CHAPTER VII

THE ROYAL NAVAL AIR SERVICE IN 1914

When the war broke out the Naval Wing of the Royal Flying Corps had

already been separated from the Military Wing, and had become the Royal

Naval Air Service. Captain Murray Sueter was Director of the Air

Department, and Captain G. M. Paine was Commandant of the Central Flying

School. Six officers, all pioneers of the air, held the rank of wing

commander, and nineteen held the rank of squadron commander. There were

twelve flight commanders, and, with the addition of some few who joined

on the 5th and 6th of August, there were ninety-one flight lieutenants,

flight sub-lieutenants, and warrant officers. The number of petty

officers and men was approximately seven hundred. Some of the officers

and men had been appointed for special duties in connexion with gunnery,

torpedo work, navigation, wireless telegraphy, and engineering. The

duties which fell to the Royal Naval Air Service were naturally more

various and more complicated than those which fell to the Royal Flying

Corps. The Naval Air Service had to fly seaplanes and airships, as well

as aeroplanes. They had made more progress than the Military Wing in

fitting wireless telegraphy and in arming aircraft. They had in their

possession, when war broke out, thirty-nine aeroplanes and fifty-two

seaplanes, of which about half were ready for immediate use. They had

also seven airships, of which one, the little Willows airship, may be

left out of the reckoning, but of the others, the _Parseval_,

_Astra-Torres_, and _Beta_ did good work in the war. Some of the

aeroplanes and most of the seaplanes were fitted with more powerful

engines than any that were used by the Royal Flying Corps. Engines of

two hundred horse-power were being installed in Short, Wight, and

Sopwith seaplanes, with a view not chiefly to speed but to the carrying

of torpedoes. These machines were not successful at first, but

experiment was active. Two aeroplanes and one airship had been fitted

with machine-guns; petrol incendiary bombs had been tried with success;

and gear for the release of bombs was being gradually improved. More

important still, wireless telegraphy plants had been set up at the

various seaplane stations on the coast, and sixteen seaplanes, operating

in connexion with these stations, had been fitted with transmitting

apparatus.

These preparations, when they are looked back on across the years of

war, may seem tentative and small, but the idea which dominated them is

clear enough. Whether war would come soon was doubtful; what was certain

was that war, if it did come, would come from the nation which for many

long years had boasted of war, preached war, and intended war. The main

concern of the Naval Air Service, in co-operation with the navy, was the

defence of the East Coast from attack, whether by sea or by air, and the

safeguarding of the Channel for the passage of an expeditionary force to

the coast of Belgium or France. Other uses for a naval air force were a

matter of time and experiment. There was at first no general scheme,

prepared in detail, and ready to be put into action, for the offensive

employment of naval aircraft, so that the work of the service tended to

relapse into defence. Very little had been done to provide for the

co-operation of aircraft with the fleet at sea. The _Mayfly_ mishap had

left us unsupplied with airships of the necessary power and range for

naval reconnaissance, nor were the means at hand to enable seaplanes to

do scouting work for the fleet. In December 1912 a design for a

specially constructed seaplane-carrying ship had been submitted by the

Air Department after consultation with Messrs. Beardmore of Dalmuir, but

when the war came no such ship was in existence. The light cruiser

H.M.S. _Hermes_ had been adapted for seaplane carrying and had operated

with the fleet during the naval manoeuvres of July 1913, but this was no

more than a makeshift. The _Hermes_ was refitted and re-commissioned in

October 1914 to carry three seaplanes, and at the end of that month was

sunk by a torpedo from an enemy submarine on her passage from Dunkirk to

Dover.

War is a wonderful stimulant; and many things were done at high

pressure, in the early days of August, to increase the resources, in men

and material, of the Naval Air Service. The reserve was called up; in

addition a certain number of officers were entered direct from civilian

life, and were put to school, at Upavon or Eastchurch, to learn their

new duties. Thousands of young men were eager to enter the service as

pilots, but the training accommodation was wholly inadequate. The

Bristol School at Brooklands, the Grahame-White School at Hendon, and

the Eastbourne Aviation School were pressed into the service; in

addition to these the naval air station at Calshot undertook to make

seaplane pilots of some of those who had taken their flying certificates

elsewhere. As was to be expected, training under these conditions proved

difficult. All efficient machines were wanted for the war, so that

machines which had been condemned for use on active service were

sometimes employed in training new pilots.

If all those who deserve credit and praise for their part in the war in

the air were to be mentioned, their names on the Roll of Honour would be

thick as the motes that people the sunbeam. Most of them must be

content, and are content, to know that they did their work and served

their country. But here and there occurs a name which must not be passed

without comment. On the 5th of August 1914 Mr. F. K. McClean, by whose

help the first naval air pilots had been trained, joined the Royal Naval

Air Service as a flight lieutenant. At the same time he offered to the

service his three motor-cars, his motor-boat at Teddington, his yacht

_Zenaida_, with two machines, and his private house at Eastchurch, which

was converted into a hospital. A nation which commands the allegiance of

such citizens need never fear defeat.

The earliest measure of defence undertaken by the Naval Air Service was

the institution of a coastal patrol for the whole of the East Coast,

from Kinnaird's Head, in Aberdeenshire, to Dungeness, between Dover and

Hastings. This was ordered by the Admiralty on the 8th of August. The

Royal Flying Corps, or rather, such incomplete squadrons of the Royal

Flying Corps as were not yet ordered abroad, undertook the northern and

southern extremes of this patrol, that is to say, the northern section

between the Moray Firth and the Firth of Forth, from Kinnaird's Head to

Fife Ness, and the southern section between the Thames and the coast of

Sussex, from the North Foreland to Dungeness. The most vulnerable part

of the East Coast, from the Forth to the Thames, or from North Berwick

to Clacton, was to be patrolled by the Naval Air Service. But these

arrangements were soon altered. Not many days after the outbreak of war

the Germans established themselves in Belgium, and it was believed that

they would use Belgium as a base for formidable attacks by aircraft on

the Thames estuary and London. The forces of the Naval Air Service were

therefore concentrated between the Humber and the Thames, from Immingham

to Clacton. The Wash was thought to be the most likely landfall for a

German airship raiding London. Regular patrols of the coast were carried

out in the early days of the war, to report the movements of all enemy

ships and aircraft and to detect enemy submarines. But there was not

much to report, and it was weary work waiting for the enemy to begin.

The British Expeditionary Force was ready for service abroad, and it

fell to the Naval Air Service to watch over its passage across the

Channel. A regular patrol between Westgate, close to the North Foreland,

and Ostend was maintained by seaplanes, following one another at

intervals of two hours. On the 13th of August a temporary seaplane base

was established at Ostend under the command of Flight Lieutenant E. T.

R. Chambers, but on the 22nd of August, when the expeditionary force was

safely landed and the occupation of Ostend by the Germans seemed

imminent, the base was withdrawn, and the men and stores were taken back

to England. An airship patrol of the Channel undertaken by airships Nos.

3 and 4 (that is to say, by the _Astra-Torres_ and _Parseval_) began on

the 10th of August, and was continued throughout the month. The average

time of flight of a seaplane on patrol was about three hours, of an

airship about twelve hours, so that the airship, which could slacken its

speed and hover, had the advantage in observation. The chart printed on

p. 363 illustrates the patrols carried out by the two airships on the

13th of August 1914. Here are copies of their logs for the day:

'_Log of No. 3 Airship, 13th August 1914._

7.10 a.m. Rose.

7.37 Passed Sittingbourne.

7.45 Passed Teynham Station.

7.50 Passed Faversham.

8.20 Passed Canterbury.

9.0 Passed Coastguard Station.

9.49 Sighted No. 4 Airship.

10.41 Sighted seaplane on starboard quarter.

5.50 p.m. Altered course for Coastguard Station.

6.25 Coastguard Station.

6.54 Faversham.

7.4 Sittingbourne.

7.34 Landed.

'_Log of No. 4 Airship, 13th August 1914._

7.40 a.m. Left Kingsnorth.

9.28 Passed Coastguard Station, shaped course

for Calais.

10.35 Shaped course for Dover.

11.25 Shaped course for Calais.

11.35[5] Broke one blade of port propeller, rendering

it necessary to change two for new

blades.

12.55 p.m. Proceeded to Calais.

1.40 Shaped course for Dover.

2.12 Course as requisite to arrive at Calais.

2.52 " " " " " " Dover.

3.20 " " " " " " Calais.

4.00 " " " " " " Dover.

4.45 " " " " " " Calais.

5.45 " " " " " " Deal.

7.30 Arrived at Kingsnorth.

7.53 Landed.

[Footnote 5: 'Off Dover at 11.35 a.m. one blade of the port

propeller burst and flew off, narrowly missing damaging the rigging

near the envelope. We were able to fit two new blades while under

way and continue the patrol. This took one hour and twenty

minutes.']

[Illustration: Airship Patrol. 13th August, 1914.]

It will be seen that the _Parseval_, which could not fly for a whole day

without landing for the replenishment of fuel, plied continually

between Dover and Calais, while the _Astra-Torres_, which was the

stronger ship, laid her course far to the east and north-east to search

the Channel for the approach of hostile craft.

Once the expeditionary force was safely across the Channel, these

routine patrols were discontinued, though both airships and seaplanes

continued to make special scouting flights over the North Sea and

Channel. The main work of the Royal Naval Air Service continued to be

coastguard work. At dawn and at sunset patrols were carried out every

possible day, scouting the line of the coast. The group which had its

centre at the Isle of Grain was entrusted with the defence of the Thames

estuary. They had to report the approach of hostile ships and aircraft,

to help our submarines in attack, and to warn friendly craft. They had

two sub-stations, at Clacton and Westgate, facing each other across the

estuary. The monotony of the life was relieved at times by alarms. In

September a seaplane on patrol from Felixstowe sighted a Zeppelin. The

news was received with enthusiasm, which was damped a little when it was

learned that the pilot was some way out to sea, and that his estimate of

his distance from the Zeppelin was sixty miles. On the 17th of November

the Admiralty suspected an impending raid by German warships, and

ordered that all available aeroplanes and seaplanes should be in the air

for the daylight patrol of Thursday, the 19th of November. But even war,

as the philosopher remarked, has its seamy side, and the enemy did not

appear.

This patrol work was tedious and, when the winter came, even dangerous;

a few pilots were lost and some spent hours adrift on wrecked seaplanes.

Here is the report of a December experience of Squadron Commander J. W.

Seddon, over the North Sea:

'I have the honour to report as follows on the circumstances of my

patrol flight with Leading Mechanic R. L. Hartley in Seaplane No. 829

from Grain on Thursday, 17th inst., which ended with the salvage of this

seaplane by the Norwegian Steamship _Orn_, who took us with the seaplane

to Holland; and also on the circumstances of our detention at the Hook

of Holland and subsequent release, and of the detention of the seaplane

at Rotterdam.

'1. _Diary of Events._

8.10 a.m. Left Grain. Wind Wly, moderate.

9.0 a.m. Passed over Galloper, continued eastwards

to investigate steamer proceeding eastwards

at high speed.

9.10 a.m. Steamer proved to be s.s. _Fulmar_ of Liverpool.

Turned back for Galloper. Wind

strong Wly.

9.35 a.m. Motor failed suddenly and completely.

Landed, nothing in sight. Sea moderately

bad. Failure due to breakage of

ignition ring, and though several attempts

were made and engine started on

each occasion, a lasting repair could not

be made. As I was not carrying an

anchor seaplane commenced to drift at

about 2 knots through the water E. by

N. (compass).

'I was feeling unwell when I left Grain and consequently was continually

ill; Leading Mechanic Hartley also was seasick at first.

'The seaplane commenced to settle on the port main float and about 10.30

the port wing float carried away. Leading Mechanic Hartley moved out of

his seat on to the starboard plane.

'The starboard wing float carried away about 11.15 a.m. and the trailing

edge of the port lower plane was continually disintegrating.

'About noon, or perhaps 11.30 a.m., the Flushing steamer passed from E.

to W., but 7 or 8 miles to the Northward, and did not see our signals.

'From then onwards Hartley was continually moving slightly outwards on

the plane to counteract the heel to port, and occasional heavy seas

occurring every five or ten minutes accumulated small damages.

'I therefore endeavoured to empty the main tank by overflowing through

the gravity tank, but the petrol coming back into my face made me more

ill, and after half an hour I could not continue.

'At 2.45 p.m., when I was expecting that a T.B.D. might appear to search

for us, we sighted a small steamer to the N. Westward and making more or

less towards us (some 6 miles distant). Waiting till she was abeam and

only some 2 to 3 miles distant I fired my pistol and also waved. These

signals did not appear to be observed at first, but finally she turned

towards us about 3.15 p.m. and about 3.30 asked us if we wished to be

taken off. This steamer proved to be the s.s. _Orn_ (Captain Rewne). He

manoeuvred and lowered a boat and took us aboard about 4.15 p.m.

'I asked the Captain if he could consider salving the seaplane, being

worth as she was about L2,000, while the engine alone was worth L600 or

L700.

'He promised to try and I went away in the boat again to the seaplane.

'I was not able to board the seaplane myself (going overboard while

assisting one of the crew to do so), but this man got on board the

seaplane successfully and made the necessary lines fast.

'After some difficulty and damage to the seaplane through insufficient

reach of the derrick, she was got on board and the wings folded by 6.0

p.m.; the _Orn_ actually proceeding on her course shortly before this.

No other vessels were sighted during these operations. We were picked

up about 11 miles east from the Galloper Lightship.

'The Captain of the _Orn_ said he could not put back to England on

account of there being no lights, but otherwise would have done so.

'The Captain of the _Orn_ did everything possible for us, supplying us

with hot coffee, food, and wine, and myself with dry clothes.

'We arrived in Dutch waters about 3.10 a.m. and anchored off the

"Hook".'

After attending to the seaplane and taking all possible steps to secure

its release by the Dutch Government, Squadron Commander Seddon was

successful in obtaining the release of himself and his companion; on the

20th of December they sailed from Rotterdam for Harwich.

The seaplane patrols had not sufficient range to get into touch with the

enemy off his own coasts, as the flying boat patrols almost always did

in the later years of the war. Nevertheless, the first six months of

coastguard work were of high value. They knit the service together, and

produced a large body of skilled and practised pilots who prepared

themselves or instructed others for later achievement.

An additional station for seaplane and aeroplane work was established at

Scapa Flow to carry out patrols over the fleet. The patrols commenced on

the 24th of August 1914 and continued daily in all weathers until the

21st of November, when the machines and hangars were completely wrecked

in a gale. On the 27th of August 'Seaplanes Nos. 97 and 156 led the

Battle Fleet to sea'. These were both Henri Farman seaplanes. There were

also two Short seaplanes and a Sopwith Bat boat. A few more were added

in the course of the following weeks, and so zealous and efficient were

the mechanics that, with all the wear and tear of the daily patrol, not

more than two machines at the most were ever out of action at one time

during the first six weeks. Further bases were established during the

autumn of 1914 at Newcastle-on-Tyne and Dover, but the lack of

serviceable machines curtailed the activities of these stations.

The real dramatic centre of England's effort in the air was to be found,

during these months, not at the coastal stations, but in the training

schools and workshops. The progress there made, at first invisible, was

so rapid that Captain Sueter was able to say in July 1915 that every

machine possessed by the Royal Naval Air Service at the outbreak of the

war 'is now regarded as fit only for a museum'.

The problem of providing seaplanes with a floating base so that they

might operate with the fleet at sea became urgent at once. On the 11th

of August the Admiralty, realizing the great utility of aerial scouting

with the fleet, took over three cross-Channel steamers from the

South-Eastern and Chatham Railway Company--the _Empress_, the

_Engadine_, and the _Riviera_. The _Empress_ was fitted out to carry

machines and stores for the Naval Air Service. The _Engadine_ and the

_Riviera_ were structurally altered at Chatham Dockyard, so that they

might serve as seaplane-carriers. Later on, in October 1914, the

_Empress_ was also converted into a seaplane-carrier, and her work as

transport and messenger vessel was taken over by the _Princess

Victoria_.

The whole business of seaplanes was still in the experimental stage, and

during the first twelve months of the war there were many

disappointments. It was found that the seaplanes, when they were loaded

with bombs, could not get off a sea that would hardly distress a picket

boat. Proposals for an aerial raid on Wilhelmshaven and the Kiel canal

were put forward by the Admiralty on the 13th of August, but the

machinery was too imperfect, and the raid did not come off. But on

Christmas Day, 1914, when the weather was propitious, a successful raid

was carried out, as shall be seen, against Cuxhaven. In the meantime

much experimental work was done at high pressure, and a heavy

responsibility fell on the technical staff of the Naval Air Service, who

had to place definite orders, a year ahead, for engines to be developed

and manufactured upon a large scale. In 1915 this policy produced the

225 horse-power Wight tractor, which could fly for seven hours at a

speed of seventy knots, carrying a fair weight of bombs, and the 225

horse-power Short tractor, which could carry five hundredweight of

explosives over a distance of three hundred miles. Both these machines

could face broken water better than the earlier types, though it was not

until the flying boat was perfected that the difficulties presented by a

moderate sea were at last overcome.

It was an acute disappointment to the Naval Air Service that the enemy

fleet at Wilhelmshaven and the enemy dockyards at Kiel should be left so

long unmolested. The tendency to find some one to blame for lost

opportunities is always strong in England. We are a strenuous and moral

people, and we ask for a very formidable blend of virtues in our

leaders. We are proud of the bull-dog breed and the traditions of our

navy, but we demand from the bull-dog all the subtlety of the fox. We

came through the war with credit not chiefly by intelligence but by

character. Perhaps the two are never perfectly combined in one man. We

know what it is to entrust our good name and our safety to men of

stalwart and upright character, whose intelligence may in some points be

open to criticism. Fortunately, we do not so well know what it is to

trust our ultimate welfare to men of quick intelligence whose character

is not above suspicion. The Lords of the Admiralty, like the rest of

that great service, are good fighting sailors and good patriots.

What are called the principles of war, though they can be simply stated,

are not easy to learn, and can never be learned from books alone. They

are the principles of human nature; and who ever learned from books how

to deal successfully with his fellows? War, which drives human nature to

its last resources, is a great engine of education, teaching no lessons

which it does not illustrate, and enforcing all its lessons by bitter

penalties. One of the notorious principles of war, familiar to all who

have read books about war, is that a merely defensive attitude is a

losing attitude. This truth is as true of games and boxing, or of

traffic and bargaining, as it is of war. Every successful huckster is

thoroughly versed in the doctrine of the initiative, which he knows by

instinct and experience, not by the reading of learned treatises. A man

who knows what he wants and means to get it is at a great advantage in

traffic with another man who is thinking only of self-defence. Every

successful boxer is an expert in military science; he tries either to

weaken his adversary by repeated assaults on the vital organs, or to

knock him out by a stunning blow. He does not call these operations by

the learned names of strategy and tactics, but he knows all about them.

The most that a book can do, for trader or boxer or soldier, is to

quicken perception and prepare the mind for the teaching of experience.

The experience of the war from beginning to end taught the old lesson of

the supreme value of the offensive. The lesson was quickly learned and

put to the proof by our forces on the western front. The Royal Naval Air

Service, from the first, sought every opportunity for offensive action.

Raids over enemy centres, for the reasons which have been given, were

impossible to carry out except in the best of weather. Offensive action

in collaboration with ships of war was impeded by the imperfect

structure of the seaplanes and the imperfect arrangements for conveying

them to the scene of action. Meantime the public, impressed by the

dangers to be feared from the Zeppelin, called chiefly for defence. It

has never been easy to instruct even the members of the other services

concerning the right use of aircraft in war. When once they were

reconciled to our aeroplanes they liked to see them in the air above

them, which is the place of all places where our aeroplanes are least

useful. It is greatly to the credit of those officers who commanded the

Royal Flying Corps and the Royal Naval Air Service that they divined the

right doctrine, and practised it, and established it in use, thereby

securing for the air force the liberty to use its power to the best

advantage.

The best and most highly trained of the naval air units was the first to

be sent abroad. This was the Eastchurch squadron, under Wing Commander

Samson. Just after the outbreak of war it had been sent to Skegness, to

carry out patrol duties. On the 25th of August its commander was

summoned to London by the Director of the Air Department, and was

ordered to take his squadron on the following morning to Ostend, which

had been chosen to serve as an advanced base for reconnaissance. They

were to co-operate with a force of marines. Air Commodore Samson, in the

reminiscences which he has kindly contributed for the purpose of this

history, speaks with enthusiasm of the men and officers under his

command.

'Never once', he says, 'were we let down by our men, and both in France

and the Dardanelles they worked like slaves without a single complaint.

It is an absolute fact that during these periods I never had to deal

with a single disciplinary offence. They were the very pick of the Royal

Naval Air Service.'

The pilots, after receiving their orders, were kept waiting for a day at

Eastchurch, to give time for the landing of the Marine Brigade. 'This

depressed everybody,' says Air Commodore Samson, 'as we were all

suffering from the fear of the war being over before we could get a

chance to take part in it.' The fear proved groundless.

On the 27th of August there flew over:

Wing Commander C. R. Samson.

Flight Lieutenant S. V. Sippe.

Flight Lieutenant E. Osmond.

Squadron Commander R. B. Davies.

Flight Lieutenant C. F. Beevor.

Squadron Commander E. F. Briggs.

Flight Lieutenant I. H. W. S. Dalrymple-Clarke.

Squadron Commander I. T. Courtney.

Flight Lieutenant H. A. Littleton.

Flight Lieutenant Lord Edward Grosvenor.

An airship (No. 3) was flown across by Wing Commander N. F. Usborne,

with him Flight Lieutenant W. C. Hicks and Flight Lieutenant E. H.

Sparling. Squadron Commander R. H. Clark Hall, Captain Barnby of the

Royal Marines, and four junior officers of the Royal Naval Volunteer

Reserve were attached for special duties. The motor-cars, lorries, and

stores were embarked at Sheerness on board H.M.S. _Empress_ and s.s.

_Rawcliffe_. The machines that were flown over were a various

assemblage--three B.E. biplanes, two Sopwith biplanes, two Bleriot

monoplanes, one Henri Farman biplane, one Bristol biplane, and a

converted Short seaplane fitted with a land undercarriage in place of

the floats. Warrant Officer J. G. Brownridge, R.N., was in charge of the

repair and upkeep of the aeroplanes. In these early days there were no

distinguishing marks on aeroplanes; it was arranged that every machine

should fly a Union Jack lashed to one of its struts, but this was not

done.

[Illustration: Prepared in the Historical Section of the Committee of

Imperial Defence.

Commander Samson's Operations in Belgium.]

The whole force arrived in safety, with only one or two minor mishaps.

Wing Commander Samson was fired at by rifles as he was coming down, and

after landing was stalked by a couple of British marines, who had come

to Belgium to shoot Germans and were aching to get to work.

The force remained at Ostend for three days only. There was no artillery

except the guns of the ships lying off the port, and the Marine Brigade

had only about half a dozen machine-guns. The defence of Ostend against

a German attack in force would have been more than difficult. The

aeroplanes carried out reconnaissance flights daily over the area

between Bruges, Ghent, and Ypres, and, on the suggestion of General

Aston, who commanded the Marine Brigade, Wing Commander Samson made a

motor-car reconnaissance as far as Thourout and Bruges, in two cars, one

of them fitted with a Maxim gun. 'At Bruges', says Air Commodore Samson,

'we were received with great enthusiasm, the streets being crowded with

people. The popular delusion, which we did not contradict, was that we

were the advance party of a large British army. The Civil Guard hastily

donned their uniform on our arrival, and turned out briskly, with

weapons and valour. They used, we found out later, to be quick-change

artists, from uniform to plain clothes, and vice versa, according to the

circumstances. Having gained some information in the town, we returned

to Ostend. The whole party enjoyed themselves immensely, although some

of the more bloodthirsty members were disappointed at not getting a

fight. This trip made us consider the question of motor-car operations,

and ideas were discussed for armouring the cars.'

On the 30th of August orders came that the Marine Brigade and the

aeroplane squadron should return at once to England. It was a depressed

party that loaded up the stores and transport on board H.M.S. _Empress_

and the attendant collier. The aeroplanes flew by way of Dunkirk, where

there was a slight haze and they landed. Lord Edward Grosvenor made a

faulty landing, and crashed his Bleriot beyond all hopes of repair. This

accident, which would have been treated as insignificant if it had

occurred on the way out, proved important enough to delay the aeroplanes

for three days at Dunkirk. During this time General Bidon, who commanded

the French troops at Dunkirk, and Mr. Sarel, the British vice-consul,

made urgent representations to the British Foreign Office, pleading that

the squadron should be permitted, for military and diplomatic reasons,

to co-operate with the French. Meantime, two of the aeroplanes carried

out a reconnaissance towards Lille and Douai. On the 1st of September a

telegram came from the Admiralty ordering that the squadron should

remain at Dunkirk, to operate against Zeppelins and enemy aeroplanes,

and to carry out reconnaissances as required by the French general. The

policy that was now adopted was subsequently explained at greater length

in an Admiralty telegram to the French Ministry of Marine:

'The Admiralty considers it extremely important to deny the use of

territory within a hundred miles of Dunkirk to German Zeppelins, and to

attack by aeroplanes all airships found replenishing there. With your

permission the Admiralty wish to take all necessary measures to maintain

aerial command of this region. The Admiralty proposes therefore to place

thirty or forty naval aeroplanes at Dunkirk or other convenient coast

points. In order that these may have a good radius of action they must

be able to establish temporary bases forty to fifty miles inland. The

Admiralty desires to reinforce officer commanding aeroplanes with fifty

to sixty armed motor-cars and two hundred to three hundred men. This

small force will operate in conformity with the wishes of the French

military authorities, but we hope it may be accorded a free initiative.

The immunity of Portsmouth, Chatham, and London from dangerous aerial

attack is clearly involved.'

So this little naval force began at once to operate from Dunkirk,

carrying out reconnaissances by aeroplane, and using motor-cars for

raids on the flank of the German communications. It gave assistance to

the French and put heart into the much-tried civil population of

Belgium. Most of the work at first was done with motor-cars, for the

aeroplanes were few in number.

On the 4th of September Wing Commander Samson, having started out with

two cars, one of them fitted with a Maxim gun, heard at Cassel by

telephone that six German officers in a motor-car had just passed

through Bailleul on their way to Cassel. The steep hill down from Cassel

to the plain beneath offered him an excellent point of vantage to lie in

wait for them, but he was unwilling to take it, for a fight close to the

town would have given the Germans an excuse for pretending that they had

been attacked by civilians, and for shooting some of the inhabitants. So

he went out to meet them, and engaged them at a range of five hundred

yards on the Cassel-Bailleul road. Two of the Germans were wounded, and

their car made off to Bailleul. Wing Commander Samson lay in wait for

them for almost two hours, in the hope that they would return reinforced

to continue the engagement. During this time an old French captain of

gendarmes, about sixty-five years of age, with a long-barrelled pistol,

arrived in a limousine, accompanied by his wife. He had raised a little

army of ten gendarmes, who came up soon after, armed with carbines.

Madame and the limousine then retired from the battle-field, while the

gallant captain disposed his army behind the hedge to await the return

of the enemy. But the enemy did not return; a message from the Bailleul

post office told how they had halted only three minutes in Bailleul, and

how they and all the other German military cars in Bailleul had gone

back post-haste to Lille, leaving behind them a quantity of wine which

they had collected from the residents. 'We had a tremendous reception',

says Air Commodore Samson, 'from the inhabitants of Cassel, who had

enjoyed a splendid view of our little engagement from their commanding

position on the hill-top. I was pleased that they had seen Germans

running away, as it would remove from their minds that 1870 feeling

which there is little doubt the Germans still produced in the minds of

civilian Frenchmen. This fight gave us a prestige in the villages

greater than its result called for. Probably the six German officers

reported that they had run up against tremendous odds.'

In the course of the next few weeks there were many such adventures. On

the 5th of September, the eve of the battle of the Marne, General Bidon

reported that the Germans, who had occupied Lille in force, were about

to leave, and that he intended to send some infantry, supported by a

squadron of cavalry at Bailleul, to capture the transport wagons which

were likely to be left behind. He asked for some motor-cars to escort

the infantry back from Lille. Wing Commander Samson, having borrowed

from the French two machine-guns (he had only one of his own) and four

French artillerymen, started off early on the morning of the 6th of

September, with four motor-cars (three of them armed with machine-guns),

six officers, ten of his own men, and the four Frenchmen. An aeroplane,

flown by Flight Lieutenant Dalrymple-Clarke, was detailed to escort

them, with instructions to fly well ahead and to come down low and fire

a Very light if any of the enemy were sighted. In the outskirts of Lille

the party learned that the Germans, two thousand infantry and eighty

cavalry, had left Lille that morning, so they went on into the big

square where the Prefecture stands. The square was packed with people.

The rest shall be told in Air Commodore Samson's own words:

'We got through the crowd, and took the cars into the courtyard, lining

them up abreast facing the square. The gendarmes at my request kept the

roadway in front of the building clear of the populace, so that we were

afforded a clear exit in case we had a fight, although I did not much

look forward to one with this seething crowd of civilians in the way.

Practically the whole of Lille appeared to be here; they were most

enthusiastic, cheering, singing, and shouting out, _Vive l'Angleterre!_

I did everything I could to impress the people with our discipline and

military behaviour, placing four of my men as sentries in a line behind

the railings, and one man standing by each machine-gun. Our sentries

stood like Guardsmen, and even when beautiful French girls came on the

scene, and sponged their faces and brushed the dust off their clothes,

they stood like lumps of granite. Leaving Davies in charge of the party,

I went inside to see the Prefect. He was pleased to see us, and said

that our arrival had reassured the town to a most extraordinary extent,

demonstrating to the people that they were not entirely at the mercy of

the enemy. He then told me of the brutal treatment he had received at

the hands of the Germans, showing the marks made on his throat by the

fingers of a German lieutenant who had nearly throttled him. They had

gone so far as to lead him out to hang him from a balcony, and he said

he had only been saved from this terrible fate by the coolness of his

secretary, who told the German that the Prefect du Nord was one of the

chief officials in France, and that his murder was a serious matter, not

lightly to be undertaken. The Prefect gave me the German officer's name,

and said, "If ever you come across him, do not let him go". I promised I

would not. The Prefect then went on to say that the Germans had been

quite worried over the fight at Cassel, and they had got the idea into

their heads that there was a large force of English round about Cassel.

Two German officers had been wounded in the fight, one seriously and the

other only slightly. There were, he said, about fifty French and some

few English wounded in the town; they had been left there by the

Germans, and if I signed a proclamation to say I had taken the town they

could be evacuated to Dunkirk, otherwise the town would be held

responsible. I therefore made out and signed the following Proclamation:

_To the Authorities of the City of Lille._

I have this day occupied Lille with an armed English and French Force.

'C. R. Samson,

'Commander, R.N.

Officer in Command of English

Force at Dunkirk.

I added the latter sentence in order to impress upon the Germans that

there was a large force at Dunkirk. This proclamation the Prefect

ordered to be immediately printed and posted all over the town. I

remained at the Hotel de Ville until late in the afternoon, and as by

then it was found out that the Germans had not left any transports

behind, and that there was no chance of any French troops being sent to

Lille, I reluctantly decided that I ought to return to Dunkirk. We had

an ovation on our return journey through the streets, and our cars were

full of flowers, chocolate, cigarettes, &c.; the dense crowds cheered

themselves hoarse, and one felt rather as I imagined a Roman General

used to feel on being given a Triumph. The only mishap was when an

excitable individual threw a bottle of beer at me which smashed the

screen and gave me a severe blow on the jaw; I fancy he must have had

German sympathies.

'On our return to Dunkirk the French General, Bidon, was most

complimentary concerning our expedition, which he considered had been of

great value.'

The fight at Cassel had inspired the people of the district with a

plenary belief in the powers of the little English force. A few days

later, while Commander Samson was on a reconnaissance near Armentieres,

he was stopped by an excited civilian in a motor-car who offered to

conduct him to a place where he might kill some Germans. The Germans, it

appeared, were from two to three thousand in number, with two batteries

of artillery, and were going from Lille to Douai. 'Personally', says Air

Commodore Samson, 'I thought about two thousand Germans rather a tough

proposition for four Englishmen and one unreliable old Maxim, and I

regretted that we could not carry out the slaughter he desired. He was

very crest-fallen, and said, "But I will come too".'

The motor-car work was daily gaining in importance; what was needed was

a stronger force and armoured cars. Two of the cars were fitted with

improvised armour made of boiler-plate at the _Forges et Chantiers de

France_, the big shipbuilding firm of Dunkirk, and application was made

to the home authorities for a larger force of marines and specially

designed armoured cars. The First Lord of the Admiralty (Mr. Winston

Churchill) and the Director of the Air Department (Captain Murray

Sueter) were quick to support any enterprise that showed life and

promise; on the 8th of September there arrived a reinforcement of 250

marines under Major Armstrong, most of them reservists and pensioners,

but stout men when it came to a fight. Further, Wing Commander Samson

got into touch with Captain Goldsmith, of the General Headquarters

Intelligence Department, and, by his efforts, was put in control of the

gendarmes in the villages of the zone where he was operating. The

aeroplanes daily watched the movements of German troops along the roads,

and the motor-cars, assisted sometimes by the infantry, carried out

sweeps and drives, to surround parties of German horsemen or cyclists.

There were some fights. On the 13th of September there was a brush with

some German cavalry patrols, on the Albert road, just outside the town

of Doullens. 'We got out of the cars', says Air Commodore Samson, 'and

opened fire with rifles at about five hundred yards range. We hit five

of them. Three were killed, and one was picked up severely wounded. We

took him to a hospital in Doullens, where he died without recovering

consciousness. It rather made me feel a brute seeing this poor fellow

dying, and War seemed a beastly business. He was a rather half-starved

looking fellow, and looked as if he had been on short rations for a long

time. It was rather a repugnant job searching him whilst he was passing

away from this life, but it had to be done. Goldsmith, who could read

German, found from his papers that he belonged to the First Squadron of

the 26th Dragoons, Wurtemberg. He had a little child's atlas with which

to find his way about the country, and the map of France was about three

inches square, with only the names of half a dozen towns on it.'

The Naval Air Service now looked about for an advanced inland base, with

an aerodrome, for their aeroplane and motor-car reconnaissances. They

found one at the village of Morbecque, about three miles south of

Hazebrouck, and just north of the forest of Nieppe. There, on the 19th

of September, they established the headquarters of the unit. Most of the

officers and men were housed in an old chateau by the favour of Madame

la Baronne de la Grange, who had shown a fine example to her villagers

by remaining on duty, and had so impressed the Germans that they left

the village untouched. Two aeroplanes and six armoured cars and lorries

were the equipment of headquarters, and what in the navy is called the

lower deck personnel numbered 187 marines and 31 naval ratings. Most of

the work continued to be done by the motor-cars. Some of the lorries

were armoured with boiler-plate by the shipbuilding firm at Dunkirk, and

new armoured cars began to arrive in driblets from England. A cyclist

force was raised from the marines, and a number of French boys who knew

the country well were embodied in a boy scout unit. The main idea of

these preparations was to organize attacks on the German lines of

communication in the zone of country between Lille and Valenciennes. The

troops for this purpose were to consist of a brigade of French

territorial infantry with a squadron of Algerian cavalry, popularly

known as 'Goumiers', and a battery of the famous 'Soixante-quinze' field

guns. The Royal Naval Air Service were to operate, with as big a force

of armoured cars as possible, under the French general in command. On

the 22nd of September the French troops occupied Douai. The cars made a

reconnaissance to Aniche, between Douai and Valenciennes, and there had

a sharp engagement in the streets with German cavalry. Two days later

they had a stiff fight at Orchies, where a French territorial regiment,

detached to guard the route between Lille and Douai, was being heavily

attacked by two German battalions. The cars helped to extricate the

French troops and covered their retirement to Douai. But the German

forces in this northern territory were being reinforced strongly, and

reconnaissance by road became difficult. When Wing Commander Samson, on

the day after the fight at Aniche, was required to make a reconnaissance

to Cantin, a village three or four miles to the south of Douai along the

Cambrai road, he started off in a Talbot touring car with Sub-Lieutenant

Lord Annesley and Lieutenant F. R. Samson. They had two rifles, ten

rounds of ammunition, and three automatic pistols. 'It appeared

perfectly evident', he says, 'that between us and Cantin there were not

only the German guns, but plenty of German infantry. I must confess that

the three of us did not at all relish the idea of ambling into the whole

German Army and the local von Kluck in a touring car, but the job had to

be carried out to keep up our good name and the reputation of the

R.N.A.S.'

The Germans were in force, as he expected, and after a brisk engagement

he returned to Douai. The Douai operations, which were to have been an

attack on the German lines of communication, now became a defence of

Douai against the Germans. By the 29th of September Douai was virtually

in a state of siege, and it became a question whether the French troops

could be extricated. On the afternoon of the 1st of October the end

came. By that time the Germans had got into the town and were firing at

the Hotel de Ville from the housetops. 'A shouting mob of cyclists and

infantry', says Air Commodore Samson, 'rushed into the courtyard of the

Hotel de Ville, yelling out that we were surrounded, and the Germans had

taken the Pont d'Esquerchin. I went to General Plantey and said that

the only thing to do was to recapture the bridge and drive the Germans

away from that sector. He agreed, and said that if I would lead the way

with my cars he would follow with what of the troops he could get to

fight. There was no doubt that if we did not do something a wholesale

surrender was certain. I strongly objected to being mixed up in that. I

felt certain that if we could only start a fight the morale would

improve and that we would have every chance of extricating the whole

force from its predicament. I led out our cars therefore from the Hotel

de Ville, and forcing our way through crowds of infantry and civilians

we reached a corner where I found about four hundred Infantry. I

implored, and swore, and ordered them to follow us against the enemy,

but only one came, jumping on to the step of the last car. From this

corner a straight street four hundred yards long led to a bridge over

the canal, which bridge was held by the Germans. As we went along this

road I certainly thought that here was the end of our little party, and

I felt very guilty at bringing Armstrong, Coode, and the other fine

fellows to death for no purpose except to keep up the Pride of the

Service. The fact that the infantry would not come on after us made us

very fierce, and I am certain, speaking for myself, that this feeling of

anger made us far braver than we had felt at first. I took the cars to

the head of the bridge and then halted them, and we opened fire along

the roadways which ran on both sides of the canal and along the road

ahead of us. I ordered the marines out of the cars on to the roadway,

and told them to keep up a hot fire on the Germans who were on the

opposite bank. Going myself with one marine on to the bridge I saw some

Huns on board two barges which were alongside the far bank, and emptied

my magazine at them. I can remember to this day the sound one of their

bullets made as it hit the girder alongside my face. We were so excited

that I am afraid our fire was very wild, but it made up for lack of

accuracy by its volume, our three machine-guns firing like mad. We kept

up this game for about five minutes, when I saw the Germans clearing off

in all directions. I ordered, "Cease fire", and ordered all on board the

cars. I then led the cars at full speed along the main Henin-Lietard

road, intending to get to the position we had held in the morning, as

from there we could cover the retreat of the French and command the

approaches to the Pont d'Esquerchin.... I knew that in front of us there

was a double trench across the road, and which entailed cars stopping

and reversing to get through in the gap left between the two trenches.

Just short of this obstacle was a side road leading to Beaumont. I

determined, if we met the enemy at the trench, to hold the corner at the

side road as long as we could, hoping that the Infantry would follow on.

This side road would be the line of approach of the cavalry division

reported close to Beaumont. On arriving at the corner we encountered a

very heavy fire coming from the trench and the high ground close to it.

It would have been useless to have attempted to go on against that

volume of fire, so we stopped at the corner, where we got some shelter

from a cottage, and opened fire with the machine-guns from the two

armoured cars, whilst the rest of us lay down on the road and kept up a

hot fire with rifles.

'We held out at the corner for nearly fifteen minutes until the Germans

opened fire with field guns from Le Polygone; the situation then got too

hot, as shrapnel was bursting all round us, and the cottage was quickly

demolished by high explosives. I therefore gave the order to retire, and

we jumped on board the cars and went along the Cuincy-Esquerchin road.

After we had put a mile between us and the corner I halted to see how we

had fared. Our casualties now consisted of eight men wounded. All the

cars had many bullet-marks, but no serious damage had been done to them,

except one of the armoured cars had a bullet through its radiator,

causing it to lose practically all its water. We only had about 200

rounds of ammunition left, and were running pretty short of petrol,

otherwise all was well with us.... I considered that we had done

everything we could to open a line of retreat for the infantry, and that

we had held out at the corner as long as was possible. As it happened we

had cleared the way for the French, as the general got 2,500 infantry

out of the town across the Pont d'Esquerchin and keeping close to the

canal bank he had got them well clear of the Huns without firing a shot,

whilst we were fighting them at the corner. I am afraid that a good

number remained in the town and were captured. General Plantey was kind

enough to write to say that if it had not been for the English cars who

had opened the door he could not have extricated his force.

'Just short of Beaumont I came across the cavalry division. I went up to

the General, who was a fine martial figure surrounded by an escort of

Cuirassiers with steel breast-plates. After I had told him what had

happened, I said that there was every probability of the Douai Force

having surrendered, but there was a chance of them having got out whilst

we were holding the cross-roads. He was complimentary about our

performance and said we had done all we could. He recommended that I

should return to Morbecque and report to General Aston. He said that he

was not pushing on any farther, but was going to retire to Beaumont. I

therefore went through Beaumont to Bethune and back to Morbecque, where

we were received as if we had risen from the dead. Briggs told me that

they had fully expected never to see us again. I went to bed after

telephoning to General Paris, who had relieved General Aston in command

of the Marines. General Paris sent the following report to the

Admiralty: "Commander Samson and all ranks appear to have behaved very

gallantly in difficult circumstances, and I consider his action was

perfectly correct."'

These motor-car operations were no part of the war in the air. But they

were carried out by the Royal Naval Air Service, and they illustrate the

immense diversity of business which was undertaken by that service

during the course of the war. Off the coast of Cornwall or over the

rivers of West Africa, in raids on German cities or in expeditions to

assist beleaguered Allies, the Naval Air Service were incessantly active

on the fringe of things. They were sailors and adventurers by tradition;

they adapted themselves to circumstance, and made the best of what they

found. Their courage put new heart into desperate men, and their

humanity (the greatest tradition of the British navy) added lustre to

their courage. The half-witted pedantry of the German doctrine and

practice of war, which uses brutality as a protective mask for

cowardice, was far from them. It was against that doctrine and practice,

as against an alien enemy, that they fought; and only those who have

been guilty of inhuman practices have ever had cause to complain of

their cruelty.

Beyond the usual reconnaissances not very much work was done in the air

from headquarters. The available aeroplanes were few, and there were

many calls on them. Nominally the Dunkirk force was to consist of three

squadrons of twelve machines each, but in these early days two or three

machines were, often the most that a squadron could muster. On the 3rd

of September Squadron Commander E. L. Gerrard arrived at Ostend with

three additional machines intended to operate from Antwerp against

airship sheds in Germany. These machines remained at Ostend, pegged down

under the lee of the sand dunes, while Squadron Commander Gerrard went

by road to Antwerp to find an aerodrome and to arrange for the proposed

raid. On the 12th of September a violent squall came up from the west

and caught the machines, uprooting or breaking the stakes to which they

were secured. The machines turned cartwheels along the sands and were

totally wrecked. The party returned to Dunkirk to refit, and as the

attack on the Zeppelin sheds in Germany was reckoned to be of the first

importance, Wing Commander Samson, who was ordered to take charge of the

flight, had to give up three of the best machines he had.

It was believed at that time that Antwerp would not fall. When the

British army was moved north from the Aisne to Ypres, the original idea

of the Allied strategy was resuscitated. That idea had been to take the

offensive in Belgium and to repel the German advance or to make a flank

attack on it. But the German blow had been too heavy and too quick for

this plan to develop, and in the effort to save Paris the British army

had been driven far southwards into France. Paris was saved at the

Marne, and now that the Germans had entrenched themselves in a corner of

France it was hoped that an attack upon their communications would

compel them to retreat. Again the Germans were beforehand. When things

came to a standstill on the Aisne, they concentrated a large force in

Belgium to make a push for the Channel ports. The British naval

division, arriving at Antwerp on the 5th of October, could do no more

than delay the fall of Antwerp by a few days. The Seventh Division of

the British army, under Sir Henry Rawlinson, which was disembarked at

Ostend and Zeebrugge on the 6th of October, found that its task was not

an assault on the German flank but the defence of the Channel ports from

a furious German assault.

Nevertheless, the Naval Air Service carried on. Two attacks were made on

the airship sheds at Duesseldorf and Cologne. The earlier of these was

made on the 22nd of September by four aeroplanes, two for each place.

There was a thick mist extending from the river Roer to some miles east

of the Rhine, and only Flight Lieutenant Collet succeeded in finding his

objective. He glided down at Duesseldorf from a height of 6,000 feet, the

last 1,500 feet through the mist, and came in sight of the shed when he

was a quarter of a mile from it at a height of 400 feet. One of his

bombs fell short; the others probably hit the shed, but failed to

explode. Germans ran in all directions. All four machines were back in

Antwerp by one o'clock in the afternoon.

The second and more successful attack was made on the 8th of October,

during the evacuation of Antwerp. Antwerp was being bombarded, the

panic-stricken retreat of the population had begun, but the Naval Air

Service stuck to its aerodrome, and carried out the first notable

air-raid of the war. On the 7th of October the machines at Antwerp had

been taken out of their shed and planted in the middle of the aerodrome,

to avoid damage by splinters if the shed should be hit by a shell. On

the forenoon of the 8th the weather was misty, so Squadron Commander

Spenser Grey and Flight Lieutenant Marix spent the time in tuning up

their Sopwith Tabloid machines. In the afternoon there was no

improvement in the weather, but if an attack was to be made from Antwerp

it was important to start, for the Germans were about to enter the

city. Flight Lieutenant Marix, starting at 1.30 p.m., flew to

Duesseldorf, dived at the shed, and let go his bombs at a height of 600

feet. The destruction was complete. The roof fell in within thirty

seconds and flames rose to a height of 500 feet, showing that an

inflated Zeppelin must have been inside. The aeroplane was damaged by a

heavy rifle- and shell-fire, but Lieutenant Marix managed to get back to

within twenty miles of Antwerp, and to return to the city by the aid of

a bicycle which he borrowed from a peasant. Squadron Commander Spenser

Grey, starting at 1.20 p.m., flew to Cologne, where he found a thick

mist and failed to locate the airship sheds. He dropped his bombs on the

main railway station in the middle of the town, and got back to Antwerp

at 4.45 p.m. At six o'clock the general evacuation of Antwerp was

ordered, and the officers of the Naval Air Service succeeded in reaching

Ostend by noon on the following day. The transport and stores had

preceded them. Since the 3rd of October Wing Commander Samson's force

had been employed in assisting the naval division at Antwerp. Some

seventy motor omnibuses, taken off the streets of the cities of England,

and driven by their civilian drivers, who made up in cheerfulness and

skill for what they lacked in military science, had been employed to

carry the stores of the naval division, and were escorted by the

armoured cars. Their stay in Antwerp was brief. Where once the Germans

had succeeded in bringing their big guns within range the end was

certain. 'I used to find the streets of Antwerp', says Air Commodore

Samson, 'a most depressing sight, thronged as they were with Belgians;

beautifully dressed ladies were apparently carrying on their usual life,

shopping and promenading as if the siege was a minor affair.' The people

of a great commercial city are slow to realize the facts of war. When

the realization comes it comes with panic swiftness. The crowd of

refugees which hurried by all roads out of Antwerp during the night of

the 9th of October bound for anywhere, and fleeing from the destroyers

of Louvain, was one of the most disheartening spectacles of the war.

There were some bright spots in the prevailing darkness. One of these

was General Sir Henry Rawlinson, of the Seventh Division, who took over

the command at Ostend. 'I came into contact continuously with him for

the next month,' says Air Commodore Samson, 'and I never saw him

down-hearted once, even in the worst periods at Ypres. I never left his

presence without feeling that we were bound to win: he was worth an Army

Corps by himself.' The English nurses, who had two omnibus loads of

wounded, are another luminous memory of that awful night. 'They were a

splendid advertisement for the English race; absolutely unperturbed,

calm and competent, amidst the surrounding mob of panic-stricken people.

They impressed me more than I can say. Their one job was to get their

wounded charges safe to Ostend, and that they would do it was evident to

the most casual observer.'

The evacuation of Antwerp put an end to all plans for a British

offensive in Belgium. Ostend was crowded with refugees, and the streets

were full of distressing scenes. The harbour railway station was a

seething mass of humanity attempting to get on board the few steamers

that went to England. The British forces, and with them the Royal Naval

Air Service, retreated by stages. Aerodromes were occupied successively

at Thourout, Ypres, and, on the 15th of October, Poperinghe. On this

same date Zeebrugge and Ostend fell into the hands of the Germans.

'During the last three weeks', says Air Commodore Samson, 'we had been

always on the go, without a home, without any idea where we were going

to next, without food sometimes, without adequate transport, and yet we

had kept going because all ranks had pulled their pound and a bit over.'

Thus ended the Belgian adventure of the Naval Air Service. It had been

good while it lasted. If a force of five thousand skilled and fit men,

with armoured cars and aeroplanes, had been available for these

operations, the German communications might have been seriously

disordered. Some critics condemn all such adventures as 'side-shows'.

They may be right; but it is always to be remembered that the national

character is seen at its best in solitary adventures of this kind, and

that the British Empire, from the first, was built up by

side-shows--many of them unauthorized by the Government. The experience

of this war, and of former wars, proves only that these enterprises lose

a great part of their value if they are timidly designed or

half-heartedly executed. To condemn them out and out is to prefer the

German plan of empire, which depends wholly on central initiative and

central control, to the sporadic energy of the British Empire, which can

never be killed by a blow aimed at the centre, for its life is in every

part. Military theory, based as it is chiefly on the great campaigns of

continental conquerors, has so impressed some of its British students

that they forget their own nature, renounce their pride, and cheapen

their dearest possessions.

The overseas work of the Naval Air Service during the closing months of

1914, from the battle of Ypres onwards, can be briefly stated. It

consisted of help given to the British army, reconnaissances and attacks

carried out along the occupied coast of Belgium, and two great

air-raids.

During the battle of Ypres one naval aeroplane was working for the First

Army Corps. Reconnaissances were carried out daily by the few available

machines. Squadron Commander Davies on three occasions attacked German

machines in the air; they escaped by planing down to behind their own

lines. Flight Lieutenant Collet, whose aeroplane had been wrecked, flew

as observer to Squadron Commander Davies, and reported the positions of

six new German batteries. Flight Lieutenant Pierse, in an old

inefficient machine which climbed badly, made many flights along the

coast, and was wounded by shrapnel in the air over Antwerp.

Meantime, on the 31st of October, a seaplane base was established at

Dunkirk in the works of the shipbuilding company, which occupied a part

of the harbour. Under Squadron Commander J. W. Seddon the seaplanes did

some good work; they located enemy guns, dropped heavy bombs on Bruges

railway station, co-operated with the ships' guns in the bombardment of

the coast, kept a look-out for German submarines, and reported on the

enemy defences.

This base at Dunkirk remained an active centre for our seaplane and

aeroplane work throughout the war, and did much to defeat the German

plans. The possession of the coast of Flanders had a twofold value for

the Germans; it served to safeguard the right flank of their invading

army and it provided them with a base both for their submarine campaign

and for occasional attacks on the naval forces which held the Dover

Straits. There can be no doubt that it was part of their plan to take

permanent possession of the Belgian coast. It is not easy to understand

why, before the war, when Zeebrugge and Ostend were made into fortified

harbours, a clause was inserted in the contractors' orders that the mole

at Zeebrugge should be fit to carry hundred-ton guns and to withstand

heavy gun recoil; also, that the Zeebrugge and Ostend locks and basins

should be capable of accommodating a flotilla of torpedo-boats. These

things were not done in the interests of England, nor had the Belgian

Government any reason to fear naval aggression from the west. The plans

which had this beginning were developed and completed during the first

two years of the German occupation. Bruges, which was joined by canals

both to Zeebrugge and Ostend, became the naval headquarters of the

German forces, the base for submarines and torpedo-craft, and the centre

for construction and repair. Everything was organized on a solid basis,

as if to endure; yet at some time during the third year of the war the

enemy must have begun to feel doubtful whether he could keep his hold on

the Belgian coast. About thirty miles along the coast from Ostend, and

forty or more miles from Zeebrugge, lay the port of Dunkirk, occupied in

strength by the navies of France and Great Britain, and by the Royal

Naval Air Service. Dunkirk was a thorn in the side of the Germans. The

docks and harbours at Bruges, Zeebrugge, and Ostend were incessantly

bombed from the air. Ships and works were seriously damaged, but the

effect on the morale of the German forces was even more considerable.

Repeated alarms, which sent all hands to take shelter in dug-outs,

interfered with the work of every day. In the main basin at Bruges, and

alongside the Zeebrugge mole, shelters, jutting out over the water, were

provided for submarines and destroyers. The respect felt by the Germans

for the menace of Dunkirk is perhaps best witnessed by the fierce

nightly attacks from the air which they made on the town during the

later period of the war. Admiral Sir Reginald Bacon, who commanded the

Dover Patrol from April 1915 Until the end of 1917, speaks of these as

'the martyrdom of Dunkirk'. A great many of the houses in the town were

levelled with the ground. Yet the inhabitants, knowing that they were

maintaining a force which gave as good as it got, went about their

daily business cheerful and unperturbed. They were rewarded in the end.

When, after the armistice, the last German submarine came through the

lock-gates at Zeebrugge, with her crew fallen in on the fore

superstructure, her captain called for three cheers,--'As that's the

last you'll see of Flanders.' The cheers were given very heartily--an

involuntary tribute to the four years' work of the naval services at

Dunkirk.

All these things were yet to come when the third of the naval aeroplane

raids into enemy territory was made on the 21st of November 1914. This,

the successful attack on the Zeppelin sheds at Friedrichshafen, Lake

Constance, was planned and executed to perfection. Lieutenant Pemberton

Billing, of the Royal Naval Volunteer Reserve, left England on the 21st

of October under Admiralty instructions. He arrived at Belfort on the

24th and, by the courtesy of the French general in command, obtained

permission to use the aerodrome within the fortifications and its large

dirigible shed as the starting-point for a raid. German spies were

believed to be at work in Belfort, so arrangements were made for the

machines to be brought into the place by road transport at night, and

for their pilots to be boarded and lodged, during the whole of their

stay, in the dirigible shed. Having completed these preliminaries,

Lieutenant Billing carried out discreet inquiries which enabled him to

draw up a chart of the proposed route, a complete plan of the Zeppelin

factory, and a draft of instructions for the proposed raid.

Meantime the French had themselves been meditating a raid on

Friedrichshafen, and the Governor of Belfort had received some valuable

reports on the factory and the prevailing weather conditions. After some

discussion it was decided that as Zeppelins were intended to assist in

the destruction of the British fleet, the Royal Naval Air Service

should be privileged to pay the first visit, but that this privilege

should lapse if the visit were not paid within thirty days.

In the season of late autumn, when the barometer is high and the air

calm, the whole of the Swiss plateau and the Rhine valley bordering it

is often plunged in a thick mist which reaches to a height of about

3,000 feet. Above this sea of mist the air is clear and the flight of an

aeroplane safe and easy. The course chosen from Belfort to Lake

Constance, a distance of about 125 miles, was bent, like an elbow at an

obtuse angle, round the northern border of Switzerland, so that Swiss

neutrality should not be violated. It lay over country much of which is

wooded and sparsely inhabited--first from Belfort to Muelhausen, thence

over the Black Forest and some groups of wooded peaks to a point north

of Schaffhausen. Here the prescribed course was to bend southwards,

between the two arms of Lake Constance which stretch to the north-west,

and when once the lake was reached the objective would be full in view.

On the 28th of October Lieutenant Pemberton Billing returned to England

to collect men and machines. A squadron of four Avros, with 80

horse-power Gnome engines, had already been formed at Manchester under

Squadron Commander P. Shepherd. The four pilots were:

Squadron Commander E. F. Briggs.

Flight Commander J. T. Babington.

Flight Lieutenant S. V. Sippe.

Flight Sub-Lieutenant R. P. Cannon.

[Illustration: Friedrichshafen Raid.]

There were eleven air mechanics. The machines and stores were shipped at

Southampton for Le Havre and arrived in Belfort by night on the 13th of

November. When he reached Belfort, Squadron Commander Shepherd fell ill;

moreover, the weather was bad, with a falling barometer and a strong

easterly wind. At last, on Saturday, the 21st of November, conditions

improved and the raid took place. At half-past nine in the morning the

four machines were lined up on the western side of the aerodrome to

undergo engine tests and bomb-release tests. They were then dispatched,

at intervals of five minutes, Squadron Commander Briggs, on machine 873,

being followed by Flight Commander Babington on machine 875, and Flight

Lieutenant Sippe on machine 874. Sub-Lieutenant Cannon's machine failed

to rise and broke its tail skid. The other three reached Friedrichshafen

about noon, almost together, and wrought havoc on the Zeppelin works.

Squadron Commander Briggs was brought down by machine-gun fire, which

riddled his petrol tank. The other two returned in safety.

Two accounts of this raid shall be quoted, one from the air, the other

from the ground. Here is Flight Lieutenant Sippe's log:

Attack on Friedrichshafen, 21st November 1914.

'9.55 a.m. Left Belfort. Shaped course for Basle,

following Nos. 873 and 875.

10.25 a.m. Arrived Basle, passed to north, observed

No. 873 going away to south, overtook

No. 875. No. 873 several miles to starboard.

Followed Rhine at height of

about 5,000 feet, keeping to north.

11 a.m. Above clouds in Rhine Valley. No. 873

passed across and took up position ahead

and about a mile to port. Continued

to Schaffhausen, when suddenly lost

sight of 873. No. 875 about two miles

astern and about same height.

11.30 a.m. Arrived extreme end of lake and came

down to within 10 feet of water. Continued

at this height over lake, passing

Constance at a very low altitude, as

considered less likelihood of being seen.

Crossed lake and hugged north shore

until five miles from objective. Started

climb and reached 1,200 feet. Observed

twelve or fourteen shrapnels

bursting slightly north of Friedrichshafen.

Presumed these were directed

against No. 873.

11.55 a.m. When half a mile from sheds put machine

into dive, and came down to 700 feet.

Observed men lined up to right of shed,

number estimated 300-500. Dropped

one bomb in enclosure to put gunners

off aim, and, when in correct position,

two into works and shed. The fourth

bomb failed to release. During this

time very heavy fire, mitrailleuse and

rifle, was being kept up, and shells were

being very rapidly fired. Dived and

flew north until out of range of guns,

then turned back to waterside shed to

try and release fourth bomb. Bomb

would not release; was fired on by two

machine guns (probably mitrailleuse),

dived down to surface of lake and made

good my escape.

1.50 p.m. Arrived Belfort.'

The other account was given by a Swiss engineer who saw the raid from an

hotel near the Zeppelin sheds. He counted nine bombs which fell in an

area of 700 square yards round the works and sheds, and he said the

earth and debris were thrown up to a height of 25 feet. Each machine had

four twenty-pound bombs; one of Flight Lieutenant Sippe's bombs, as has

been seen, failed to release. That leaves two bombs of the twelve to be

accounted for; these fell on the sheds themselves, one greatly damaging

a Zeppelin, the other destroying the gas-works, which exploded and sent

up gigantic flames in the sky. The bombs made the town tremble; the

military officers lost their heads and gave contradictory orders to the

troops. The mitrailleuse section, however, kept cool, and fired from 200

to 250 shots before Squadron Commander Briggs was brought down. The

three British biplanes crossed, recrossed, and circled at such a speed

over Friedrichshafen that many onlookers thought there were six of them.

Squadron Commander Briggs was attacked and injured after landing; when

captured by the military he was nearly fainting, and was transported to

the large Weingarten hospital at Friedrichshafen, where he was tended

with every care. In fact the local officers regarded him with

admiration, much as the British public regarded Captain von Mueller of

the _Emden_.

The damage done was severe, and now that the horse was stolen the German

authorities took every care to lock the stable door. A great network

construction was built above the sheds. The Bavarian regiments and the

night sentinels were doubled; the number of mitrailleuses and

anti-aircraft guns was much increased. Five powerful searchlights were

installed on the hills around the town and were kept at work all night.

Two additional gun-boats were stationed in front of the floating shed.

At eight o'clock every evening all the lights of the town were put out.

Every civilian was compelled to carry a passport, and no foreigners were

allowed to approach. The Zeppelin sheds were not attacked again, but all

the men and all the material required for these additional defences were

kept out of the war by the four hours' adventure of three British

pilots. So true it is that the best defence is attack.

The pilots deserve all praise for their admirable navigation, and the

machines must not be forgotten. There have since been many longer and

greater raids, but this flight of 250 miles, into gunfire, across enemy

country, in the frail little Avro with its humble horse-power, can

compare as an achievement with the best of them, and some part of the

credit must be spared for those who planned it and for those who tended

and prepared the machines. The men on the ground, or in the engine-room,

or in the racing stable, who have no part in the excitement and renown

of action, are the invisible creators of victory.

Shortly after the raid the Swiss Government complained that the British

aviators had flown over Swiss territory, and had thereby violated Swiss

neutrality. Flight Lieutenant Sippe's log, which has been quoted above,

certainly gives some ground for this contention. The British Foreign

Office, in their reply, said that instructions had been given to the

British aviators not to fly over Swiss territory, that it was not their

intention to do so, and that it had been the belief of the Foreign

Office that they had not done so. The British Government assured the

Swiss Government that if Swiss neutrality had been violated it had been

by inadvertence, and expressed their great regret that any British

aeroplanes should have flown over any part of Swiss territory. At the

same time the British Government were careful to point out that the

International Congress of 1910 had failed to come to any agreement as to

the recognition of territory in the air, and that Great Britain's desire

to respect the wishes of the Swiss Government should not be taken as an

admission 'that Great Britain is necessarily bound in all cases to

respect a doctrine which, however it may be viewed by herself, is not

accepted and may not be acted upon by other Powers'. This point of law

has since been settled. The International Air Convention of 1921, which

has been signed by the Allied Powers, sets forth in its first article

'that every Power has complete and exclusive sovereignty over the air

space above its territory'.

The fourth raid into enemy territory, this time by seaplanes, was

carried out on Christmas Day of 1914. How deeply the threat of the

Zeppelins had impressed the public imagination and the minds of those

who were responsible for the Royal Naval Air Service may be seen by

this--that all four naval raids were directed against Zeppelin sheds.

This fourth raid, though it did not succeed in destroying any German

airship, achieved some useful observation, and had the incidental

advantage that it brought the navy into conflict with Zeppelins, and

diminished the portentous respect in which they had been held. Two naval

officers, famous by their achievements in the war--Commodore R. J. B.

Keyes and Commodore R. Y. Tyrwhitt--were in command of the supporting

force. Two light cruisers, with eight destroyers of the Third Flotilla,

sailed from Harwich for the Bight of Heligoland at 5.0 a.m. on Thursday,

the 24th of December, escorting the three seaplane-carriers, each with

three seaplanes aboard. The air was clear and the sea calm, but it was

bitterly cold. The _Arethusa_, preceded by a screen of four destroyers,

led the way; she was followed, at intervals of one and a half cables, or

300 yards, by the _Engadine_ and _Riviera_. A mile behind, with a

similar screen of four destroyers, came the _Undaunted_, followed by the

_Empress_. Two destroyers and ten submarines, under the command of

Commodore Keyes, co-operated with this force, to fend off the attacks of

hostile ships and to pick up the aviators on their return. The purpose

of the raid was to destroy the airship sheds at Cuxhaven, but the

Admiralty were eager to get such information as might be obtainable

without detriment to this purpose, and the seaplanes were instructed to

report, if possible, on the numbers and classes of ships inside the

basin at Wilhelmshaven, or anchored in the Schillig Roads (that is, the

estuary of Wilhelmshaven), or in the mouth of the Elbe. The little fleet

made straight for the Bight and reached a position some twelve miles

north of Heligoland by 6.0 a.m. on Christmas morning. No time was lost

in getting the machines out; seven of the nine got away soon after 7.0

a.m., the other two could not get off the water, and were hoisted in

again. Then the supporting force cruised for some hours off Heligoland

to await the return of the machines. At a very early hour in the morning

it had become evident from the agitated condition of the German wireless

that the presence of the squadron had been discovered, but they were not

attacked by enemy ships of war. A ship was seen approaching from between

Heligoland and the mainland, but she turned back before she could be

identified. At 7.35 a.m. a Zeppelin was seen about ten miles distant,

coming from the direction of Heligoland, and at 7.55 a hostile seaplane

from the same direction. The seaplane attacked the squadron and dropped

four bombs, which were not bad shots, but failed to hit. The squadron

replied with anti-aircraft guns, maxims, and rifles. When the Zeppelin

was within 11,000 yards, fire was opened on her with 6-inch guns and

shrapnel shell at extreme elevation. The _Undaunted_ burst several

shells fairly close to her; she retreated to Heligoland and was not seen

again. Soon after ten o'clock three of the British raiding seaplanes,

having returned from the raid, were sighted and recovered, but the

cruisers continued to await the return of the remaining four. A second

Zeppelin and several hostile seaplanes now approached from the

southward; all dropped bombs without success. The British seaplanes, it

was known, carried fuel sufficient only for a three-hours' flight; when

they had been gone for four and a half hours it was evident that they

were not likely to be in the air, so the cruiser and destroyer squadron,

after searching the waters of the Frisian coast, reluctantly shaped its

course for home. Commodore Tyrwhitt, in his report of the encounter with

the German aircraft, remarks that both Zeppelins practised the same

method of attack, namely, to get behind the line of ships and to drop

their bombs on the fore and aft line. Their speed was great, but they

seemed to suffer from one disability which made them clumsy to handle.

'It was repeatedly noted', he says, 'that the Zeppelins, when altering

course, invariably "wore", and did not appear to be able to turn head to

wind. This made them ridiculously easy to avoid in spite of their speed,

which was surprising.' That is to say, the Zeppelins did not tack.

Perhaps it was their policy to maintain rapid movement, so as not to

present a stationary target. To alter their course in the eye of the

wind they fell off from the wind and, after presenting their stern to

it, came up on the other side. 'The seaplane attacks', the commodore

adds, 'were of a much more active nature, but they do not appear to have

discovered the art of hitting.' German seaplanes, when they approached

end on, were very like British seaplanes, so the order was given to wait

for a bomb to be dropped before opening fire. This order caused

'considerable merriment' among the ships' companies. 'I am quite

convinced', says Commodore Tyrwhitt, 'that, given ordinary sea-room, our

ships have nothing to fear from seaplanes and Zeppelins.'

For eight hours, in perfect weather, the British squadron occupied

German waters just off the principal German naval ports. The Germans

knew the composition of the British force, and as visibility was

extraordinarily good they must have known also that there were no

supports; but their navy made no attempt to interfere with the British

ships.

Three of the four missing pilots returned, and were picked up by

submarine E 11, close to Norderney Gat. They were there attacked by a

hostile airship; the submarine, as soon as it had taken the pilots on

board, was forced to dive, and the machines were abandoned. The missing

pilot, Flight Commander F. E. T. Hewlett, had engine failure, and came

down on the sea near a Dutch trawler; he was picked up and detained for

a time in Holland. The Cuxhaven sheds were not located, but the German

naval ports were pretty thoroughly surveyed, and a good deal of damage

was done by bomb-dropping. Seaplane No. 136, piloted by Flight Commander

C. F. Kilner, with Lieutenant Erskine Childers as observer, flew over

the Schillig Roads, and reported, lying at anchor there, seven

battleships of the _Deutschland_ and _Braunschweig_ classes, three

battle cruisers, apparently the _Seydlitz_, _Moltke_, and _Von der

Tann_, one four-funnelled cruiser, probably the _Roon_, two old light

cruisers of the _Frauenlob_ and _Bremen_ classes, ten destroyers, one

large two-funnelled merchantman or liner, and three ships which appeared

to be colliers. Anti-aircraft guns, firing shrapnel, were used against

the seaplane and very nearly scored a direct hit. On issuing from the

Roads the officers in the seaplane saw a large number of ships in the

northern part of the fairway of the Weser, and two destroyers east of

Wangeroog. As a result of this reconnaissance a part of the German fleet

was moved from Cuxhaven to various places farther up the Kiel canal.

The day before the Cuxhaven raid the Germans made their first raid over

England, and dropped their first bomb on English soil. The air raids

over England during the war were many and serious; they were an

important and characteristic part of the German plan of campaign, and

their story must be told separately. They began with a curious timid

little adventure. On the 21st of December a German aeroplane made its

appearance above Dover; it dropped a bomb which was aimed, no doubt, at

some part of the harbour, but fell harmlessly in the sea. The aeroplane

then went home. Three days later, on the 24th, a single aeroplane again

dropped a bomb, this time on English soil near Dover. This was the

prelude to a formidable series of air raids, which, however, were not

made in strength till well on in the following year.

The close of the year 1914, and of the first five months of the war, saw

the German assault on the European commonwealth held, though not

vanquished. If the German plans had succeeded, the war would have been

over before the coming of the new year. The failure of these plans was

inevitably a longer business. The best-informed judges, from Lord

Kitchener downwards, recognized that this was not a war which could be

ended at a blow. A great nation does not so readily give up the dreams

on which it has been fed for the better part of a hundred years. The

German people had been educated for the war, taught to regard the war as

their brightest hope, to concentrate their imagination on what it might

do for them, and to devote their energies to carrying it through. The

movement of so great a mass of opinion and zeal, when once it has begun,

is not soon reversed. Germany settled down to the business of winning

the war. The Germans had had some partial successes, in the destruction

of a Russian army at Tannenberg, and of a British squadron at Coronel.

They began to realize the immensity of their task, but they still

believed that they could perform it, and that if they could not beat

down the opposing forces, they could wear them down.

Month by month, as the war continued, it spread, and involved nation

after nation. In the first summer Japan came in, and in the first

autumn, Turkey. As the number of Germany's enemies increased, so did the

tale of Great Britain's responsibilities. British troops, during the

course of the war, fought upon every front, against every one of the

Powers allied to Germany; British help in men, or money or material, was

given to every one of Germany's enemies. Already in August 1914 British

naval and military forces were operating in Togoland, in the Cameroons,

and at Dar-es-Salaam in German East Africa. By November Basra, in the

Persian Gulf, was occupied, and the Mesopotamian campaign had begun. In

addition to all these new burdens, the anxieties of administration in

many countries, and especially in Egypt, which owed allegiance to the

Sultan, were increased tenfold by the war. Those who had pleased

themselves with the fancy that Great Britain is an island were rudely

undeceived.

Aircraft had proved their utility, or rather their necessity, in the

campaign on the western front; they were not less needed in all these

distant theatres. In uncivilized or thinly peopled countries a single

squadron of aeroplanes may save the work of whole battalions of

infantry. The great problem of the first year of the war was a problem

of manufacture and training, the problem, indeed, of the creation of

values. With the instruments that we had at the outbreak of war we had

done all that we could, and more than all that we had promised; but what

we had achieved, at the best, was something very like a deadlock. The

war, if it was to be won, could only be won in the workshop and the

training-school. These places are not much in the public eye; but it was

in these places that the nation prepared itself for the decisive

struggle. The New Army, and an air force that ultimately numbered not

hundreds but tens of thousands, emerged from the discipline of

preparation. The process took time; months and even years passed before

its results were apparent. But some account of it must be given at this

point in the story if the events of the later years of the war in the

air are to be made intelligible or credible.

The greatest creation of all, the temper of the new force, was not so

much a creation as a discovery. Good machines and trained men, however

great their number, are not enough to win a war. War is a social affair,

and wars are won by well-knit societies. The community of habits and

ideas which unites civilized mankind is too loose a bond for this

purpose; it has too much in it of mere love of comfort and ease and

diversion. Patriotism will go farther, but for the making of a

first-class fighting force patriotism is not enough. A narrower and

tighter loyalty and a closer companionship are needed, as every regiment

knows, before men will cheerfully go to meet the ultimate realities of

war. They must live together and work together and think together. Their

society must be governed by a high and exacting code, imposed by

consent, as the creed of all. The creation, or the tended growth, of

such a society, that is to say, of the new air force, was one of the

miracles of the war. The recruits of the air were young, some of them no

more than boys. Their training lasted only a few months. They put their

home life behind them, or kept it only as a fortifying memory, and threw

themselves with fervour and abandon into the work to be done. Pride in

their squadron became a part of their religion. The demands made upon

them, which, it might reasonably have been believed, were greater than

human nature can endure, were taken by them as a matter of course; they

fulfilled them, and went beyond. They were not a melancholy company;

they had something of the lightness of the element in which they moved.

Indeed, it would be difficult to find, in the world's history, any body

of fighters who, for sheer gaiety and zest, could hold a candle to them.

They have opened up a new vista for their country and for mankind. Their

story, if it could ever be fully and truly written, is the Epic of

Youth.