1914 British Ace

by Griff Hosker

  He was right about being a holding aerodrome. There were the remnants of about four squadrons there and all of them were headed for France.

  The Major, when I was introduced to him, looked remarkably young. I had thought that his lordship was young to be a captain but the major looked to be even younger.

  He had a young face but an old man’s handshake. It was very firm. Dad had always set great store by a firm handshake. He said it told you everything you needed to know about a man. “Welcome, Flight Sergeant Harsker. Could I see your papers please?” I handed them to him and he scanned them. “Good, they appear to be in order.” He shouted through the door, “Flight Sergeant Lowery take these papers to Lieutenant Marshall tell him our new Flight Sergeant is here.”

  An older man came through the door, gave me a cursory glance and then left with my papers. “Marshall is the adjutant and deals with all the paperwork. We’ll have you signed up in a jiffy. Now I’ll be rude and talk to the captain here.”

  I felt embarrassed, “That’s fine sir. I can wait outside if…”

  He flapped a hand before me, “No need to do that old chap.” He addressed his lordship. “Now then James you will be leading three aircraft tomorrow. Lieutenant Devries will be in one of the new buses and Lieutenant Dundas will take the old Avro.”

  I saw his lordship’s face fall. “That will slow us down.”

  “Can’t be helped.” He suddenly turned to me. “By the by can you read a map? James said you were a scout in the cavalry.”

  “Yes sir, I can read a map.”

  “Excellent. Then that is settled. You better go and get your chap’s equipment before the damned quartermaster sells it all!”

  His lordship was laughing as we left. “Don’t repeat that to Quartermaster Doyle. The C.O. was just joking. Mr Doyle is very conscientious.”

  We arrived at a newly erected building which was empty save for a sergeant. “Ah, Sergeant Doyle. This is Flight Sergeant Harsker. We’ll be toddling over to France tomorrow in one of the new buses and we will need some equipment.”

  Sergeant Doyle was almost completely bald and seemed to be perpetually grinning. He was from Liverpool, not far from Burscough and had what is known as a Scouse accent. He was the antithesis of Quartermaster Grimes. I liked him from the off.

  He looked at me from head to toe as though sizing me up. “Right then Flight, let’s see you’ll need a flying helmet.” As he named each item he scurried to a shelf to get one. “Goggles, two pairs. Heavy duty gloves. Great coat, I think it is your size. Just try it on.” I did so and it seemed a little large. “Perfect. One holster and belt, Mess tins, two. Mess kit, one. RFC badge, one. Fur lined boots. What size?”

  “Nine.”

  “Fur lined boots size nine, one pair. And finally,” he took down a canvas wrap around bag which looked very heavy. “One tool kit, Flight Sergeants for the use of.” The happy Liverpudlian grinned and looked at his almost empty shelves. “Anything else will have to wait until France. I’m going over at the end of the week with one of the new trucks they are giving us and a bowser.” He flourished a piece of paper before me. “Sign here and we are done.” He saw me looking at the holster. “See the armourer for your pistol and ammo.”

  He went whistling back to work and I carried the equipment he had given me. Once outside I was taken to the armourer who gave me a .45 Webley and fifty rounds of ammunition, which I had to sign for.

  His lordship laughed, “It’s just like the army. You sign for everything. Let’s go back to the Singer and get your stuff. When I have shown you your tent I’ll give you a quick shufti around the old bus.” There were a row of tents. “Pick an empty one. These belonged to the lads who left this morning. Just bring your coat and flying helmet; the rest we can leave here.”

  He already had his own flying helmet on and he almost ran to get to his aircraft. I had never seen an aeroplane before. At least I hadn’t seen one close up. We had heard them in France but they had been high up and sounded like angry insects. This one was what is called a pusher. It meant that the propeller pushed the aircraft from behind, rather than pulling from the front. There was a Lewis gun in the front cockpit. What worried me was that there did not seem to be any protection for the gunner. I would be the gunner!

  He stood back admiringly. “Well what do you think?”

  “If I am to be honest sir, I am terrified.”

  “Don’t worry, you will love it.” He looked up at the sky. “We have an hour of daylight left. We’ll take her for a quick spin to get you used to it and then its maps for you young William.”

  I put my helmet and coat on. His lordship climbed into the cockpit. I went to climb in the forward cockpit with the gun when he said, “Not yet. You have to start it for me. Go and stand by the propeller.”

  When I reached it the propeller looked huge. The captain was hidden by the engine and propeller but I heard his voice. “When I shout, ‘contact’, then you spin the propeller and get out of the way.”

  It seemed a little dangerous to me but it looked as though I would need to learn how to do this sooner rather than later. I made sure that I could spring back out of the way and then held the propeller. He hadn’t told me which way to spin it but I had seen the flywheels on the cars I had serviced and had an idea that it would be clockwise. It seemed to me quite similar to starting a car with a starting handle.

  “Contact!”

  I flung the propeller around and there was a bang, some smoke and then it stopped. There were two sergeants working on the aeroplane next to me and they came over. One of them stubbed his cigarette out and said, “Are you the new bloke?”

  I grinned, “Does it show?”

  He laughed, “Just a bit. Stand back and I’ll show you how it is done . Ready, Captain Burscough!”

  “Contact!”

  The sergeant threw his whole body weight behind his action and then jumped backwards. There was a bang and a black plume of smoke but the engine caught. After a couple of coughs it began to roar.

  “Thanks sergeant.”

  “That’s flight and you are welcome but it’s the only lesson you get. You have to be a fast learner in the RFC!” He pointed to the cockpit. “I should get on board if I were you.”

  “Come on Harsker, get on board!”

  I ran round to the front and clambered up. It was not easy, especially in the greatcoat. I saw the two sergeants smiling. There was a lot to learn here. I managed to get myself into the seat and I held on to the sides with both hands. I could barely hear the captain but I did manage to hear. “Fasten your seat belt.” I raised my hand to show I had heard and I fastened the belt over my lap. It looked to me like this was the only safety equipment I had. I saw the captain wave both his hands and Ted pulled something from below the wheels. I later found they were called chocks. We began to trundle along the grassy field.

  Suddenly I head the engine speed increase and we were moving quicker over the grass. It was very bumpy. There was no warning that we were about to go aloft; the nose, and me, rose steeply into the air. His lordship was correct. This was unlike anything I had ever experienced and already I loved it. I was glad I had the goggles. The wind was rushing into my face and was quite painful. I could hear the captain shouting but I couldn’t hear any of his words. Besides I was too busy watching the city of London unfold beneath me. In the distance I could see the Houses of Parliament and the Thames which snaked west. I saw that the captain was flying along the river. I suppose it made sense. That way you knew where you were. The aeroplane began to climb and then he banked it. I could now see the aerodrome in the distance with the river close by. He shouted again and I turned to try to see. He pointed down. We were landing.

  If I thought the take off was exciting then it was nothing compared with the landing; the ground rushed towards us and the tents seemed to be within touching distance. We bumped and went up in the air and then settled down again. His lordship swung the tail of the aeroplane round so that it was facing in the
opposite direction and then the propeller stopped. It was silent.

  He was out of the aircraft before me and stood there like an eager child, “Well?”

  “You were right sir. It is wonderful.”

  He clapped his arm around my shoulder. “It is isn’t it? Sorry about the bumpy landing. I am not used to the bus yet. But I’ll get better.” He took off his helmet. He pointed to a rubber tube which was attached to the ear. “I forgot to show you how to attach this to the rubber pipe. It enables us to speak with each other.” He shook his head. “That’s my fault. I am too impetuous. I should have given you a good briefing before we tried that. Still it should be easier in the morning.” We heard a bell. “That’s the bell for the mess tent.”

  One of the cooks came out and yelled, “Jippo!”

  He pointed at the tent to which the sergeants were running. “Go and get fed. I’ll drop the maps off tomorrow. If you could study them tonight then we might not end up paddling across the channel eh?” He strode off whistling; the RFC worked for him; he was as happy as I had even seen him.

  I dumped my helmet and my coat and picked up my mess kit. The first visit to a mess was always an ordeal. I knew that from our Yeomanry mess. When we had new men you could see the nervousness. Where should they sit? Who were the ones they shouldn’t offend? What protocols and written rules were there? I knew I would make a mistake or two and I resolved to make the best of it.

  The tent was almost deserted. I saw the armourer and quartermaster sergeants in one corner. The two Flight Sergeants I had spoken to were just sitting down when I went in. I collected my food and asked, “Mind if I sit here, lads?”

  The one who had given me the advice said, “Free country pal.”

  “Thanks and thanks for the advice.”

  “No problem. Us Flights have to stick together don’t we?”

  I nodded in a non-committal manner. “Tell me, how did you know I was new?”

  They both grinned at each other. “The coat.”

  “The coat? I thought it was standard issue.”

  “It is but it is bloody useless. It isn’t warm enough and when it gets wet it makes the front end of the aeroplane heavy and almost impossible to fly.”

  The other one said, “That’s why you need either a leather coat or a fur coat or a combination of both. Your officer, he has a coat from America, like the cowboys wear, a duster. It is made of hide and underneath it he wears a fur waistcoat. He’s warm and dry.”

  “And your gloves. They are useless too. They keep your hands warm but you can’t pull the triggers on the Lewis and you can’t change the magazine easily.”

  “What you need is some fingerless gloves to wear underneath and you tie a string on the gloves and pass it through the arms of your coat so when you drop them to fire the gun you don’t lose them.” He chewed his meat and pulled a piece of gristle from it. “Get yourself a balaclava and wear it under the helmet; otherwise your ears will freeze.”

  “Thanks lads.” I held out my hand, “I am Sergeant Bill Harsker.”

  The first one shook mine and said, “No you’re not, you are Flight Sergeant Bill Harsker. The flight part gets you more pay.” He tapped the side of his nose, “I am Gordon Hewitt, call me Gordy and this miserable looking bugger is Ted Thomas.” He leaned back and lit a cigarette. “Someone told me you’ve already been over there,” he gestured with his thumb, “in France.”

  “Aye, I was in the cavalry. I was invalided out.”

  They leaned forward both interested now. “We both changed to the RFC before the BEF left for France. Tell us what was it like?”

  How could I begin to describe it? I put my palms flat on the table and leaned back. “There were thirty blokes in my troop. Twenty nine good ‘uns and an officer, who was about as much use as a one legged man in an arse kicking contest.” They looked at each other and smiled; that type of officer was a common bird. There are four survivors: me, a cracking old sergeant now retired, my mate Robbie who lost his left hand and…”

  I let Gordy finish the sentence off, “The useless bastard.” They both nodded.

  “You’ve got it. No, it was no fun. The day of cavalry is over. Horses weren’t made to charge machine guns but this is the future.”

  “It is but don’t think it will be easy.”

  “I thought you hadn’t been in combat.”

  “We haven’t but unlike some of the chinless wonders who fly us we know the limitations of our aircraft. That’s why you need to learn how to fly as soon as you can. Our old trainers had dual controls. If the pilot bought it you could land it if you could fly. If not then you are already in your wooden box.”

  Ted chuckled, “Except these only get cremated.”

  “Now these new ones have a major flaw.” I looked at him expectantly. “The Hun can come from behind. You cannot turn the gun to cover the back and so Herr Fritz will keep firing until either your pilot is dead or he hits the engine block. Either way, you are dead.”

  Ted nodded, “And in our case, because we have the most experience we have been given the new Loots. We need every trick we can lay our hands on.”

  “What can you do?”

  “Did you shoot when you were in the cavalry?”

  “Aye, I was quite a good shot.”

  “Good, then get yourself a rifle and keep it in the front cockpit. That way you make Fritz need a quick change of trousers. You can stand up and fire behind you when he thinks he has you by the short and curlies.”

  “I’m glad I spoke to you two.”

  “Don’t mention it, Bill. Like I said, we need to stick together. All the pilots do is get us over the enemy. It is our job to observe and fire the guns.”

  When I got to my tent I found the maps and an oil lamp. I lit the lamp. Its light illuminated my balaclava, scarf and gloves. “Thanks mum; you’ve saved my life if you did but know it.”

  I was up bright and early the next day. In the mess tent I saw the armourer. He was alone and I felt happy about approaching him, “Flight?”

  He looked up from his fried bread and bacon. He looked as though he was trying to recognise me. Enlightenment dawned. “You’re the new bloke. What can I do you for?”

  “I need a rifle and some .303 ammo.”

  He laughed, “I see you’ve been talking to Ted and Gordy. Come to the tent after breakfast and I’ll sort you.” He rubbed his fingers together.

  I went for my own food. I assumed that it was the same in the RFC as the Yeomanry. You had to pay for little extras. You did not use money. You had a ration of tobacco each week. I didn’t smoke and so I had given most of it to my dad. I still had a few ounces of the stuff and I knew the armourer was a smoker. It would be worth it to keep me and his lordship safe.

  He left before me and then Gordy and Ted came into join me. “Wet the bed or something?”

  I laughed, “No, I just needed to see the armourer. He is getting me a rifle.”

  They began eating. Ted said, between mouthfuls, “I hear you are navigating today?” I nodded. “Ever done that before?”

  “From the air? No. But I was the one who lead the regiment around northern France reading a map. I travelled through the area around Amiens before.”

  “It’s different from the air you know.”

  I nodded. I had studied the maps and thought this through. “I know, it should be easier. You can see features like rivers and towns easier from the air. You want to try it on the back of a horse with hedges all around you.”

  Gordy grinned and lit a cigarette, “He’s right, Ted.” He gestured at his morose friend. “I told you before, Ted is a miserable half empty sort of bloke. It’s bad enough flying with a couple of virgins but Ted thought you didn’t know one end of a map from another.”

  Ted looked indignant, “Now don’t put words in my mouth. I can offend people easy enough all on my own.” He gave what passed as a smile, “You learn to look out for yourself so no offence intended.”

  “And none taken. I’d be jus
t as curious if you two had joined the cavalry. At least with a horse the front end is where you expect it to be.”

  Gordy laughed, “You mean the pusher? It works well enough and it means you can fire forward. The Avro meant you had to fire up all the time.”

  Ted shook his head, “And guess which unlucky bugger is flying in an Avro today?” He pointed at himself. “Muggins!”

  “We shouldn’t meet anything should we?”

  Gordy shrugged. “We could do. Make sure you check your Lewis and have your rifle ready.”

  I exchanged the tobacco. The armourer charged me more than he should have but I didn’t smoke and I would soon make up the loss. As I took the rifle to the aeroplane I wondered if it had been cleaned and degreased. I would have to wait until we landed in France for that particular task. Having spoken to Gordy and Ted I knew that I had to pack the aircraft well. Luckily I did not have too much gear to take. I draped the coat over the wing; I would not need that until airborne. However I did wear the fur lined boots. I placed the Luger and rifle in the bottom of the cockpit. I still had the bandoliers from my days in the cavalry and I packed the ammunition in those.

  I clambered into the cockpit to stow all the gear. My two new friends had impressed upon me the need for balance. “Keep everything in the middle and don’t put anything in the nose. That Lewis gun is heavy enough as it is.”

  With everything stowed I checked the Lewis gun. I had fired one before and knew the action. I had one magazine fitted and a spare one. I had less than a hundred bullets in the two magazines. I did not fancy trying to reload the magazine in the air. It appeared to function correctly but I would strip it and clean it along with the rifle once we had landed.