“As we drew nearer we saw that the seven conquerors were in fact
enemy machines. There was no doubt about it. They were Fokkers. Their
opponents, whether American, French or British, had been scattered and
had fled. The Fokkers had undoubtedly seen our approach and had very
wisely decided to keep their formation together rather than separate to
pursue their former antagonists. They were climbing to keep my squad
ever a little below them, while they decided upon their next move.
“We were seven and they were seven. It was a lovely morning with clear
visibility, and all my pilots, I knew, were keen for a fight. I looked
over the skies and discovered no reason why we shouldn’t take them on
at any terms they might require. Accordingly I set our course a little
steeper and continued straight on towards them.
“The Spad is a better climber than the Fokker. Evidently the Boche
pilots opposite us knew this fact. Suddenly the last four in their
formation left their line of flight and began to draw away in the
direction of Soissons—still climbing. The three Fokkers in front
continued towards us for another minute or two. When we were separated
by less than a quarter of a mile the three Heinies decided that they
had done enough for their country, and putting down their noses, they
began a steep dive for their lines.
“To follow them was so obvious a thing to do that I began at once to
speculate upon what this maneuver meant to them. The four rear Fokkers
were well away by now, but the moment we began to dive after the
three ahead of us they would doubtless be prompt to turn and select a
choice position behind our tails. Very well! We would bank upon this
expectation of theirs and make our plans accordingly!
“We were at about 17,000 feet altitude. The lines were almost directly
under us. Following the three retreating Fokkers at our original level,
we soon saw them disappear well back into Germany. Now for the wily
four that were probably still climbing for altitude!
“Arriving over Fismes I altered our course and pointed it towards
Soissons, and as we flew we gained an additional thousand feet. Exactly
upon the scheduled time we perceived approaching us the four Fokkers
who were now satisfied that they had us at a disadvantage and might
either attack or escape, as they desired. They were, however, at
precisely the same altitude at which we were now flying.
“Wigwagging my wings as a signal for the attack, I sheered slightly to
the north of them to cut off their retreat. They either did not see my
maneuver or else they thought we were friendly aeroplanes, for they
came on dead ahead like a flock of silly geese. At two hundred yards I
began firing.
“Not until we were within fifty yards of each other did the Huns show
any signs of breaking. I had singled out the flight leader and had him
nicely within my sights, when he suddenly piqued downwards, the rest of
his formation immediately following him. At the same instant one of my
guns—the one having a double feed—hopelessly jammed. And after a burst
of twenty shots or so from the other gun it likewise failed me! There
was no time to pull away for repairs!
“Both my guns were useless. For an instant I considered the
advisability of withdrawing while I tried to free the jam. But the
opportunity was too good to lose. The pilots behind me would be thrown
into some confusion when I signaled them to carry on without me. And
moreover the enemy pilots would quickly discover my trouble and would
realize that the flight leader was out of the fight. I made up my mind
to go through with the fracas without guns and trust to luck to see the
finish. The next instant we were ahead of the quartet and were engaged
in a furious dog-fight.
“Every man was for himself. The Huns were excellent pilots and seemed
to be experienced fighters. Time and again I darted into a good
position behind or below a tempting target, with the sole result of
compelling the Fritz to alter his course and get out of his position of
supposed danger. If he had known I was unarmed he would have had me at
his mercy. As it was I would no sooner get into a favorable position
behind him than he would double about and the next moment I found
myself compelled to look sharp to my own safety.
“In this manner the whole revolving circus went tumbling across the
heavens—always dropping lower and steadily traveling deeper into the
German lines. Two of my pilots had abandoned the scrap and turned
homewards. Engines or guns had failed them. When at last we had fought
down to 3,000 feet and were some four miles behind their lines, I
observed two flights of enemy machines coming up from the rear to
their rescue. We had none of us secured a single victory—but neither
had the Huns. Personally I began to feel a great longing for home. I
dashed out ahead of the foremost Spad and frantically wigwagging him to
attention I turned my little ’bus towards our lines. With a feeling of
great relief I saw that all four were following me and that the enemy
reënforcements were not in any position to dispute our progress.
“On the way homeward I struggled with my jammed guns—but to no result.
Despite every precaution these weapons will fail a pilot when most
needed. I had gone through with a nerve-racking scrap, piquing upon
deadly opponents with a harmless machine. My whole safety had depended
upon their not knowing it.”