THE EXPANSION OF THE AIR FORCE
When the war broke out, the Royal Flying Corps, as has been told, took
the field with all its available forces. The four squadrons which were
ready for service went abroad at once. In their desire to rise to their
great opportunity the officers appointed to command in France made
something like a clean sweep, taking abroad with them almost all the
efficient pilots, and almost all the serviceable machines. There were at
Farnborough at that time a small group of officers belonging to the
newly formed Indian Flying Corps, and another small group training as a
nucleus for a South African Aviation Corps. All these were swept into
the net. Captains H. L. Reilly and D. Le G. Pitcher, of the Indian
Flying Corps, were at once made flying officers of No. 4 Squadron; three
others, that is to say, Captain S. D. Massy (an early pioneer, who had
flown with the Air Battalion during 1911, and was commandant of the
Indian Central Flying School at Sitapur), Captain C. G. Hoare, and
Lieutenant C. L. N. Newall, were posted to squadrons forming at home.
Three officers of the South African Aviation Corps, namely, Lieutenants
K. R. Van der Spuy, E. C. Emmett, and G. S. Creed, were at once
incorporated in Nos. 2, 3, and 5 Squadrons respectively. Two others,
Captain G. P. Wallace and Lieutenant B. H. Turner, joined No. 4 Squadron
in the field early in September. Later on, both groups of officers were
used for operations in distant theatres. When in November 1914 the Turks
were preparing to attack the Suez canal, a flight, consisting of Captain
Massy, Captain Reilly, and Lieutenant S. P. Cockerell, with three
Maurice Farman machines, left England to give to the forces in Egypt the
indispensable aerial support. This small flight was the beginning of the
Middle East Brigade, which, under the command of Major-General W. G. H.
Salmond, played so great a part in the campaigns of Mesopotamia and
Palestine. Again, when in November 1914 the Union Government of South
Africa undertook to invade German South-West Africa, the officers of the
South African Aviation Corps were recalled from their squadrons in
France to provide the needed air force. When that campaign was ended,
these officers returned to England to form No. 26 Squadron of the Royal
Flying Corps, which was immediately dispatched to East Africa, and
co-operated with the forces under the command of General Smuts.
This rapid summary may serve to show how Farnborough, at the outbreak of
war, was a generating centre for the air forces of the British Empire,
and how, until the Germans were held in France, all other purposes had
to be postponed.
Official returns show that with the four squadrons there went to France
105 officers, 755 other ranks, 63 aeroplanes, and 95 mechanical
transport vehicles. At home there remained 41 officers, 116 aeroplanes,
and 23 mechanical transport vehicles. But these latter figures are
misleading. All the experienced officers at home were fully employed on
necessary work, and the hundred and sixteen aeroplanes were impressive
only by their number. About twenty of them, more or less old-fashioned,
were in use at the Central Flying School for purposes of training; the
rest were worn out or broken, and were fit only for the scrap-heap. By
the time that the war was a month old, the efficiency of the machines
which had gone abroad was threatened by the progress of events at the
front. The B.E. 2, which was generally reckoned the best of these
machines, had been designed for the purposes of reconnaissance; it had a
fair degree of stability, and gave the observer a clear view around him
and beneath him. So long as it was not interfered with in the air it was
an admirable machine for the reconnoitring of enemy dispositions and
movements. But the process of interference had begun. During the months
of October and November fighting in the air became fairly frequent. This
fighting had been foreseen, but only as a speculative possibility.
Major-General Seely, speaking on the Air Estimates for 1919-20, told the
House of Commons that he had witnessed the first air combat in France,
one of those referred to in Sir John French's first dispatch, and that
Sir David Henderson had said to him: 'This is the beginning of a fight
which will ultimately end in great battles in the air, in which
hundreds, and possibly thousands, of men may be engaged at heights
varying from 10,000 to 20,000 feet.'
A call for fighting machines soon followed these early combats. On the
4th of September 1914 General Henderson wired home: 'There are no
aeroplanes with the Royal Flying Corps really suitable for carrying
machine-guns; grenades and bombs are therefore at present most suitable.
If suitable aeroplanes are available, machines-guns are better
undoubtedly. Request you to endeavour to supply efficient fighting
machines as soon as possible.' A day or two earlier a request had been
sent home for nine aeroplanes to replace losses, and for a complete new
set of reserve aeroplanes for the Aircraft Park.
War is the only adequate training for war, and it was the necessities of
the war which revealed the needs of the Flying Corps, and gradually, by
hard-won experience, determined the best types of aeroplane and the best
kinds of armament. The enemy, driving with all his might for speedy
victory, allowed no holiday for research and manufacture. What hope was
there that the handful of officers in charge of the few centres of
military aeronautics in England would be able to meet the growing needs
of the campaign in France? The outbreak of war found this country
practically without an aeroplane engine industry. The few British firms
who understood anything about aeroplane manufacture had in time of peace
received only small experimental orders, and so were not organized for
rapid production. The situation might well be called desperate. How
could trained pilots, and machines fit to hold their own in the air, be
produced in sufficient numbers to secure for us not the mastery of the
air--that was too distant a goal--but the power to keep the air, and to
give much-needed assistance to the British army in France?
No one knows what he can do until he tries. If the situation was
desperate, it was also familiar. The English temper is at its best in
desperate situations. The little old army held the pass in France and
Flanders against enormous odds, and so procured time for the building up
of the New Army, the instrument of victory. The Royal Flying Corps, a
small body of highly trained men, kept the air in France, alongside of
the splendid French air service, while a new and greater air force was
brought to birth at home. The creation of this new force was of a piece
with that wonder of the war--the creation of the New Army. In some ways
it was the most difficult part of that great achievement. The new
infantry battalions were made largely by the imitation of a magnificent
model and the repetition of methods proved by many past successes. The
men who brought the Flying Corps to an unexpected strength had to
explore untried ways; the problems presented to them were complicated
and novel; they had no safe models to copy, and no ancient tradition to
follow. They had to cope patiently and resolutely with the most recent
of sciences, and, more than that, they had to procure and train a body
of men who should transform the timid and gradual science into a
confident and rapid art. The engine is the heart of an aeroplane, but
the pilot is its soul. They succeeded so well that at the opening of the
battles of the Somme, on the 1st of July 1916, the Royal Flying Corps
held the mastery of the air, that is to say, they held a predominant
position in the air, and were able to impose their will upon the enemy.
At the date of the armistice, the 11th of November 1918, the united
Royal Air Force was incomparably the strongest air force in the world.
Most of the pilots and observers who were flying at that time are now
scattered in civil employ, but they will never forget the pride of their
old allegiance nor the perils and raptures of their old life in the air.
It is the business of this history to tell of their doings. But before
recording the appearance at the front of squadron after squadron, it is
essential to tell something of the making of these squadrons. The whole
elaborate system which was the basis of the Royal Air Force, the
production of machines and armament and the training of men, was devised
and put in action during the first year of the war. It was elastic in
character, and was capable of great expansion, but its main outlines
were never changed, even when the Royal Flying Corps and the Royal Naval
Air Service, after a divorce of four years, were reunited in 1918.
Englishmen are much in the habit of decrying their own achievements.
This they do, not from modesty, but from a kind of inverted pride. Even
a fair measure of success seems to them a little thing when it is
compared with their own estimate of their abilities. Before the war the
German power of organization was tediously praised in England, and our
own incapacity for organization was tediously censured. There is truth
in the contrast; the Germans love organization and pattern in human
society, both for their own sake and for the rest and support that they
give to the individual. The British hate elaborate organization, and are
willing to accept it only when it is seen to be necessary for achieving
a highly desired end. With the Germans, the individual is the servant of
the society; with us, the society is the servant of the individual, and
is judged by its success, not only in promoting his material welfare,
but in enhancing his opportunities and giving free play to his
character. We do not readily organize ourselves except under the spur of
immediate necessity. But those of us who are honest and frank will never
again say that we cannot organize ourselves. The making of our air force
was a masterpiece of organization. The men who achieved it have earned a
place in the memory of their country.
When military aviation had outgrown its early pupilage to the Royal
Engineers it came under the immediate control of the War Office. It was
dealt with at first by the small committee, under Brigadier-General
Henderson, which had prepared the plans for the formation of the Flying
Corps, and which was continued in being after the Flying Corps was
formed. In November 1912 Captain E. L. Ellington, of the Royal
Artillery, succeeded Major MacInnes as secretary to this committee; in
June 1913 the committee was dissolved, and its work was taken over by a
newly formed section of the Military Training Directorate, with Captain
Ellington in charge. A little later, on the 1st of September 1913, a
Military Aeronautics Directorate was established in the War Office, and
at once took charge of the military air service. It was independent of
the four great departments of the War Office, and the Director-General
of Military Aeronautics dealt in person with the Secretary of State for
War. There were three sections or branches (officially called
subdivisions) of the directorate. The first of these was responsible for
general policy, administration, and training. The second was responsible
for equipment--the provision and inspection of material. The third had
charge of contracts. It was a new departure to place a contracts branch
under the control of a military director-general, but aviation is a
highly technical business, and the arranging of contracts for aircraft
and air engines could not be profitably separated from the other aspects
of the work. In immediate touch with the directorate, and completing the
original organization of military aeronautics, there were the Central
Flying School at Upavon, the Military Wing of the Royal Flying Corps
with its eight authorized squadrons, the Royal Aircraft Factory, and the
Aeronautical Inspection Department.
In July 1914 Brigadier-General Sir David Henderson was Director-General
of Military Aeronautics; Captain Godfrey Paine, R.N., was Commandant of
the Central Flying School; and Lieutenant-Colonel F. H. Sykes was the
Officer Commanding the Military Wing. When the war broke out Sir David
Henderson was appointed to command the Royal Flying Corps in the field,
with Lieutenant-Colonel F. H. Sykes as his Chief of Staff.
Thus, at a time when rapid development was essential if we were to hold
the air, the two most important officers, who had nursed the Flying
Corps from its infancy, were called away to more urgent service. General
Henderson still held his directorship of military aviation. If he
thought the war likely to be short, he was not alone in that belief.
Major Burke's squadron, when they left their quarters at Montrose,
fastened up the doors of their rooms with sealing-wax and tape, and
affixed written instructions that nothing was to be disturbed during
their absence. Meantime, the duties of the directorate and of the home
command of the Flying Corps had to be carried on, at high pressure, in
the face of enormous difficulties. The practical work of the directorate
was undertaken by the little group of staff officers who were familiar
with it, and especially by Major W. S. Brancker, who, on the outbreak of
war, was appointed an Assistant Director of Military Aeronautics, and
soon after became Deputy Director. The command of the Military Wing at
Farnborough was given to Major Hugh Montague Trenchard, and the Royal
Flying Corps had found its destined Chief.
'We should be modest for a modest man,' Charles Lamb somewhere remarks,
'as he is for himself.' But this is no personal question. What is said
of General Trenchard is said of the Flying Corps. The power which Nature
made his own, and which attends him like his shadow, is the power given
him by his singleness of purpose and his faith in the men whom he
commands. He has never called on them to do anything that he would not
do himself, if he were not very unfortunately condemned, as he once told
the pilots of a squadron, to go about in a Rolls-Royce car and to sit in
a comfortable chair. He has never thought any deed of sacrifice and
devotion too great for their powers. His faith in them was justified.
Speaking, in 1918, to a squadron of the Independent Force, newly brought
to the neighbourhood of Nancy for the bombing of the munition factories
of Germany, he reminded them that if sending them all at once across the
lines, never to return, would shorten the war by a week, it would be his
duty to send them. The pilots listened to him with pride. He had their
confidence, as they had his. 'Don't cramp the pilots into never
talking,' is one of his advices to commanders, and the system whereby
the pilots and observers, returning dazed and exhausted from a raid or a
fight in the air, were brought to the office of the aerodrome and
encouraged by sympathetic questions to tell what they had seen and done,
was a system which grew up at once under his command. His intuitive
understanding of the men who served under him, his quickness in learning
the lessons of experience, and his resourcefulness and daring in
immediately applying these lessons for the bettering of the Flying
Corps, have been worth many brigades to his country. His name will occur
often in this record, but here, at his first entry, he must be
introduced to the reader.
He was born in 1873, the son of Captain Montague Trenchard, of the
King's Own Yorkshire Light Infantry. He was educated privately, and
after several failures in examination entered the army by way of the
militia, receiving his commission as a second lieutenant in the Royal
Scots Fusiliers. After some years in India he served in the South
African War, at first with the Imperial Yeomanry Bushman Corps, and
later with the Canadian Scouts. During the operations west of Pretoria,
in the autumn of 1900, he was dangerously wounded, but served again,
during the concluding years of the war, with the mounted infantry in the
Transvaal, the Orange River Colony, and the Cape Colony. There followed
a period of distinguished service in Nigeria, and then he was at home
for a time. In February 1912, three months before the Royal Flying Corps
came into being, he applied for employment with the mounted branch of
the Colonial Defence Forces, in Australia, or New Zealand, or South
Africa. In May he applied for employment with the Macedonian
Gendarmerie. These applications were noted for consideration at the War
Office; in the meantime his mind turned to the newly-formed Flying
Corps. Mr. T. O. M. Sopwith tells the story of how he learned to fly.
'Major Trenchard (as he was then) arrived at my School at Brooklands
one morning in August 1912. He told me that the War Office had given him
ten days in which to learn to fly and pass his tests for an aviator's
certificate, adding that if he could not pass by that date he would be
over age. It was no easy performance to undertake, but Major Trenchard
tackled it with a wonderful spirit. He was out at dawn every morning,
and only too keen to do anything to expedite tuition. He passed in about
one week from first going into the air as a passenger. He was a model
pupil from whom many younger men should have taken a lead.'
On the 13th of August 1912 he took his certificate, flying a Farman
machine. Then he went to the Central Flying School, where he took the
necessary courses and passed the necessary examination. On the 1st of
October he was appointed instructor on the staff of the school. These
were arduous times; an efficient British air force was yet to make, and
the political horizon was even more threatening than it was a year
later. He continued at this work till the 23rd of September 1913, when
he was appointed assistant commandant to Captain Godfrey Paine, a post
which he held up to the outbreak of war. By that time a very large
proportion of the officers of the Flying Corps had passed through his
hands. His policy was the policy of Thorough. He played his part in
producing the efficiency of the original Flying Corps.
On the 7th of August 1914 he was appointed Officer Commanding the Royal
Flying Corps (Military Wing), with the temporary rank of
lieutenant-colonel. The headquarters, the aircraft park, and the four
squadrons left for France at once. Mr. G. B. Cockburn at that time was
at Farnborough, where, from April onwards, he had held an appointment in
the Aeronautical Inspection Department. He has kindly contributed a
note:
'The squadrons hurried off to the front,' he says, and in a short time
there remained practically nothing in the way of machines or pilots in
the country. Colonel Trenchard took charge to create something out of
nothing. His presence at Farnborough had a most enlivening effect on
every one who came in touch with him, and as I had to pass through to
him all the machines issued in those days, it was my good fortune to
have very close observation of those methods which have led to his great
success.'
In his attempt to create something out of nothing he had the
whole-hearted support and help of the small but admirably efficient
aeronautical department of the War Office, directed for the time by
Colonel Brancker. One great strength of military aviation in its early
days was that it attracted into its service, by natural magnetism, men
of an adventurous disposition. The dangers of the Flying Corps, rather
than the good pay that it offered, brought to it recruits strong in all
the virtues of the pioneer. No one who covets a life of routine, with
defined duties and limited liabilities, ever yet took up with aviation
as a profession. The men who explored and took possession of the air in
the twentieth century are the inheritors of the men who explored and
took possession of America in the sixteenth century. It is one of our
chief title-deeds as a nation that adventurers are very numerous among
us. We were not the first to show the way, in either case, but because
we are a breeding-ground of adventurers we are richer than other nations
in the required type of character, and we soon outgo them. When the war
came there was a long list of officers and men who were seeking
admission to the Flying Corps--the best of them as good as could be
found in the world. The very staff of the directorate at the War Office
had the same quality. They were men of spirit and initiative, not
easily to be bound by red tape. A short account of Colonel Brancker, who
was Colonel Trenchard's main support, will illustrate this special good
fortune of the Flying Corps.
Major-General Sir William Sefton Brancker, as he now is, began his
soldiering in the Royal Artillery. He saw much active service in the
South African War, and thereafter was chosen for staff service in India.
His opportunity came in the winter of 1910. In that year the British and
Colonial Aeroplane Company, in order to demonstrate the new art to the
General Staff in India, sent out to Calcutta an expedition consisting of
a manager, the French pilot Monsieur H. Jullerot, two British mechanics,
and three Bristol box-kites fitted with 50 horse-power Gnome engines.
Captain Brancker, as Quartermaster-General of the Presidency Brigade,
was responsible for the disembarkation of the party. What he had already
heard of flying had excited his keen interest; he attached himself
firmly to the expedition, and was permitted to fly, unofficially, in the
character of observer. The first aeroplane was erected on the Calcutta
racecourse, and flew in the presence of a huge crowd of spectators.
There were cavalry manoeuvres that year in the Deccan, and General
Rimington, who was organizing them, set aside a part of his manoeuvre
grant to enable Captain Brancker to bring an aeroplane and take part in
them. The aeroplane arrived at Aurangabad early in January 1911, and was
hastily erected under a tree by the two mechanics, assisted by six
willing and jocular privates of the Dublin Fusiliers. It was ready
forty-eight hours after detrainment, just in the nick of time. The first
flight was made by M. Jullerot and Captain Brancker, the day before the
manoeuvres began, in the presence of twelve generals, one of whom was
Sir Douglas Haig, at that time Chief of the Staff in India, and a
numerous company of staff officers. Next morning the aeroplane was
attached to the northern force at Aurangabad, whose task was to drive
back the rearguard of a southern force retreating towards Jalna. Captain
Brancker and M. Jullerot made a flight of about twenty-seven miles at a
height of 1,100 feet, and the hostile rearguard was accurately located.
A full report was in the hands of the commander of the northern force in
less than an hour and a half from the time of his demand for
information.
Subsequent flights were less successful; indeed, the next morning the
aeroplane crashed from a height of a hundred feet; the two aviators
escaped with a few scratches, but the machine was reduced to matchwood.
Nevertheless, the first thorough performance by a military aeroplane of
a really practical military mission deeply impressed General Sir O'Moore
Creagh, the then Commander-in-Chief, and, had it not been for lack of
money, he would have started a flying organization in India a year
before the Flying Corps in England came into being.
Not long after his return to England, Major Brancker was employed at the
War Office under General Henderson. As soon as the opportunity presented
itself, he learned to fly. He took the short course at the Central
Flying School and was appointed to the Royal Flying Corps Reserve. In
October 1913 he succeeded Captain Ellington on the staff of the Military
Aeronautics Directorate. He continued to fly. The first really stable
aeroplane, the B.E. 2c, was produced in June 1914; and Major Brancker,
who describes himself as 'a very moderate pilot', flew the first of the
type from Farnborough to Upavon, without the use of his hands except to
throttle back the engine before alighting; during the flight he wrote a
full reconnaissance report.
These then, Lieutenant-Colonel Trenchard and Lieutenant-Colonel
Brancker, were the two officers on whom fell the chief burden of
responsibility at home for the maintenance and increase of the Flying
Corps. Others gave invaluable help; but these were the prime movers. The
maintenance of the squadrons in the field, that is, the replacing of
wastage in pilots and machines, was all that was originally expected of
them by the command of the Royal Flying Corps in France. When, just
after the outbreak of war, Lord Kitchener took control of the War
Office, the creation of new squadrons at once became a question of the
first importance. Lord Kitchener has many titles to the gratitude of his
country, none of them stronger than this, that he recognized the
immensity of the war. The day after the four squadrons took their
departure for France he sent for Lieutenant-Colonel Brancker in the War
Office, explained to him his policy for the creation of the New Army,
and told him that a large number of new squadrons would be required to
equip that army.
The position was serious. Farnborough was now the only station occupied
by the Royal Flying Corps; it had an assemblage of half-trained and
inefficient pilots, and a collection of inferior aeroplanes, discarded
as useless by the squadrons which had gone overseas. The Central Flying
School itself had been heavily depleted. There was a grave shortage of
mechanics. But the officers in charge were not to be disheartened; and
they had one advantage, without which the most complete material
preparation would have been of no avail--they had the nation behind
them. The invasion of Belgium by German troops during the first few
weeks of war, and the ordered cruelties inflicted by those troops on a
helpless population, set England on fire; never since the old war with
Spain had the fervour of national indignation reached so white a heat.
Except the unfit and the eccentric, it might almost be said, there were
no civilians left; the nation made the war its own, and miracles of
recruiting and training became the order of every day.
The Directorate of Military Aeronautics took the bull by the horns;
without Treasury sanction, on their own initiative, they began to enlist
civilian mechanics at the rates authorized for the Army Service Corps,
up to 10_s._ a day. In a very few days they had got together eleven
hundred good men, trained mechanics, who eventually became the main
support of the squadrons which were created during the next two years.
They also enlisted some civilian pilots. It was their intention to grade
these pilots as non-commissioned officers, but the Admiralty meantime
decided to give commissions to all pilots recruited from the civil
population, which decision forced the hand of the military. Thus, in the
first few days of the war, the question of the rank of pilots was
settled at a blow, and it was not until much later in the war that
non-commissioned officers were again employed as pilots.
A definite scheme for the steady recruitment of expert mechanics, so
many a month, at peace rates of pay, was then laid down by the
directorate. Naturally, at the beginning, large numbers could not be
absorbed, and as there was no system of control to allot recruits to the
work for which they were specially suited, very many of the best
mechanics in the country, inspired by patriotism, enlisted in the ranks
of the infantry, and were lost to the technical service for ever. These
men would have been of inestimable value for the expansion of the Flying
Corps, but no system of classification existed, to meet the needs of a
nation in arms. The New Army engulfed men of all professions and all
crafts; never, perhaps, in the world's history was there an army richer
in diversity of skill. If special services were required from a
bacteriologist, or a conjurer, an appeal to the rank and file of the
New Army was seldom made in vain. Trained mechanics were glad to forgo
all the advantages of their training, and, in their country's cause, to
handle a rifle and a bayonet.
The procuring of a sufficient number of expert men for the sheds was
only one part of the business of the directorate. They had also to
procure and train a large number of pilots, and to arrange for the
supply of a very large number of aeroplanes and engines. Until the
machine is there, to be tended and flown, there is nothing for pilot or
mechanic to do, so the question of the machines naturally came first. As
soon as the four squadrons of the expeditionary force had left England,
Colonel Brancker conferred with Captain Sueter, the Director of the Air
Department in the Admiralty. It was agreed between them provisionally
that all aeroplanes available in the British Isles should at once be
allotted to the War Office, and all seaplanes to the Admiralty. It was
further agreed that all engines of 100 horse-power and less, together
with the 120 horse-power Beardmore engine, should be allotted to the War
Office, and that engines of higher horse-power, together with a certain
number, for training purposes, of lower-powered engines, should be
allotted to the Admiralty. Both services recognized the urgent need for
a water-cooled engine of high power, and the two directors combined to
persuade Messrs. Rolls-Royce to produce a 250 horse-power water-cooled
engine. The experts of the Royal Aircraft Factory gave all possible
help; they lent the drawings prepared for the high-powered engine
designed by the factory, and so became sponsors for the famous
Rolls-Royce engines of the later days of the war. The output of the
Rolls-Royce works, in accordance with the agreement, was placed at the
disposal of the Admiralty.
This immediate co-operation between the two great services did the work
of the old Air Committee, which had quietly faded away. The War
Committee could not take its place; it was a large body of Ministers,
too numerous to agree on special decisions, and not expert enough to
deal with the complicated problems of aviation. The understanding
between the two services seemed to augur well for the future.
The available contractors and types of engine having been allotted, it
became necessary to decide what orders should be placed. In this matter
the initiative rested with the directorate. Very little experience was
available as a guide to what the expeditionary force might require in
the future. Every order placed was practically a gamble, and every new
type of aircraft and engine gave the staff twofold cause for anxiety.
Would the new machine prove reliable when the trade produced it, and, if
it proved reliable, would it then fulfil the rapidly changing
requirements of the war? The quickest way to produce aeroplanes in
quantity would have been to choose a few of the best types, and to
standardize these for production in bulk at all the available factories.
To do this would have been a fatal mistake. The art of military aviation
was changing and growing rapidly; any hard and fast system would have
proved a huge barrier to progress, making it impossible to take
advantage of the lessons taught every week by experience in the field.
At a later stage of the war the Germans standardized their excellent
Mercedes engine. This gave them an immediate advantage, but, as
knowledge increased and construction improved, what had been an
advantage became a brake upon their progress.
Even the lessons of experience were not always easy to read. An
aeroplane and its engine are judged by the pilot who uses them. Every
one who knows the Royal Flying Corps knows how sensitive to rumour and
how contagious opinion is among pilots. This is only natural; a pilot
trusts his life to his machine, and his machine, if he is to fly and
fight confidently, must be, like Caesar's wife, above suspicion. To
distrust the machine is to suffer a kind of paralysis in the air. The
breath of unfavourable rumour easily takes away the character of a
machine, and makes it, in effect, valueless. A pilot has one life, and
has to take many risks; this is the only risk that he will not take
gladly. It follows that the opinion of pilots concerning their machines
is peculiarly liable to error. They talk to one another, and an ill
report spreads like wildfire. When the Sopwith Tabloid was first
produced, it was unfavourably reported on by those who flew it, and at
once fell into disrepute throughout the squadrons. The fact is that the
pilots of that time were not good enough for the machine; if they had
stuck to it, and learnt its ways, they would soon have sworn by it as,
later on in the war, they swore by the Sopwith Camel. A similar ill
repute attached itself, like an invisible label, to the De Havilland
machine called the D.H. 2. This machine, when it made its first
appearance at the front, was nicknamed 'The Spinning Incinerator'. Like
many other machines which are quick to respond to control, the D.H. 2
very easily fell into a spin, and in one accident of this kind it had
caught fire. In February 1916, when the Fokker menace was at its height,
No. 24 Squadron--the first British squadron of single-seater fighting
scouts--arrived in France. It was equipped with D.H. 2's, and the pilots
of the Fokkers had no reason to think the D.H. 2 an inferior machine.
The historian of No. 24 Squadron says:
'A certain amount of trouble was caused at first through the ease with
which these machines used to "spin"--a manoeuvre not at that time
understood--and several casualties resulted. Lieutenant Cowan did much
to inspire confidence by the facility with which he handled his machine.
He was the first pilot really to "stunt" this machine, and gradually the
squadron gained complete assurance.'
Nerves are tense in war, and a mishap at the front usually led to an
immediate demand for new material or a new policy from those at home who
supplied the expeditionary force. Major-General Sir Sefton Brancker, in
his notes on the early part of the war, mentions three of these quick
demands. When the aeroplane piloted by Lieutenant Waterfall was brought
down by infantry fire in Belgium, this first mishap of the kind led to
an immediate demand for armoured aeroplanes. The demand was not
fulfilled until 1918, and then only in a special type of machine,
designed for low flying. Again, the alarm of the 1st of September 1914,
when the machines of the Flying Corps, being unable to fly by night, ran
the risk of capture by German cavalry, led to a demand for folding
aeroplanes suitable for towing along the road. This demand was never
met. Lastly, the rapid movement of the retreat caused a report to be
sent home that the canvas sheds on wooden frameworks, called Bessoneaux
hangars, were useless. With the coming of trench warfare more stable
conditions prevailed, and Bessoneaux hangars housed the Royal Flying
Corps in great comfort throughout the war.
Incidents like these serve to show how great was the responsibility
which rested on the home command. Fortunately, the home command were
cool and far-sighted. Colonel Trenchard was the last man in the world to
subordinate life to mechanism; and Colonel Brancker knew how to fly
without fidgeting with the controls.
The resources to hand were not many. A certain small number of
aeroplanes, in July 1914, were actually on order, and were being
manufactured in slow and uncertain fashion. These belonged to several
types. The earlier variants of the B.E. 2 machine were of Government
design. Of proprietary designs, on order or in process of delivery, the
most important at that time were the British Sopwith and Avro machines,
and the French Maurice Farmans, Henri Farmans, and Bleriots, which were
erected in England from parts supplied by France. Certain new types--the
F.E. 2 (a pusher biplane), the R.E. 5 (a tractor two-seater bombing
machine), the S.E. 2 (a single-seater tractor scout), the Vickers
fighter, the Bristol scout, and several others--were hardly past the
experimental stage. Some were in process of design; others were
represented by a few experimental machines. In the matter of engines,
the factory was engaged in designing its own, and a few British
proprietary designs had been tried, but without sufficient success to
warrant an order. In fact, the Royal Flying Corps had to depend entirely
on French engines, that is to say, on the 70 horse-power Renault and the
80 horse-power Gnome. Large purchases of these engines were made during
the week before the declaration of war; indeed, the whole of the funds
available were spent twice over in anticipation of further credits.
When the war came, Avros, Farmans, and Bleriots were ordered to the full
capacity of the factories that produced them. Vickers fighters were also
ordered in numbers, though the latest model of the machine was untried,
and though there was no certainty that the necessary 100 horse-power
Monosoupape-Gnome engine could be obtained, or that when obtained it
would run reliably. On the advice of the superintendent of the Royal
Aircraft Factory it was decided to choose B.E. 2c for production in bulk
rather than the earlier variants of the same type. This involved some
little delay, for the drawings were not complete, but the superiority of
the machine in construction, performance, and stability was judged to
be worth the delay. Some firms which had never before touched aviation
took large orders for this machine; the earliest to lend their services
were the Daimler Company and Weir Brothers of Glasgow. For fighting
purposes the F.E. 2, a two-seater pusher, which gave a clear field of
fire forward, was chosen, and the drawings were pushed on at top speed.
Smaller orders were placed among private firms for untried types of
single-seater fighters, especially the Bristol scout and the Martinsyde
scout. Messrs. Armstrong Whitworth, on receiving orders for B.E. 2 c's,
undertook to produce an equally efficient and more easily manufactured
aeroplane, and received permission to do so. Thus, before any definite
policy could be laid down, and while experience gained in the field was
still very small, the production of a large number of aircraft and air
engines had been set on foot in England. Until the orders placed should
begin to bear fruit, the Farman pusher machines, which could mount a
machine-gun with a clear field of fire in front, were the only suitable
fighting machines.
The enlisting and training of pilots, in numbers sufficient for the
creation of new squadrons when the wastage in the field had been made
good, was a matter of pressing concern. The only expert military pilots
available as instructors were those employed at the Central Flying
School. These were reinforced, first by certain civilian pilots who at
once offered their services, and then, about the end of September, by
the return from France of Major Longcroft and some other military pilots
who in response to urgent requests were spared from the expeditionary
force. A reserve aeroplane squadron was at once formed at Farnborough,
and a large training scheme was initiated. The aerodromes at Netheravon,
Gosport, Montrose, and Dover (this last still in process of making) were
empty. Montrose, being far from London and from France, was handed over
to the army; the others were made into training stations. Brooklands and
Hounslow were taken over, and, during September, Shoreham and Joyce
Green. New aerodromes were established at Norwich, Castle Bromwich,
Beaulieu, Catterick, and Northolt. Each of these, it was decided, should
be occupied by a reserve squadron, which, besides the regular work of
training pilots, should prepare to throw off an active service squadron.
The policy of distributing the new training stations all over England
was decided on for several reasons. The congestion and delay inevitable
at a few crowded centres would be avoided. The complete arrest of
training by bad weather in one place would be insured against. The
scattered aerodromes would be useful halting-places for new machines
delivered by air; and, not least important, the New Army, training in
various parts of England, would see something of aviation and would gain
some knowledge of its uses. The chief disadvantage of the system was
temporary; the available talent in instructors was scattered, so that a
larger number of instructors was required.
In all these arrangements Lord Kitchener took a keen and detailed
interest. He saw Colonel Brancker almost every day. He insisted on the
creation of new units as a matter of the first importance. He
investigated the possibilities of long-range bombing offensives against
Germany, and continually urged the development of aircraft with a fuel
endurance and a carrying capacity sufficient for a raid upon Essen. For
this purpose he knew that trained and disciplined flights would be
required, and he gave orders that formation flying was to be taught and
practised at once. He did not fully understand the crippling effect of
the shortage of pilots and the inefficiency of the available aircraft.
Soon after the outbreak of war he said to Colonel Trenchard:
'Trenchard, when I come down to Farnborough I want to see machines
flying in formation.'
'But that is impossible,' said Colonel Trenchard. 'The machines are all
of different types and different performances; we cannot fly in
formation.'
'Trenchard, when I come down to Farnborough I want to see machines
flying in formation.'
'But, Sir, it cannot be done.'
'Trenchard, when I come down to Farnborough, you will have four machines
paraded for me, to fly in formation.'
Lord Kitchener's foresight was unerring, and his will was strong, but
the facts were too stubborn even for him. It proved impossible to fly
our machines in formation until about a year later. The first formation
flying seen over England during the war occurred on the 23rd of February
1915, when H.M.S. _Hearty_ reported seven German aeroplanes flying very
high over the Maplin Lightship, just off the coast of Essex.
The value of Lord Kitchener's support was immense. In the early months
of 1915 an order of battle for the New Army was produced, showing its
organization in corps and divisions. Colonel Brancker, when he saw this
order, reckoned that at the rate of one artillery reconnaissance
squadron for each division, and two or three fighting and reconnaissance
squadrons for each corps, at least fifty service squadrons would be
required. This, while the system of training was not yet in full working
order, and while the output of engines and aeroplanes was still so
small, seemed a very ambitious programme. But the squadrons were needed,
so a minute to that effect was circulated among the departments
concerned, who promptly added to it their remarks and comments, all
critical and sceptical. At last the paper reached the Secretary of State
for War, who, without an hour's delay, sent it straight back by hand to
the Deputy Director of Military Aeronautics, bearing an inscription
scribbled at the foot--'Double this. K.' These two words, initialled,
swept away all conservative and financial obstruction; from that time
forward the main difficulty was to prevent the development of the
squadrons from running so far ahead of the output of material as to
weaken the whole structure. The hundred squadrons took a long time to
make; but before the war ended a still more generous programme, with
provision for more than two hundred squadrons in the field, was in
process of fulfilment.
No account can be given here of all the difficulties, problems, and
mishaps which had to be faced, not only at Farnborough or in the War
Office, but at the stations all over the country, in the building up of
the squadrons. The building went on, and those who did their work on
it--the civilian and mechanic volunteers, the novices who learned their
business only to teach it again to others, the men of special knowledge,
trained engineers, experts in wireless telegraphy, photography, and
gunnery, who by their work on the ground contributed to the efficiency
of the work to be done in the air--have a living monument in the
existence of the Royal Air Force. The material which lay ready to their
hands was little in quantity, but some of it was very good, and served
well to set a standard. British aviation was a small and late
development compared with the achievement of the French; but the skill
and science of the Royal Aircraft Factory, and of the best of the
private firms, had already given it a name for safety, quality, and
performance, and the zeal and character of its new recruits assured its
continued increase and multiplied its merits. What was needed now was a
plan for the building. Bricks and mortar, however good, and labour,
however willing, are of no effect until they are disposed by the skill
of the architect. It was the happiness of the Royal Flying Corps that
that skill was not lacking. Those who designed the work to be executed
in human material were worthy of their opportunity. It is not always so.
There were many military misadventures in our history which give point
to the criticism of the famous French cook, who, when he saw the beef
and chickens of England, wept to think of the uses to which that
magnificent material would be put by the resolute monotony of British
cooking.
Long before the new squadrons were ready a plan had been made for using
them, and controlling them, to the best advantage. The command of the
Flying Corps were very quick to learn and apply the lessons of
experience. These lessons, though not very many, were very important. By
the end of October 1914, all the squadrons of the Royal Flying Corps in
the field were settled down in the area of the British army, which held
a line running from Givenchy to Zonnebeke. The duties of the Flying
Corps had thus become local in character, so that knowledge of the
particular piece of country over which they did their work now became
very important for pilots and observers. To enable the several army
corps and divisions to obtain full value from the services of the Flying
Corps it was necessary that the squadrons should be put into touch
directly with the corps commanders. A central command cannot judge the
necessities of the case as those on the spot can judge it; and much time
is lost in sending messages to and fro. Corps commanders were already
calling for squadrons to be put at their disposal for observation and
photography. A scheme was worked out whereby squadrons were arranged in
groups of from two to four squadrons, each group being called a wing.
The scheme was accepted by the command of the expeditionary force, and
came into operation in November 1914. Already the new arrangement had
been anticipated in practice. During the battles of Ypres in 1914, it
had been found necessary to detach squadrons, instead of flights, to
co-operate with the several army corps; and these squadrons, instead of
returning at night to the central landing-place at the Flying Corps
headquarters, as they did during the battles of the Marne and the Aisne,
remained permanently with the army corps which they were helping. The
new scheme regularized and extended this practice.
The creation of wings involved some transfers and promotions. The First
Wing, intended to operate with the Indian Corps and the Fourth Army
Corps, consisted of Squadrons Nos. 2 and 3; the command was given to
Lieutenant-Colonel H. M. Trenchard, who came to St.-Omer on the 18th of
November. The Second Wing, intended to operate with the Second and Third
Army Corps, consisted of Squadrons Nos. 5 and 6, and was commanded by
Lieutenant-Colonel C. J. Burke.
No. 4 Squadron and the wireless unit (afterwards No. 9 Squadron) were
kept under the direct control of the Royal Flying Corps headquarters.
Shortly before the battle of Neuve-Chapelle the Third Wing was formed
under Lieutenant-Colonel H. R. M. Brooke-Popham, and No. 9 Squadron was
dispersed amongst the other squadrons. What had been the Military Wing
at Farnborough was now decentralized into two separate commands--the
Administrative Wing and the Fourth Wing--each controlled directly by the
War Office. The Administrative Wing, with headquarters at Farnborough,
consisting of Nos. 1 and 2 Reserve Aeroplane Squadrons, the Depot, the
Aircraft Park, and the Record Office, was placed under the command of
Lieutenant-Colonel E. B. Ashmore, who was transferred from the staff of
the General Officer Commanding the Home Forces. The Fourth Wing, with
headquarters at Netheravon, was placed under the command of
Lieutenant-Colonel J. F. A. Higgins, who had commanded No. 5 Squadron in
France, and had been wounded, on the 30th of October, in the air above
Bailleul. This wing consisted of Nos. 1 and 7 Squadrons, preparing for
service in France.
The institution of wings was a great step in advance, and made it easy
to provide for later additions to the strength of the Flying Corps. When
the newly-formed squadrons began to appear in number, they were formed
into wings, and the wings themselves, in the winter of 1915-16, were
combined in pairs to form brigades. The brigade became a self-sufficient
unit, to work with an army; it was commanded by a brigadier-general, and
comprised, besides the two aeroplane wings, a third wing for kite
balloons, an aircraft park, and everything necessary for a complete
aerial force. Further, when fighting in the air became all-important,
whole wings were made up of fighting squadrons, and these wings were
symmetrically paired with other wings made up of squadrons designed for
artillery co-operation, close reconnaissance, and photography. The wing
which carried out long reconnaissances and offensive patrols, bombing
the enemy, attacking him in the air, and, in effect, protecting the
machines which did their observation work above the lines, was called
the army wing, and worked for army headquarters. The wing which observed
and photographed for the corps command, reporting on the character of
the enemy defences, the movement of troops, and, above all, the effects
of our artillery fire, was called the corps wing, and worked for corps
headquarters.
This powerful organization of the later years of the war was achieved by
a natural and easy expansion of the system of wings. In the early days
of the war machines of various types were included in one squadron; then
uniform squadrons of various types were included in one wing; at last,
wings of various types were included in one brigade. The Flying Corps
grew and increased in close correspondence with the army to which it
lent essential aid. The institution of wings was a formal recognition of
the necessity of its services. This recognition had taken some little
time to achieve. Military aviation was a wholly new thing, quite
unfamiliar to many an old soldier. There was a certain shyness at first
between the army and the Flying Corps. The command of the army did not
always ask for help from the air, and the command of the Flying Corps
did not always offer it. When the squadrons got into touch with the
corps commands, and did work for the artillery and the infantry, their
value was proved beyond a doubt.
The commanding officer of a wing was given the rank of
lieutenant-colonel. To assist him he had an adjutant and an equipment
officer. The introduction of equipment officers into the Royal Flying
Corps involved a new departure. Up to this time the rule had been that
all officers in the Flying Corps, whether employed on the ground or in
the air, must learn to fly. But to apply this rule, in time of war, to
officers whose duties would never take them off the ground, and who
would have to learn at schools already more than fully occupied with
training pilots, seemed a waste of energy. There were, for instance,
many trained engineers, in civil life, who were eminently capable of
supervising the mechanical equipment, but who did not want to learn to
fly, and could be made into indifferent pilots only at a great expense
of time and labour, and at not a little risk. At first the equipment
officer was concerned only with stores, but soon the same grading was
given to specialist officers concerned with wireless telegraphy,
photography, or machine-guns. At a later time in the war some senior
officers, skilled in the handling of men, learned to fly, and were at
once given the command of squadrons. A man with a talent for command,
who can teach and maintain discipline, encourage his subordinates, and
organize the work to be done, will have a good squadron, and is free
from those insidious temptations which so easily beset commanding
officers who have earned distinction as pilots. Yet the instinct of the
Royal Air Force is strong--that a commanding officer should know the
air, if he is to control aircraft. The right solution, no doubt, is that
he should be able to fly well, and should be careful not to fly too
much. A born commander who cannot fly is likely to have a better
squadron than a born flyer who cannot command.
Technical matters, that is to say, all matters of design and equipment,
were controlled by the War Office. This cast a great responsibility on
the War Office, and might have worked unhappily, if the authorities at
home had concentrated their attention on mechanical improvements without
sufficient regard to the men who had to use them. But the two officers
who, in the beginning, were chiefly responsible for development at home
subsequently held commands in the field, so that theory was not divorced
from practice. Colonel Trenchard was the first officer in the Royal
Flying Corps to command a wing, and Colonel Brancker, at a later time,
from August to December, 1915, was given the command of the Third Wing
in France.
The whole development and expansion of the Royal Flying Corps in France
was carried on while the conditions were altering every month, at high
pressure, in rivalry with the Germans. It was a race to obtain machines
of the greatest possible speed consistent with reliability. But no
machine is reliable when it is first turned out. Only experience can
prove a mechanism, discover its faults, and teach the right method of
handling it. This experience had to be gained in war. The conditions of
success were never at a stay. As soon as a machine was tried and proved,
and the faults of its engine corrected, so that it became comparatively
reliable, a faster German machine appeared. This had a depressing effect
on the pilot, who, though he had been well satisfied with his own
machine, could find no words too bad for it when a German machine left
him standing in the air. After a time a new British machine would
appear, and in its turn would outgo the German. In the meantime the
important thing was to maintain the spirit of the pilot. It was the
wisdom of General Trenchard to know that our success depended upon this.
In his own words, he sacrificed everything to morale. To think only of
dangers and drawbacks, to make much of the points in which the Germans
had attained a fleeting superiority, to lay stress on the imperfections
of our own equipment--all this, he knew, was to invite defeat. Just
before the battles of the Somme, in 1916, a lively agitation of these
matters was carried on by the newspaper press in England. Major Maurice
Baring, in his published diary, has recorded that the results of this
agitation were--not the hastening of one bolt, turnbuckle, or split-pin
(for the factories were fully at work), but a real danger of the spread
of alarm and despondency among the younger members of the Flying Corps
in France. More than any other man, General Trenchard averted this
danger. He put confidence into the pilots. He knew that if their hearts
were not light they would do worse than die; and he fostered in them, by
sympathy, the feelings which make for life and are life. Inferiority in
engines and machines could be remedied in time, inferiority in
resolution and confidence would have been irremediable.
Among the points which were early brought home by the experience of the
war to those who had control of the production of machines, one or two
deserve special mention. The absolute necessity for an efficient
fighting aeroplane was realized, it has been seen, within a month. The
enormous value of artillery observation and the immense superiority of
wireless telegraphy over all earlier and more rudimentary kinds of
signalling were soon demonstrated, and the call for machines fitted with
wireless became insistent. Some of the pilots and some of the equipment
of the wireless section which existed before mobilization had been used
to bring the squadrons of the expeditionary force up to war strength.
The section, though much emaciated, was not allowed to lapse; it was
attached to No. 4 Squadron, and went out with it to France. The pilots
of this section, Lieutenants Lewis, James, and Winfield Smith, worked
with the squadron, but spent most of their time in making ready the
wireless telegraphy equipment which, when once the retreat was ended and
ground stations were established on a fixed front, came into effective
use. Again, the very rapid development of an efficient German
anti-aircraft service, and the equally rapid improvement in range and
accuracy of anti-aircraft guns, changed the conditions of
reconnaissance. In the almost pastoral simplicity of the first days of
the war, four thousand feet was held to be a sufficient height for
immunity from the effect of fire from the ground. Before long four times
that height gave no such immunity. Machines, therefore, had to be built
to climb quickly, and had to be given a higher 'ceiling', as it is
called; that is, they had to be able to maintain level flight in a more
rarefied medium. But observation with the human eye from a height of
several miles is almost useless for the detective work of military
reconnaissance. So it came about that the improvement of the enemy's
anti-aircraft artillery gave a direct impulse to the improvement of our
aerial photography. A photograph, taken in a good light and enlarged,
reveals many things invisible to the naked eye; a series of photographs
reveals those changes in the appearance of the earth's surface which
result from the digging of new trenches or gun-positions and the making
of new ammunition-dumps.
Improvements in mechanical science, to be of any use in war, depend on
the skill and practice of those who use them. General Trenchard never
forgot this. He thought first of the pilot, and then of the gadgets.
'The good gun-mounting', he once said, 'is the mounting that the pilot
can work.' This was a thing essential to remember at a time when the
pilot got the best part of his training in the war itself. If he could
not work the gun-mounting, the gun-mounting would probably survive him.
To study the tastes and preferences of pilots, even when these tastes
were prejudices, was the only way to efficiency. At the beginning of
1916 General Trenchard made it a rule to supply one experimental
machine, without standardized mountings, to every squadron of the Royal
Flying Corps, so that the pilots might put their own ideas to the test
of practice. They had had but little opportunity to test their own ideas
in the course of their training at the Central Flying School or the
other training stations. The great practical School of Research for
pilots was the war.
During the first winter of the war, the training given at the Central
Flying School and the other training stations was still very elementary
in character. The main part of the pupil's business was to learn to fly
with safety, and when he could do this he was passed out to the
squadrons. Such a training would have been terribly inadequate a year or
two later, when no one could hope to fly long without fighting. At the
training station in Shawbury, during the winter of 1917-18, Lieutenant
W. L. S. Keith-Jopp, who, after losing a hand in the war, continued to
be a capable pilot, was in the habit of teaching his pupils all the
acrobatics of the air, and would urge them on with the motto--'Stunt, or
die.' Those who could not or would not learn to side-slip, to loop, to
imitate a fall out of control, and to perform a dozen other gymnastic
feats in the air had little prospect of a long flying career in France.
But the first winter of the war was innocent of all these fighting
manoeuvres. Group Captain J. G. Hearson, who made acquaintance with the
Central Flying School at that time, has kindly contributed some notes on
the system then in vogue. The Central Flying School, he says, was the
Mecca of all who wished to learn to fly. For serviceable machines,
competent instructors, and the material and knowledge necessary to turn
out a finished pilot, it was believed to be better than any other
training centre. Some of the instructors had seen active service in
France, and all were veterans in aviation. Of the pupils a certain
number were regular officers, army or navy, but the majority were
civilians of promise. The ambition of all was the same, to get into the
air as quickly as possible, and to qualify for the coveted wings, which,
once obtained, assured their wearer of immediate service, either in
France, or with a naval unit. There were lectures on engines,
aeroplanes, wireless telegraphy, meteorology, tactics, and organization.
Flying was taught in four flights of service machines, two of them being
made up of various types of the B.E. machines, while the other two
consisted of Henri Farmans and Avros. The pupil was first taken up as a
passenger, and the method of using the controls was demonstrated to
him. He was then allowed to attempt flight for himself, either on a
machine fitted with dual controls, or with the watchful instructor on
the pounce to save him from dangerous mistakes. If he prospered well,
the great day soon came, which, however carefully it may have been
prepared for, is always a thrilling experience and a searching test of
self-reliance, the day of the first solo flight, sometimes ending in a
too violent or too timid landing--that is, in a crash or a pancake. The
training was almost wholly directed to producing airworthiness in the
pupil. The various activities which had developed at the front, such as
artillery observation, fighting, and bombing, had no counterpart as yet
in the training establishment. Most of the pupils were eager to fly and
to get to France; they endured workshop instruction as a necessary evil.
Most of the instructors were unable to answer the questions of a pupil
interested in the science of aviation. They knew, and taught, that when
a machine is steeply banked the rudder and the elevator appear to
exchange functions, so that the rudder directs the machine up or down
and the elevator turns it to this side or that, but they could not
always explain the reason of this mystery. Nor could they explain why in
a fog or cloud the compass of an aeroplane is suddenly possessed of a
devil, and begins to spin around. But although they were not all well
versed in technical knowledge and theory, they were all fit to teach the
most important lesson--the lesson of confidence, resource, and
initiative.
There was no special school for the systematic training of observers
until the spring of 1918, when the school of aeronautics at Bath was
formed with that purpose in view. During the greater part of the war the
instruction given to observers in the schools at home was occasional and
desultory. From 1916 onwards a certain number were sent to Brooklands
to learn wireless telegraphy, and a certain number to the machine gun
school at Hythe to learn aerial gunnery. This school had been formed at
Dover in September 1915, and two months later had been moved to Hythe,
where firing from the air could be more freely and safely practised. In
the earlier part of the war the observer's duties were usually
undertaken by officers or non-commissioned officers who volunteered for
the business. When they joined the Flying Corps they already had some
considerable acquaintance with the things to be observed--the
disposition and appearance of the mobile forces and earthworks of a
modern army--but their experience of observation from the air had to be
gained over the enemy lines. It has always been the tendency of our air
forces to make more of the pilot than of the observer. When battles in
the air became frequent, this tendency was strengthened. The pilot is
the captain of the craft. If he is killed, the craft cannot keep the
air. But if more depends on the pilot, it is equally true to say that a
higher degree of cold-drawn courage is demanded from the observer. He
suffers with the pilot for all the pilot's mistakes. For hours together
he has nothing to do but to sit still and keep his eyes open. He has not
the relief that activity and the sense of control give to strained
nerves. He is often an older man than the pilot, and better able to
recognize danger. There is no more splendid record of service in the war
than the record of the best observers. The two embroidered wings of the
pilot's badge are the mark of a gallant profession, and are worn by
novices and veterans alike; the single wing of the observer's badge was
the mark of service done over the fire of enemy guns.
It has already been told how a large scheme for the expansion of the
Royal Flying Corps was set on foot at home by Lord Kitchener, Colonel
Trenchard, and Colonel Brancker. In November 1914 Colonel Trenchard was
given the command of the First Wing. In August 1915 he succeeded General
Henderson in the command of the Royal Flying Corps in France. General
Henderson had held this command during the whole of the first year of
the war. Under his guidance the new, small, tentative air force, which
he had done so much to create and foster, took its part in a great
European war, and rapidly gained recognition for itself from the other
branches of the service. When he relinquished his command in the field,
General Henderson continued until October 1917 to be General Officer
Commanding the Royal Flying Corps, and Director-General of Military
Aeronautics. Soon after that, when the Air Ministry was formed, he was
given a seat on the Air Council, which he resigned in March 1918. At the
close of the war he took over the control of the International Red Cross
organization at Geneva, where he did good work until his death in August
1921. He was a white man, a good friend, and an honourable enemy,
high-spirited and sensitive--too sensitive to be happy among those
compromises and makeshifts which are usual in the world of politics. The
first chief of the Royal Flying Corps was a loyal and simple soldier.
Men take their turn and pass, but their work lives after them. The story
of the Royal Flying Corps during the war is a continuous story of
growth. Better, faster, and more numerous machines; more powerful, more
trustworthy, and more numerous engines; better trained, more skilful,
and more numerous pilots--the increase went on, when once the initial
difficulties were vanquished, by leaps and bounds. The growth in power
and bulk is striking enough, but the vitality of the new force is even
better seen in the growing diversity of its purposes and of the tasks
which it was called on to perform. Reconnaissance, or observation, can
never be superseded; knowledge comes before power; and the air is first
of all a place to see from. It is also a place to strike from, but,
speaking historically, offensive action in the air, on any large scale,
began, as had been anticipated, in the effort of the conflicting forces
to deprive each other of the opportunity and means of vision. As the
British expeditionary force grew, more squadrons of reconnaissance
machines were required to serve the armies, their principal duties being
to observe for the artillery and to photograph enemy positions. While
they could perform these duties, they were content, but before very long
they could not perform them. The change in the situation is well
summarized in a letter written on the 31st of July 1915 by Colonel
Brooke-Popham to Colonel Ashmore, who commanded the Administrative Wing
in England. 'The German aeroplanes', says Colonel Brooke-Popham, 'are
becoming far more active, and are making a regular habit of attacking
our machines when on reconnaissance, and we are having to fight for all
our information. We are now having fights by pairs of machines, as well
as individual duels. It will probably be necessary to send machines by
pairs or even by flights on all reconnaissances. The General Officer
Commanding, therefore, wants you to practise flying by pairs of machines
in keeping station. Simple manoeuvres might also be carried out.' That
this forecast was correct is shown by a letter sent in March 1916 from
General Headquarters to the War Office. 'Under existing conditions,' the
letter runs, 'it is essential to provide protection in the form of
patrols for machines employed on artillery work. Information can no
longer be obtained by despatching single machines on reconnaissance
duties. The information has now to be fought for, and it is necessary
for reconnaissances to consist of at least five machines flying in
formation.'
Fighting in the air had by 1916 become a regular incident of
reconnaissance work. But when once fighting machines were produced, it
was obvious that their use would not be restricted to attacks on enemy
aircraft. Bombing raids on enemy positions became a regular duty of the
Flying Corps. A machine built to take a heavy load of bombs is clumsy
and slow in manoeuvre, not well able to repel the attack of light
fighting scouts. To borrow a phrase from the pilots, it is cold meat in
the air. Hence bombing raids were carried out chiefly at night, and
night flying, on machines designed for the purpose, became another
special duty of the Flying Corps. These raids were what may be called
short-distance raids, aimed at the aerodromes, munition stores, and
communications of the German forces on the western front. They were
followed, later, by long-distance raids, carried out by the Independent
Air Force of 1918 against those centres in Germany which were sources of
supply for the German army. In his dispatch of January 1919, on the work
of the Independent Air Force, General Trenchard reviews and summarizes
what had been his policy from the beginning. It was necessary, he says,
to equip the British expeditionary force on the western front with
sufficient aircraft to hold and beat the German aerial forces on the
western front; the bombing of Germany was a luxury till this had been
accomplished, but once this had been accomplished, it became a
necessity.
A good general idea of the growth of the Flying Corps can be obtained
from a study of the programmes put up in 1915 to Sir John French, and in
later years to Sir Douglas Haig, by the command of the Flying Corps in
the field. These programmes are consistent and progressive; they look
ahead, and attempt to provide the Flying Corps, in good time, with the
means of meeting the demands certain to be made on it. On the 21st of
August 1915, some two or three days after he had taken over the command
in the field, Colonel Trenchard wrote to the Chief of the General Staff
at General Headquarters. In this letter he speaks of the number of
hostile aeroplanes seen on the Second Army front, and asks for another
squadron to be sent out from home by the middle of September. 'I think a
guide for the future', he says, 'should be at least one squadron to each
corps, one squadron to each army headquarters, and one for General
Headquarters.' The corps squadrons were needed for artillery work and
photography; the others to carry out reconnaissances for the three
armies and for General Headquarters. On this basis he asks for three
more squadrons as soon as possible. 'In addition I would ask that a
squadron per army be sent out when formed, for special work such as bomb
raids.' His plea for a good supply of anti-aircraft guns illustrates a
difference which persisted throughout the war between British and German
usages. The British corps machines were incessantly at work over the
enemy. The German corps machines were more prudent. Their constant
practice was to carry out their observation of artillery fire and their
photographic work obliquely, from a position in the air low down over
their own lines, so that they were protected by their own guns, and
could be attacked from the air only at very great risk. But the German
anti-aircraft guns had already succeeded in hitting some of our
aeroplanes when they were flying more than three miles inside our own
lines, at a height of six thousand feet. If we had guns as good as this,
says Colonel Trenchard, and in sufficient number, we could attack the
German machines and could protect our own machines when they are at
work above the enemy lines. Hostile aeroplanes are easier to see from
the ground than from the air, and the bursts of our anti-aircraft shell
would serve to show our aircraft the whereabouts of enemy machines.
At this time there were three British armies on the western front. When
news came in September that a Fourth Army was about to be formed,
General Trenchard at once asked for a fourth wing, to consist of
headquarters and three squadrons.
These demands were all fulfilled as soon as the uncertainty of
deliveries permitted. In March 1916, some three and a half months before
the beginning of the battles of the Somme, General Trenchard took
another step forward. The work to be done by the Royal Flying Corps had
outgrown its strength. Each of the British armies on the front had
allotted to it at this time one brigade of the Royal Flying Corps,
consisting of two aeroplane wings, namely, a corps wing and an army
wing, and two kite balloon sections. But in practice it had been found
necessary to use the squadrons of the corps wing to help the army wing
in patrol work, army reconnaissance, and bombing, so that corps
commanders were often deprived of the essential services of the Flying
Corps in artillery work and photography. General Trenchard's proposals,
accepted and forwarded by the Chief of the General Staff, were based on
the assumption that thirty-two squadrons would be in France by the
middle of April. Sixteen of these, it was recommended, should be
allotted, one to every corps of the four armies, for corps work; twelve
to the four armies, at the rate of three squadrons to each army, for
army work; and four squadrons to General Headquarters.