very first flight over the lines. It was a brilliant start for him
and his successes brought him instant renown. But he had been living on
the cream at the start and was unused to the skim-milk of aviation. One
day the cream gave out and the first dose of skim-milk terminated his
career.
“So despite the weeks and weeks of disappointment that attended my
early fighting career, I appreciated even then the enormous benefit
that I would reap later from these experiences. I can now most solemnly
affirm that had I won my first victory during my first trips over the
lines I believe I would never have survived a dozen combats. Every
disappointment that came to me brought with it an enduring lesson that
repaid me eventually tenfold. If any one of my antagonists had been
through the same school of disappointments that had so annoyed me it is
probable that he, instead of me, would now be telling his friends back
home about his series of victories over the enemy.”
It was April 29, 1918, that he had his turn of luck. He was in
the air with Captain James Norman Hall following a course towards
Pont-à-Mousson, as that experienced flyer led the way.
“Whether or not he knew all along that a German craft was in that
region I could not tell. But when he began to change his direction and
curve up into the sun I followed close behind him knowing that there
was a good reason for this maneuver. I looked earnestly about me in
every direction.
“Yes! There was a scout coming towards us from north of Pont-à-Mousson.
It was at about our altitude. I knew it was a Hun the moment I saw
it, for it had the familiar lines of their new Pfalz. Moreover, my
confidence in James Norman Hall was such that I knew he couldn’t make
a mistake. And he was still climbing into the sun, carefully keeping
his position between its glare and the oncoming fighting plane. I clung
as closely to Hall as I could. The Hun was steadily approaching us,
unconscious of his danger, for we were full in the sun.
“With the first downward dive of Jimmy’s machine I was by his side. We
had at least a thousand feet advantage over the enemy and we were two
to one numerically. He might outdive our machines, for the Pfalz is a
famous diver, while our faster climbing Nieuports had a droll little
habit of shedding their fabric when plunged too furiously through the
air. The Boche hadn’t a chance to outfly us. His only salvation would
be in a dive towards his own lines.
“These thoughts passed through my mind in a flash and I instantly
determined upon my tactics. While Hall went in for his attack I would
keep my altitude and get a position the other side of the Pfalz, to cut
off his retreat.
“No sooner had I altered my line of flight than the German pilot saw
me leave the sun’s rays. Hall was already half-way to him when he
stuck up his nose and began furiously climbing to the upper ceiling. I
let him pass me and found myself on the other side just as Hall began
firing. I doubt if the Boche had seen Hall’s Nieuport at all.
“Surprised by discovering this new antagonist, Hall, ahead of him, the
Pfalz immediately abandoned all idea of a battle and banking around
to the right started for home, just as I had expected him to do. In a
trice I was on his tail. Down, down we sped with throttles both full
open. Hall was coming on somewhere in my rear. The Boche had no heart
for evolutions or maneuvers. He was running like a scared rabbit, as I
had run from Campbell. I was gaining upon him every instant and had my
sights trained dead upon his seat before I fired my first shot.