Chapter IV: Passchendale and the Northern Battles

The centre of interest had now (June 1917) shifted to the North. The Messines Ridge had been taken, though we heard nothing of it till it was over, and many of the Hun _Jagdstaffeln_, as their scout squadrons were called, had moved up to Flanders.

On July 22, Scott, who had been wounded in the arm a few days before, was promoted wing commander and sent to the XI or Army Wing of the 2nd Brigade allotted to the 2nd Army in the Ypres sector. C. K. Cochrane-Patrick, D.S.O., M.C., who had been doing brilliantly in 23 Squadron on Spads, succeeded to the command of 60, who were at that time being re-equipped with 150 h.p. S.E.5s, this being the newest type of scouts, as the Nieuports were by then rather out of date.

Not quite so much fighting was done during July and August, as the change of machines from an air-cooled rotary engine (the 110 h.p. Le Rhone which had served us so well) to a 150 h.p. water-cooled stationary (the Hispano Suisa) naturally took some getting used to. These machines were again replaced in late August with 200 h.p. Hispano Suisa S.E.5s, which, though a more powerful engine than the 150 h.p., was much more difficult to keep serviceable. Nevertheless, Bishop (who was soon posted to Home Establishment--H.E., as the R.F.C. called it), Caldwell, Rutherford, W. Jenkins (afterwards killed in a collision with West-Thompson over Poperinghe), Molesworth, M.C. and bar, Hall, S. B. Horn, M.C. (whose dog Lobo was a squadron pet), and G. Lloyd, M.C. (who was promoted to captain and sent to 40 Squadron as flight commander), were all distinguishing themselves and adding to the squadron’s laurels.

In the following extract Molesworth again graphically describes a fight in which he was very nearly killed:

“60 SQUADRON R.F.C.,
“B.E.F., FRANCE.
“_June 1917._

“Yesterday I had the narrowest shave I’ve ever had since I first
started Boche-strafing. I was properly caught out this time, and
really thought things were all up.

“We were just over the Drocourt Switch,[32] near Vitry, when a
dozen Huns got what you might call ‘uppish.’ We tumbled into a
proper mix-up and, as there were only five of us, the Huns managed
to break up our formation. We had arranged that, should this
happen, we were to return to the line independently and re-form,
so I started towards Arras, following the Scarpe.[33]

“Just as I was passing over Gavrelle I espied three fat Hun
two-seaters making south-east.

“‘Here we are, my son,’ says I to myself. ‘We’ll just hop down and
put the gust[34] up one of these Huns.’

“No sooner said than done. I pushed my nose down and, when within
range, opened fire. The next thing I knew was a perfect hail
of bullets pouring round me. Here is a rough description of my
thoughts during the few minutes that followed:

“Crackle! crackle! crackle!

“‘My cheery aunt! There’s a Hun on my tail.’

“‘By jove! The blighter is making my grid into a sieve. Confound
him!’

“‘Let’s pull her up in a good climbing turn and have a look at him.’

“‘Heavens! It’s “the Circus.”’[35]

“‘I wonder if old Richthof is the leader. The dirty dog nearly
caught me out this time. Silly ass! didn’t hold his fire long
enough, or he’d have made me into cold meat by now.’

“‘Let’s give him a dose and see how he likes it.’

“‘Here he comes straight at me, loosing off with both guns.’

“‘I hope we aren’t going to collide.’

“‘Missed! Bon! Everything’s A1. Wish I’d hit him, though!’

“‘I must pull her round quick or he will be on my tail.’

“‘Hang! I can’t shoot for toffee, but he’s pretty “dud,” too, thank
heavens!’

“‘Once again, boys, round with her. Let him have it hot.’

“‘No good. Try again.’

“‘Confound it! There’s my beastly drum empty. I must spin and
change it.’

“‘Good enough! Now where’s the blighter?’

“‘My Harry! He has got me stiff this time; here he comes down on me
from the right.’

“Crack! crack! crack! bang! zip! zip!

“‘There goes my petrol tank; now for the flames.’

“‘Cheero! No luck this time, you old swine. Wait till I get you
next show.’

“‘Here goes for the ground.’

“Luckily for me, my friend and his pals, who had been watching the
scrap, thought I was done for. They therefore chucked up the sponge
and departed.

“I managed to pull the machine out, just scraping over the
trenches. The engine was still running, although the petrol was
pouring out all over my legs. A few minutes afterwards the
engine conked out altogether, and I had to land in a field. I was
immediately surrounded by a crowd of men, who had seen the fight.
Amongst them were some artillery officers, who took me off to their
mess and offered me a ‘tot,’ which was very thankfully received,
while they sent off a message to the squadron. The following is the
official list of damage done to my machine:

“Six bullet holes in propeller.

“Cowling[36] shot away.

“Large holes in bottom of petrol tank and sides.

“Main spar[37] right-hand top plane broken.

“Rear right-hand under-carriage strut badly damaged.

“Twenty-eight holes in fuselage[38] and ten in the planes--two
or three missing the pilot’s seat by less than an inch.”

During the 3rd Corps’ attack on August 19, 1917, Lieuts. Jenkins, Steele, Thompson, Rutherford, and Sergt. Bancroft did good work shooting up infantry in trenches and by harassing the troops assembling for counter-attacks.

On September 7, 1917, the squadron was moved up to the XI Wing to help in the battles for the Passchendale Ridge, which were already in full swing. Leaving the comfortable Filescamp station and the hard tennis-court with great regret, they were moved into tents on Marie Capelle aerodrome, near Cassel, where 20 Squadron was already stationed. The 2nd and 5th Armies were then attacking almost every day, and 60, in addition to their ordinary work of offensive patrols, wireless interception, etc., co-operated by low flying and firing at troops and transport on the ground. Twenty-five-pound Cooper bombs were carried at this time and dropped on suitable targets.

Capt. Chidlaw-Roberts, Lieuts. Rutherford, Whiting, and I. Macgregor were now prominent, while Patrick, himself a brilliant fighter, was always ready to give his squadron a lead.

Chidlaw-Roberts got a lot of Huns during September, and Caldwell and W. Jenkins continued their successes of the summer, while J. Crompton, Young, Capt. Hammersley, Lieut. W. Sherwood, and 2/Lieut. Carter were others who were conspicuous during the October fighting.

It was in September that Capt. J. K. Law, one of the sons of Mr. Bonar Law (another of whose sons had already been killed in Mesopotamia), joined at Marie Capelle. He was a tiger to fight, and, had he come through his first month, would probably have made a great name for himself. He did several “shows” over the line, and his machine was shot about badly in every one of them. On September 21, a patrol operating in the neighbourhood of Roulers, led by Hammersley and including Whiting and Macgregor and Law, saw twenty-four hostile machines and engaged eight of them. A general engagement took place, in the course of which Law was shot down and killed. He had absolutely refused to stay any longer at home, where he was doing most useful work training pilots, but insisted on being sent to France.

Life was less easy during the autumn, as the Boche had begun continually to send over night-bombing machines. Our scouts were not very successful in dealing with them, for it is very difficult to see another machine in the air at night even though it may be visible from the ground; and, although several attempts were made at this time by 70 and 29 Squadrons, stationed at Poperinghe, to attack these night bombers, they never succeeded in engaging one. The chief difficulty was that one could not ask pilots and mechanics to work all night as well as all day. If it had been possible to take a scout squadron or two off day work and set them to deal only with the German night bombers, there is little doubt but that they would have achieved some measure of success in spite of the shortage of searchlights. The authorities, however, would not hear of this, as there was too much to be done by day to spare one of our none too numerous fighter squadrons for night work. Much later in the war, July 1918 to be exact, 151 Squadron was sent out equipped with Camels fitted for night flying, and this squadron alone very nearly exterminated the Boche night bombers on the 1st and 3rd Army fronts. It was in this squadron that D. V. Armstrong added so greatly to the reputation he had already gained, and it was with them that he was killed. As things were, however, in 1917 the enemy dropped their bombs nightly almost with impunity, as anti-aircraft fire was not very effective at night, and machine-gun fire from the ground was useless against machines which rarely flew lower than 5,000 feet.

During this autumn series of battles a somewhat novel system of message-dropping was tried. All scout pilots were ordered to carry cards conveniently fixed in the nacelle, on which they wrote such information as they had secured during low-flying patrols; special attention was to be given to the massing of enemy supporting troops and to the development of counter-attacks, the symptoms of which were the approach to the “debussing”[39] points of motor transport vehicles or trains from which troops could be seen disembarking and forming up. These cards were slipped into a message bag and dropped in a field marked with a white cross, near Locre Château, not far from the line, which was the 2nd Army report centre. The information thus given occasionally enabled our heavy artillery to direct their fire on to the targets indicated. On one occasion, in October, a pilot reported a big gun being moved along a road near Menin; the Corps heavies opened on it within ten minutes of the message being dropped, and another pilot of another squadron reported, half an hour later, a heavy gun at the same place to have been destroyed by a direct hit. Information of this kind was very necessary, as the German policy at that time was to hold their front line positions lightly against our initial assaults, but to counter-attack very strongly and swiftly about two hours or so after our first attack had been delivered.

Lieuts. F. Soden, W. Rutherford, and W. Duncan all distinguished themselves by giving accurate information during these battles, while Selous, a son of the big-game hunter, was also proving himself to be a fine patrol leader and Hun-getter.

The last-named--the worthy son of a famous father--was killed on January 4, 1918, while leading his patrol. He dived at some enemy machines several thousand feet below, and in the middle of his dive, the speed of which the other members of the patrol estimated at not less than 300 miles per hour, the wings of his S.E.5 came right off.

As good a flight commander as ever we had, he was a very great loss to the squadron. Without, perhaps, the brilliance of Ball or Bishop he, like Caldwell, Summers, Armstrong, Hammersley, Chidlaw-Roberts, Belgrave, and Scholte, to name a few only of the best, played always for the squadron, and not for his own hand. He took endless pains to enter young pilots to the game, watching them on their first patrols as a good and patient huntsman watches his young hounds.

The character of Selous, like those whom I have mentioned, not to speak of many others whom their comrades will remember, attained very nearly to the ideal of a gentleman’s character as described by Burke, Newman, and Cavendish in the extracts given below, for which I am indebted to a report by Lord Hugh Cecil on the education of the future R.A.F. officer. These noble sentiments so fully describe the kind of man the British love and admire that it is perhaps not inappropriate to quote them:

“_Character of a Gentleman_

“But the age of chivalry is gone. That of sophisters, economists,
and calculators has succeeded; and the glory of Europe is
extinguished for ever. Never, never more shall we behold that
generous loyalty to rank and sex, that proud submission, that
dignified obedience, that subordination of the heart, which kept
alive, even in servitude itself, the spirit of an exalted freedom.
The unbought grace of life, the cheap defence of nations, the nurse
of manly sentiment and heroic enterprise is gone! It is gone, that
sensibility of principle, that chastity of honour, which felt a
stain like a wound, which inspired courage whilst it mitigated
ferocity, which ennobled whatever it touched, and under which vice
itself lost half its evil, by losing all its grossness.

“This mixed system of opinion and sentiment had its origin in
the ancient chivalry; and the principle, though varied in its
appearance by the varying state of human affairs, subsisted and
influenced through a long succession of generations, even to
the time we live in. If it should ever be totally extinguished,
the loss, I fear, will be great. It is this which has given its
character to modern Europe. It is this which has distinguished it
under all its forms of government, and distinguished it to its
advantage, from the states of Asia, and possibly from those states
which flourished in the most brilliant periods of the antique
world. It was this which, without confounding ranks, had produced
a noble equality, and handed it down through all the gradations
of social life. It was this opinion which mitigated kings into
companions, and raised private men to be fellows with kings.
Without force or opposition, it subdued the fierceness of pride and
power; it obliged sovereigns to submit to the soft collar of social
esteem, compelled stern authority to submit to elegance, and gave a
dominating vanquisher of laws to be subdued by manners.”

(BURKE: _Reflections on the Revolution in France_.)

* * * * *

“Hence it is that it is almost a definition of a gentleman to
say that he is one who never inflicts pain. This description
is both refined and, as far as it goes, accurate. He is mainly
occupied in merely removing the obstacles which hinder the free
and unembarrassed action of those about him; and he concurs with
their movements rather than takes the initiative himself. His
benefits may be considered as parallel to what are called comforts
or conveniences in arrangements of a personal nature: like an
easy-chair or a good fire, which do their part in dispelling cold
and fatigue, though nature provides both means of rest and animal
heat without them. The true gentleman in like manner carefully
avoids whatever may cause a jar or a jolt in the minds of those
with whom he is cast--all clashing of opinion or collision of
feeling, all restraint or suspicion, or gloom, or resentment;
his great concern being to make everyone at their ease and at
home. He has his eyes on all his company; he is tender towards
the bashful, gentle towards the distant, and merciful towards the
absurd; he can recollect to whom he is speaking; he guards against
unseasonable allusions, or topics which may irritate; he is seldom
prominent in conversation and never wearisome. He makes light of
favours when he does them, and seems to be receiving when he is
conferring. He never speaks of himself except when compelled, never
defends himself by a mere retort; he has no ears for slander or
gossip, is scrupulous in imputing motives to those who interfere
with him, and interprets everything for the best. He is never
mean or little in his disputes, never takes unfair advantage,
never mistakes personalities or sharp sayings for arguments, or
insinuates evil which he dare not say out. From a long-sighted
prudence he observes the maxim of the ancient sage, that we should
ever conduct ourselves towards our enemy as if he were one day
to be our friend. He has too much good sense to be affronted at
insults, he is too well employed to remember injuries, and too
indolent to bear malice. He is patient, forbearing, and resigned,
on philosophical principles; he submits to pain, because it is
inevitable, to bereavement, because it is irreparable, and to
death, because it is his destiny. If he engages in controversy
of any kind, his disciplined intellect preserves him from the
blundering discourtesy of better, perhaps, but less educated minds;
who, like blunt weapons, tear and hack instead of cutting clean,
who mistake the point in argument, waste their strength on trifles,
misconceive their adversary, and leave the question more involved
than they find it. He may be right or wrong in his opinion, but
he is too clear-headed to be unjust; he is as simple as he is
forcible, and as brief as he is decisive. Nowhere shall we find
greater candour, consideration, indulgence: he throws himself into
the minds of his opponents, he accounts for their mistakes. He
knows the weakness of human reason as well as its strength, its
province, and its limits. If he be an unbeliever, he will be too
profound and large-minded to ridicule religion or to act against
it; he is too wise to be a dogmatist or fanatic in his infidelity.
He respects piety and devotion; he even supports institutions as
venerable, beautiful, or useful, to which he does not assent; he
honours the ministers of religion, and it contents him to decline
its mysteries without assailing or denouncing them. He is a friend
of religious toleration, and that, not only because his philosophy
has taught him to look on all forms of faith with an impartial eye,
but also from the gentleness and effeminacy of feeling which is the
attendant on civilisation.”

(NEWMAN: _Idea of a University_, Discourse VIII, Section 10.)

* * * * *

“He has besides the principle of common honesty, which would
prevent him from doing wrong, a principle of nice honour, which
will always urge him to do right. By honour I do not mean a
fashionable mistaken principle which would only lead a man to court
popular reputation and avoid popular disgrace, whether the opinion
upon which they are founded is false or true; whether the conduct
which they require is in itself just or unjust, or its consequences
hurtful or beneficial to mankind. I mean a quality which is not
satisfied with doing right when it is merely the alternative
of wrong; which prompts a man to do what he might lawfully and
honestly leave undone; which distinguishes a thousand different
shades in what is generally denominated the same colour, and is as
much superior to a mere conformity to prescribed rules as forgiving
a debt is to paying what we owe.”

(LORD JOHN CAVENDISH: From speech proposing Mr. Thos. Tounshend
for Speaker, 1770. _Parliamentary History_, vol. xvi, col.
737, A.D. 1770.)

On November 8, Pope, an old member of the squadron, who had come through the Arras battle with us, destroyed two hostile two-seaters in one day. This was a good pilot and a popular officer, who for some reason was a long time before he began to get Huns, but, having once found his form, became a very useful and formidable fighter. He went home soon after this, and showed himself to be an exceptionally gifted trainer of pilots, both in flying and fighting.

On November 20 the Cambrai attack was launched by the 1st and 3rd Armies, and the pressure in the air on the Passchendale sector became sensibly less. This meant that the low-flying patrols, which were extra to the ordinary O.P. work, ceased for the time being, a relief which was very welcome because low flying was never popular, the pilot being not only exposed to very severe fire from the ground, but also, being so low, was at a disadvantage when meeting enemy machines, who could dive upon him at their leisure, and frequently availed themselves of this privilege.

By this time they had made themselves quite comfortable at Marie Capelle, and the necessary precautions had been taken to give protection against bombs. It is really remarkable how soon a good squadron will make itself at home in a new station, and how, if all ranks work together, messes, recreation rooms, and a theatre rise up like pumpkins. Sixty could always make themselves comfortable, as the following extracts from the letters of 2/Lieut. R. W. Maclennan will show. These letters have been collected and published, after Maclennan’s death from wounds on December 23, 1917, by his father, a well-known Toronto barrister, who has courteously allowed them to be reprinted. They describe his arrival at the squadron from the base:

“60 SQUADRON R.F.C.,
“B.E.F., FRANCE.
“_November 28, 1917._

“When the tender came we collected our kit and started on a long
cold ride to the aerodrome, which we reached in three-quarters of
an hour. The first thing was to report to the squadron commander, a
captain who last summer had been one of my instructors. He was in
temporary command in the absence of the Major, who was on leave,
but has since returned. When we went to the mess we ran into a
lot more of Central Flying School boys, who had been there in our
time. There are about twenty-four officers in the squadron, and
more than half of these are Canadians, so I feel quite at home. As
a new-comer I shall not get much flying during the first fortnight.
I shall do all I can round the aerodrome for practice, so that when
the time comes for me to go over the line I shall know something
about it.

“Of all the S.E.5 squadrons in France, we seem to have struck the
best. It is one which has done exceedingly well in the past. Both
the late Captain Ball and Major Bishop belonged to it, and there
have been fewer casualties than in any other similar squadron.[40]
Having had so few, the chaps have been in the game a long time, and
so have had wide experience, and this is bound to be of inestimable
benefit to new people. The aerodrome is a good twenty miles behind
the line, and is practically immune from shell fire. None have
landed anywhere near for months.

“You ought to see our quarters. I share a hut with three others and
we have lots of room. The huts are like half a barrel laid on the
ground; the curved roof is corrugated iron and the ends are wood.
We have several tables, comfortable chairs, our camp beds, and
innumerable rugs on the floor. A coal stove and an oil stove give
plenty of heat, and petrol lamps give excellent light. I have not
had such comfortable permanent quarters since leaving Canada, and
yet we are within sound range of the guns, which never cease. I was
able to bring over practically every article of kit I possessed. An
infantry officer would have had to leave nine-tenths of it behind.

“One great comfort is that here we can wear just exactly what we
like. We can come to breakfast in pyjamas and wear comfortable
old clothes all day long. Puttees I am discarding for good, and
in their place will wear long stockings. They have always been an
abomination, as their tightness stops circulation and induces cold.
We do not wear belts and can fly in sweaters. In fact, it will be a
long summer holiday with lots of excitement thrown in. Leave comes
round every three months, and lasts for fourteen days.”

* * * * *

“60 SQUADRON R.F.C.,
“B.E.F., FRANCE.
“_December 2, 1917_.

“To add to the comfort of the mess, besides dogs, we have a fairly
good piano and a gramophone. Every time anyone goes on leave he
brings back a few records, and the collection is now quite large.

“The hours for actual flying are of necessity short on account of
the shortness of daylight. Consequently we get lots of time for
exercise, most of which consists in kicking a Rugby ball around
the aerodrome. It is about the best way of keeping warm in these
cold days.

“Our tenders frequently run to St. Omer and even as far as
Boulogne, so when not flying there are chances of seeing these
places. It does seem funny to be able to go from practically the
trenches to Boulogne (within sight of England) almost any time we
want to. We in the R.F.C. are about the only people who can do this.

“When artillery horses are in need of rest, they are sent back from
the front line. We have two or three at the squadron, and I shall
probably get some riding if I can pluck up courage enough to try.

“It is bound to be muddy here before the winter is over; at present
everything is dry. In preparation for later we have ‘duck-boards,’
or wooden slat-walks, laid down between all the huts, the mess, the
hangars, etc. On a dark night it is rather a problem to keep on
these boards. This reminds me that my little pocket flash lamp is
almost indispensable out here.

“All the heavy labour in this part of France is now being done by
Chinese coolies, brought specially from China for this purpose.
They are enlisted as soldiers and wear a peculiar blue padded
uniform. They are employed around the aerodrome levelling ground,
putting sand-bags about the huts as a protection against bombs,
making roads and paths, etc. They are terribly interested in our
phonograph, and if we leave the door open they almost come in. To
keep them out, the interpreter has painted a large sign in Chinese
characters, and it sticks up in front of the mess and gives it
quite an Oriental appearance.

“Moving picture shows are given every night or so in a Church Army
hut in the camp. We had several good films last night. It hardly
seems at all like war yet.”

* * * * *

“FRANCE,
“_December 3, 1917_.

“I am still merely watching operations from the ground. Two fresh
pilots have been posted to the squadron since Hemsworth and I
arrived, and we shall probably commence flying to-morrow if the
weather is suitable.

“Great interest is being shown out here in the coming general
election in Canada, and the authorities are endeavouring to have
every Canadian register his vote. Quite contrary to army precedent
and regulations, the authorities are openly urging everyone to vote
against Laurier. Most of us share this view, but it is interesting
to see the officials of an army in the field canvassing votes for
one party.

“The Canadians are no longer near us. I imagine they needed a rest
badly after their recent push.

“You ought to see our strength in dogs. The squadron boasts sixteen
canines at present. The officers’ mess possesses five. We are very
proud of them. Besides these, we have six pigs and twenty-five
hens. There is no shortage of eggs about the mess.”

* * * * *

“FRANCE,
“_December 9, 1917_.

“Since last Sunday I have been waiting, waiting, waiting for a
flight, and not till last Thursday did I get it. The day was
cloudy and the visibility poor. Hemsworth and I were to have a
practice flight, and we spent about twenty minutes at it. When we
finished, I had lost sight of the aerodrome and so had he, for I
could see him flying aimlessly one way and then another, diving on
one hill and then on several more. As our aerodrome is near a town
perched on a high hill, I knew what he was looking for, but none
of the hills seemed to be the right one. After that he flew east
for a time, and, although I knew such a course would take us into
Hunland, I followed, deciding to go with him as far as the trenches
and then turn west again. Just our side of the line I spotted a
town[41] which I recognised from the great relief map we had at
Oxford. It is a town that has undergone more shelling than any
other during the whole war. I never saw such a sight of desolation.
Nothing but shell-holes in all directions. Practically all the
buildings in ruins, and every now and then a shell would burst in
the desolate city with a blinding flash. Of course, I could hear
nothing of the explosion. I knew my way back to the aerodrome and
felt much relieved, as it is most undignified to get lost on
one’s first flip. I opened my engine and soon caught up the other
machine, and signalled Hemsworth to turn round and follow me. We
were at the aerodrome twenty minutes later. I have not been in the
air since owing to a temporary shortage of machines.

“... The little town[42] near our aerodrome, perched on a high
hill, has a fine square, from which a beautiful church can be
seen, and the square and streets are cobbled. The road which leads
into the town from the east enters through a short tunnel, which
emerges right into the square itself. When I was last there,
several howitzer batteries were coming from the line for a rest,
and the caterpillar tractors, which haul these huge guns, were
grunting and chugging from the tunnel into the town, and through
it, making for some spot further to the rear. All units which come
out of the trenches for a rest are sent far enough back to be out
of earshot of the guns. The Casino, at the highest part of the
town, is devoted to military purposes. From it a wonderful view
of the Western Front may be had, puffs of smoke in the distance,
captive sausage observation balloons, aeroplanes, and roads teeming
with hundreds and hundreds of motor-lorries slowly crawling along.
A batch of miserable-looking German prisoners were engaged in
cleaning the streets. Their appearance gave the impression that
they must have been reduced to sorry straits before their capture,
as they all looked white, pinched, and sickly. I think they are
pretty fairly treated by our people, and certainly given enough to
eat.

“Speaking of food reminds me that you may be interested to know
that we do pretty well in our mess. I quote from our ordinary
dinner menu: Soup (mock turtle), toast; fish (grilled sole, mustard
sauce); entrée (beefsteak, pastry, boiled potatoes, green peas);
sweets (stewed prunes, cornstarch pudding); biscuits, cheese,
coffee. Does this satisfy you? It does me.

“We have the correct number of machines, six in each flight, and
there are three flights, ‘A,’ ‘B,’ and ‘C.’ I am in ‘B’ Flight.
There are eighteen pilots, an equipment officer who is also
quartermaster, a recording officer (adjutant) and the commanding
officer. So we have twenty-two in our mess.

“Lunch is served at one o’clock. Sometimes I have spent the
afternoons walking in the near-by town. Tea is at 4 p.m., and now
it is dark at that time. After tea we read or play cards till
dinner, at 7.30. After dinner some music. By the way, we have a
ragtime band, composed of a piano, a snare drum, two sets of bones,
a triangle and brass cymbals, and an auto horn. It is ‘some’ band.
We all go to bed fairly early.”

Patrick was transferred to H.E. on December 29, 1917, to take up
an appointment in the Training Division of the Air Board--as it
was then--and Major B. F. Moore, Royal Warwickshire Regiment and
R.F.C., was given the command.

It was about this time, also, that General Trenchard went home to
become Chief of the Air Staff, prior to the official formation of
the Royal Air Force by the amalgamation of the R.F.C. and R.N.A.S.
His successor to the command of the R.F.C. in the field was General
Sir J. Salmond, who remained in this position till the end of the
war.

January 1918 passed fairly quietly. Morey collided in the air with
an Albatros scout during a fight and both pilots must have been
killed, but as this was some way over the lines, we never heard
the German pilot’s fate. Up to this time, the Huns had been very
good in sending information about the fate of our pilots, nor were
we behind them in courtesy. On one occasion, during May 1917,
a message was dropped on Douai aerodrome, two hours after his
capture, announcing the safety of a German scout pilot whom we had
driven down near St. Pol. A study of the lists sent over by the
Germans showed that just over 50 per cent. of our missing airmen
were alive--wounded or injured most probably--but alive. Later,
after March 1918, these amenities were not so nicely observed and
information became harder to get. February came and went with the
squadron still at Marie Capelle. A. C. Ball, brother of Albert
Ball, was missing on the 5th of this month. He was a very promising
young officer, but it was too early in his flying career to say
that he would have rivalled his brother. Happily he is alive, and
was repatriated at the end of the war. Lieuts. H. Crompton and
W. Duncan, 2/Lieuts. H. Hegarty and V. Priestly may perhaps be
mentioned as fighting most pluckily and well during this month.
Soden, by now a flight commander, did a good show on February 5,
1918. He attacked an Albatros scout, which he drove down out of
control, and was then attacked by two other hostile machines, who
drove him down from 15,000 to 50 feet, eight miles over the line;
he came back “hedge-hopping” and banking round trees, and when
halfway home saw the leading Hun crash into a tree; he then began
to gain on the other, and, finally outdistancing him, crossed the
trenches, still at 50 feet, and came home.

On February 18, Hammersley, Clark, Evans, and Kent took on four
triplanes and got three of them, Evans and Clark sharing one, and
Kent and Hammersley taking one each.

During the last month, before moving south, a lot of work was done,
and a great many bombs were dropped from a low altitude on rest
billets and other targets, this form of annoying the Hun having
become fashionable.

Another unusual incident occurred when W. Kent opened fire, one day
in March, at an enemy scout with both guns from a distance of about
400 yards. Usually it was considered complete waste of ammunition
to shoot at ranges exceeding 100 yards, while 10 or 15 yards was
the really effective distance. This scout caught fire all right,
however, and crashed in our lines. Bishop did a similar thing
once in the summer of 1917, but it was not a practice that was
encouraged.

Hammersley was still doing very well, while J. A. Duncan, H. D.
Crompton, and J. S. Griffiths were all prominent during March. H.
H. Balfour, now commanding a flight in 43, but an original member
of 60, was adequately maintaining the high standard which was
expected of one who had served in the squadron.

The S.E.5A., with which the squadron was equipped from July 1917
till the Armistice, deserves some description. A single-seater
fighting scout, it was armed with a Lewis gun mounted on the top
plane like the Nieuport, but carried, in addition, a Vicker’s
firing through the propeller. Its speed, with the 200 h.p. Hispano
engine, would reach 130 miles per hour near the ground and was, in
consequence, at least 25 miles per hour faster than the Nieuport.
This increase of speed made a great difference, as it meant that
the enemy could not run away, and, further, that the S.E.5, if
caught at a disadvantage, could outdistance its adversaries.
Against the advantage gained in speed by this change must be set
off a certain loss in respect of power to manœuvre quickly, but,
in spite of this, the change was very greatly to the pilot’s
advantage.

Every machine has its strong and its weak points, and though at
first we found the S.E. heavy on the controls and sluggish on
her turns, and though some were inclined to regret the silver
Nieuports, yet we soon found that the former was a far better
fighting instrument. In actual weight the S.E., when fully
loaded (including the pilot), was about 700 lb. heavier than the
Nieuport--roughly 2,000 lb. as against 1,300 lb. The new machine,
too, was distinctly more difficult to land, as the under-carriage
was relatively a good deal weaker, and, owing to the extra weight,
she would run on much farther on the ground.

During the first few months, therefore, a great many machines were
crashed on the aerodrome, more particularly after leaving Izel le
Hameau, which was a beautiful landing ground, and moving to Marie
Capelle, where there was not nearly so much room. There were more
crashes in this period than we had had since the days of the Morane
“bullets,” and from this point of view we often regretted the
little Nieuport, which a good pilot could put down on a postage
stamp anywhere.