"Give me the aeroplane I want," said Captain W. A. Bishop, "and I'll go
over to Berlin any night--or day--and come back too, with any luck."
It was during a discussion in the mess on the question of air reprisals
that Canada's champion airman slipped in the quiet remark; and when a
man who has won the V.C., the Military Cross and the D.S.O. with a bar,
says he could bomb the German capital it may be taken that he means
what he says. He had then brought down nearly fifty German flyers,
besides a few balloons.
Born at Owen Sound, Ontario, in 1894, a son of the registrar of Grey
County, this stripling received a commission in the Canadian Cavalry in
March, 1915, and went to France with a cavalry unit. He was in the
trenches in the days when our Cavalry Brigade held a section of the line
as infantry. Later, after only one experience of fighting Germans from
horseback, he decided that he wanted more excitement and joined the
increasing host of airmen.
His headquarters in France as a flying man were until recently in the
cosiest of aerodromes, cuddled close up against a small bunch of cool
trees, which looked innocent enough from the air. An ancient farm is in
the vicinity and the title of the young airman's hut was "The Abode of
Love." It is a fitting answer to the Hymn of Hate.
Commanding this squadron of airmen, he brought it to perfection, and
none disputed that he was a fitting successor to Captain Ball, the
famous English V.C. hero, who was the leader until his death. Every man
of the squadron has brought down at least ten Germans and the cheerful
group is reputed to have the greatest percentage of flying nerve on the
western front.
His best and most daring work, however, has been done when he has been
"solo" flying. It is true that he attributes most of his success to
"luck," but his comrades know that more than luck is needed to bring an
airman safely out of some of the awkward situations in which he has been
placed. On the 24th April, 1917, he was climbing slowly against the wind
a few miles east of Monchy when he saw an enemy two-seater busily making
observations of the Allied line and sending wireless messages to the
German headquarters in the rear. He dived at the big machine, firing in
bursts from his Lewis gun as he went. But his gun jammed and he was
compelled to wheel round, tinkering with the weapon as he flew. In a few
moments he had remedied the trouble and banged fifteen more shots at the
enemy; but again his gun jammed, and before he could clear it the big
German had escaped.
When he got the gun into working order again he flew eastward towards
Vitry, hawking the air lanes for other opponents. Before long he
observed another two-seater, also on observation work. This time he
tried his gun at long range, then rushed at the enemy, firing in bursts
as he charged.
The German machine wriggled, flying first one way then another, with the
Canadian hanging on at its tail and spouting gusts of bullets at it in
short intervals. Hit at last in the fusilage, the German made a dive for
earth. Swift on the track of the two-seater came the captain, firing all
the way; and when the German machine finally landed in a meadow he
finished the remainder of his ammunition drum into it as it lay on the
ground. Neither pilot nor observer climbed out. Both had been killed as
they sat in the 'bus.
Ten minutes later, after he had recharged his gun, Bishop climbed into
the clouds to continue his cruise of the front line. As he rose he saw,
away ahead, a British Nieuport being attacked by three Albatross scouts.
He flew to his compatriot's assistance, and, coming up from behind,
emptied his gun into one of the enemy. The German collapsed and went
down like a stone. The Nieuport by this time had started in pursuit of
one of the other Albatrosses, which was trying to escape, so Bishop
tackled the third. A few buzzing, manoeuvring circles, a few bursts
from the deadly little gun--and the German was diving steeply to earth.
Captain Bishop slid down in his smoking wake and saw him crash, a heap
of broken spars and flames.
There is no trick of aircraft that this young Canadian does not know,
though he is not a showy flyer. The number of his exploits is endless,
and as his squadron moved from one part of the line to another he
constantly found new pastures for adventure, new opponents to defeat,
more Germans to kill. He has fought German airmen high over the waves of
advancing battalions and has heard, as a faint whisper coming up to him,
the cheers of his fellow countrymen when he shot down his enemies at
their feet. He has chased a German Staff automobile along a dusty road
and opened fire on it so that the driver lost his nerve and ditched the
car, and the occupants threw their massive dignity to the winds and
scrambled for shelter into a dug-out.
Not very long ago, when he was roaming alone, twelve thousand feet high,
he heard the stutter of machine-guns from out the clouds, and drove in
their direction to find his own juvenile major fighting single-handed
against five formidable German battle machines. Down swooped the captain
on the tail of the nearest enemy, riddled the pilot and observer with
bullets, fought another for a few minutes and sent him also to the
ground, dived down, reloading his gun as he went, then up again and blew
a third into eternity with a terrific burst of fire; and then, joyfully
and with calm happiness, escorted his major home in a merry, zig-zag
course which told the watchers of his aerodrome that all was well with
the world.
The incident which brought him his Victoria Cross occurred one June day
in 1917, when he was working, as usual, independently. He _zoomed_
across No Man's Land, over the German front and support trenches,
driving on to where he thought was game worth seeking. The game in this
instance was an aerodrome. But as he circled above the enemy hangars at
fifteen thousand feet the place seemed to have a strangely deserted
appearance. Down he came to within three hundred feet of the hangars to
investigate; and the only occupant of the aerodrome proved to be a very
nervous gunner who feebly turned a machine-gun on him. The nervous
gunner was sent scuttering to cover by a few bursts of fire. Then the
disappointed captain turned the nose of his machine upwards, wondering
whether he would find any hostile craft waiting for him above the
clouds. Through the thin clouds he mounted into the clear spaces above.
No enemy was to be seen, nothing but the blue void; and the warm, soft
atmosphere was very pleasant that day. The captain was out for
adventure. He flew on deeper into the German lines.
Twelve miles from the German front line he looked over the side of his
'plane and saw, basking in the pleasant sunshine, the very thing he had
come to smash. It was another German aerodrome, with a number of
machines lined up in front of the sheds, ready for a journey.
Bishop counted the machines--one, two, three, four, five, six, seven.
Seven new, beautiful bombers all in a row, brass burnished, oiled, a few
of the engines running, all ready for a trip into Allied territory--or
perhaps to England! It was a very tidy aerodrome and the seven machines
on the lawn looked very trim. The captain descended to have a closer
look--and the Germans spotted him and raised the alarm; guns began to
splash white puffs of shrapnel around him.
Down dived this youngster through the barrage till he was within fifty
feet of the ground and then his machine-gun began to spray the German
machines and the lawn with bullets. A mechanic, who was trying to start
one of the aeroplanes, fell beside the propeller, riddled with shot. Up
raced the Canadian then, rising in sharp spirals as fast as his machine
could travel. Up after him went a German, throbbing with a desire for
revenge. But Bishop was expecting this very thing; and as the German
reached sixty feet from the ground he swooped down and around suddenly
and fired into the chasing machine at close range. The German 'plane
crashed to earth, carrying a dead pilot with it.
Turning swiftly, the captain saw a second Albatross rising. He closed
with this one till about 150 yards separated them; then, getting the
German full on his sights, he sent a blast of thirty rounds into him.
Away went the Albatross, side-slipping into a tree, where it hung a
wretched, broken thing.
A third Albatross came up to the combat, while the invader swung over
the aerodrome sheds in the midst of a storm of shrapnel from the enemy
guns. Bishop cleared the sheds and swept upward a thousand feet, met his
third enemy as he mounted and emptied the remainder of his drum of
ammunition at him. The Albatross swerved, slid, fluttered and fell to
earth within three hundred yards of the spot from which it had mounted
but a few moments before.
The invader quickly inserted a new drum and swung round again to where a
fourth machine was humming towards him. He took no chances with this
antagonist, but opened fire at a fair range as it headed at him.
Already a fifth German was coming out of the blue, trying to sandwich
him between it and its fellow. He had no time to waste on the fifth. He
kept hammering at the fourth till it also left the fight and planed
down to the green sward below, out of control and little better than a
wreck.
He faced the fifth--had him, indeed, in a favourable position for ending
his career also--when he realized that he had finished his ammunition.
That fact saved the life of the German airman. Captain Bishop
regretfully raised his empty drum and waved a farewell to this, his
latest adversary, and started on his hundred-mile race for home.
The solitary German was soon left behind; but from another aerodrome
came four German scouts who had been sent to the rescue of their friends
of the now untidy aerodrome. They had seen the latter part of the
battle. Though they were about a thousand feet above him they did not
attack, but fell behind after following for about a mile.
With his machine slashed almost to ribbons, Bishop made a safe landing
near the bunch of green trees beside the ancient farm. That night there
was great rejoicing at the "Abode of Love," for the news spread
quickly and men came from neighbouring parts of the line to offer
congratulations.
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