The railway at Courtrai was a very important part of the German lines
of communication; but it was not out of reach of the Allied airmen.
Orders were sent out that the line at this place was to be destroyed
and W. B. R. Moorhouse was chosen to do the work.
His machine was a biplane and he was to go alone so as to be able to
carry as much ammunition as possible. The risks did not trouble him,
for he was of the type of airman that asks for risk as a kind of spice
to the adventure.
Off he flew, and before long he came within sight of the junction at
Courtrai. After a while, he switched off his engine and descended to
a height of about 250 feet above the ground. By this time he had been
sighted by the German gunners and riflemen, and at this low altitude he
made an easy mark.
Carefully guiding his machine to a position above the railway points,
he let fall a large bomb. It hit the mark at which he aimed and he knew
that he had done enough damage to delay the German movements for some
time. Then he began to think about his return.
He turned the nose of his machine skywards and began to climb. Up, up
he went, while the bullets whistled and the shells burst around him.
But one of the bullets found its mark. He was struck in the thigh and
it was not long before he knew that his wound would cost him his life.
But he had his report to make and he pulled himself together for the
last effort.
It was hard to go on that lonely journey. Blood was flowing from his
wound, and twice he felt everything turn black and cold sweats break
out upon him. But he stuck gamely to his task and managed somehow to
keep the control of his craft.
The distance back to his own lines was about forty miles, and in spite
of his wound he landed easily and without mishap. Then he made his
report to those who had sent him out, and only just in time; for it
was necessary to carry him off to the hospital, where he died after a
short time. The Cross was afterwards awarded to him for this feat of
endurance and courage.