by Jon E. Lewis
I should think that most people, after an experience like that, would have stopped flying for a while; but not so Bowman, for he was up the very next day. Bowman now tells me that he has finished with balloons and does not like them, and he has good cause, too. You will remember his first experience with a balloon on Mount Kemmel in the autumn of 1916, when we were both in the same squadron.
On December 12th my patrol went over the lines near Vendhuille, where there was much enemy activity, and very soon we were fighting over Bourlon Wood, but, gaining no decision, went south and engaged some Pfalz and Albatros scouts who were firing into our trenches near Villers.
We dispersed these Huns and went north to Cantaing and, on looking west, I saw a Hun two-seater just below the clouds at 4,000 feet over Hermies, about four miles west of our lines, so I led the patrol towards him. I knew if I stayed below the clouds he would go into them, so just before I got to him nose on, I went into the clouds to get above, and as soon as my patrol were above the clouds I dived down below them, so now the Hun was for it, whatever way he went. As I dived down I went quite close to the Hun and opened fire with my Vickers, for my Lewis was out of action. For the next five minutes I fought that D.F.W. from 4,000 to 500 feet over our lines, and at last I broke off the combat, for the Hun was too good for me and had shot me about a lot. Had I persisted he certainly would have got me, for there was not a trick he did not know, and so I gave that liver-coloured D.F.W. best.
On December 15th I left the ground at 10 a.m. to pursue German machines alone. I climbed steadily and very soon got up to 18,000 feet, when I saw a German machine in the distance coming towards our lines. I waited in the sun until he came quite close, but he turned north and, being just above the line, I would not attack him yet, for I wanted him to fall in our lines. Also there was a very strong westerly wind high up, which was against my tactics. I followed behind him for some time until I realised that he was not going far over our lines, so I then dived on him from 19,800 feet, for the Hun was at 19,000 feet. I closed on him and opened fire, but I had misjudged my speed and was over-shooting him, so I had to do a turn to avoid running into him.
The next I saw of him he was diving steeply away to the east. I caught him up again, but could not defeat him, for the pilot was good and gave his gunner every opportunity, and I had to leave him very soon, for the wind being strong from the west I was now miles over Hunland, so I returned west.
By the time I had got to our lines the whole sky seemed alive with Hun two-seaters, and so I at once engaged another Rumpler over Villers. He at once ran away, but I overhauled him slowly and finally fired a long burst at 400 yards range, after which the Rumpler got into a steep right-hand spiral. Then he came out of it and went down in a straight dive, finally crashing just east of the Bois de Vaucelles. Having no more petrol with me for any length of time I flew back to my aerodrome.
On this day I was awarded the Distinguished Service Order, and also received a telegram of congratulation from the G.O.C., R.F.C., General Trenchard, C.B., D.S.O.8
On December 19th we lost Maybery, the “A” Flight Commander. His and my formation were working in conjunction with each other, and he was below me. We crossed the lines over Ribecourt and flew towards Cambrai, and very soon saw eight V-strutters about our own height. They were not offensively inclined, so very soon Captain Maybery, followed by his formation, dived on some Huns over Bourlon Wood at about 6,000 feet. As I went down to follow, the eight Huns from north of Cambrai came towards us, and I had to pull out of the dive and fight these Albatroses. We fought them until they dispersed, but did not gain any decisive result.
I could now see Maybery’s formation very low going towards the lines, as though to reform, and so I flew down south towards Vaucelles Wood, over which I saw three Albatroses, on whom we leapt with great vigour. We fought these three Huns for a time, but they eventually went down east quite all right. We now flew up towards Bourlon Wood, where we encountered “green-tail” and a brown Pfalz. We scrapped these two for over half an hour, and with no result, for they co-operated wonderfully, and put up a magnificent show, for we could not attack either of them without having the other after us. There were now only three of us, and we did our very best to get one of them, but to no avail. After a time they both went down, apparently for some more petrol or ammunition, and we flew home.
At tea-time no Maybery appeared, and late that night he was reported missing. Woodman, of his formation, said they dived on some Huns over Bourlon, and Maybery got his in flames at once, but whilst firing at it he was leapt on by the “green-tail” Albatros. Then Woodman saw Maybery’s machine going down out of control. Maybery’s last victim was his twentieth. A few weeks later the Huns dropped a note to say that Maybery was dead.
Maybery had served some time in the cavalry, the 21st Lancers, and he was all for cavalry tactics in the air. He said that whenever Huns were seen they should at once be attacked, and we always argued as to the best way of fighting the Hun in the air. My system was to always attack the Hun at his disadvantage if possible, and if I were attacked at my disadvantage I usually broke off the combat, for in my opinion the Hun in the air must be beaten at his own game, which is cunning. I think that the correct way to wage war is to down as many as possible of the enemy at the least risk, expense and casualties to one’s own side. At the same time, when one is taken at his advantage and one has to fight, one always has enough common sense to fight him like anything, for, as far as fighting the Hun in the air is concerned, nothing succeeds like boldness, and the Hun is usually taken aback when boldness is displayed.
On December 22nd I flew from our aerodrome down to St. Quentin, and arrived by myself west of that town at about 15,000 feet. The visibility was good, and I knew I should not have to wait long before an enemy came over our line barefaced to take photos. The Huns usually take the photos about the hours of eleven and twelve, for the sun is then at its brightest and the ground shadows are small. Very soon I was up to 17,000 feet, and then two D.F.W.’s came directly underneath me over Holnon Wood.
I went down at once and, selecting one very quickly, disabled him, and he started to go down, so I left him to glide down in our lines while I tackled the second one. The second one had seen me get the first, for they were both close together, and he fought as though for his life, but I maintained my firing position and shot him about a lot all the way back to the lines. Then I looked over my shoulder and saw that the first Hun was gliding east, so I left the second Hun, who could have easily interfered with me, and again attacked the disabled one. But the second one was not made of that kind of stuff, for he flew off east as hard as he could and absolutely deserted his charge.
On approaching the first Hun again I could not see the gunner – he was most likely playing poker on the floor of his cockpit – and the pilot was gliding straight. I tried to head him west but he would not go, so I was forced to fire a lot more ammunition at him, after which he went into a flat spiral glide, and then crashed in our lines just southwest of St. Quentin.
Then as I zoomed away I saw that my windscreen was covered with blood. At first I thought my nose was bleeding but soon assured myself that it was not. Then I saw that the blood was on the outside of my screen.
Not having much more petrol I flew back to the aerodrome and landed, after which I walked around my machine and found it covered with blood from the Hun two-seater. This is absolutely true, for I have a dozen different people who will vouch for it. I was very surprised, for I have never known of a parallel case. I remember that I flew for a long time directly under him, and he did not turn, so I concluded that I got the blood from him then.
The next day, the 23rd of December, I brought down four German two-seater machines, three of which fell in our lines. I left the ground at 10.30 and flew down to my happy hunting ground west of St. Quentin; and very soon saw an L.V.G. come west from St. Quentin at 17,000 feet, so I waited until he was well west of the lines and then I attacked him. I got into position and
, after firing a short burst at him, he started gliding down, emitting steam and water. I could see that he was disabled, and so I tried to head him off west, as he was going south-east towards La Fère. At first he turned a little, and the observer stood up holding on with one hand and waving at me with the other, apparently in token of surrender, but the pilot was still flying south-east and by this time was very near his lines, so I was forced to fire another burst into the L.V.G., which went down in a steep dive and crashed on the canal bank at Anguilcourt, which is in the enemy lines a little north-east of La Fère.
Then I turned away and flew up north, and on my way was joined by a French Spad, who apparently came to see why I was bringing Huns down in his sector. I always was a poacher out in France, for although my area was from Arras to just south of Cambrai, I would get a Hun one day at Lens and the next at La Fère, fifty miles south.
I flew north climbing, for I had finished the L.V.G. off at about 6,000 feet, and very soon was up to 14,000 feet. There the French Spad left me, deciding that it was too cold, for at this period the weather was bitter, with a biting easterly wind.
At 17,000 feet, on looking west I saw a Hun very high over Péronne, and so I remained east of him, climbing steadily. After 15 minutes I got up to his level at 18,200 feet over Péronne. He now saw me and climbed for a little while trying to outclimb me, but he could not, for my machine was still going up well; but had we both been at 19,000 feet instead of 18,000 he could have outclimbed me, for the Rumplers at 20,000 are extremely efficient with their heavily-cambered wing, whereas the S.E. at that height, although it is fast, has not much climb on account of its flat wing section. However, I was now up at the Rumpler’s height, and he tried to run for it.
I soon got into position but found that he was every bit as fast as I was, although I was able to keep up with him, because as he swerved to allow his gunner to fire at me, he lost a certain amount of speed. I fought him down from 18,000 to 8,000 feet and he tried hard to save his life, but after a final burst from both my machine-guns his right-hand wings fell off and I very nearly flew into them.
The Rumpler’s wreckage fell in our lines at Contescourt, west of St. Quentin. Now Sergeant-Major Cox was out with a lorry salving the D.F.W. which I shot down on the previous day, and as he was in the locality he saw this Rumpler hurtle down. He decided to collect it as well, and he was not surprised when he got back to the Squadron and found that it was mine as well. This Rumpler was my thirtieth victim.
Next I flew north, climbing, and arrived over Havrincourt Wood, familiarly known as “Mossy-face,” and very soon saw two L.V.G.’s east of me over Gouzaucourt at about 17,000 feet. I at once gave chase, and they turned east. I fought them for about five minutes, but could not gain a decision for they both co-operated well, and very soon I left them for I hadn’t much more petrol. Whilst I was fighting these two, they were both using their front guns as well as the rear, and so I had a fairly warm time.
On returning to the aerodrome I was very pleased with things, so after having had lunch I led my patrol towards the lines at about 2 p.m. Whilst on the way at 14,000 feet over Fins, I saw a Rumpler coming towards us from the lines. He did not see us until too late, and then turned away. I caught up with him, got my firing position, and fired a good long burst from both guns, after which the Hun went down in a steep right-hand spiral, and crashed in our lines near Gouzaucourt.
By this time I was down to 6,000 feet, so after reforming my patrol we flew north. There we saw our friends of the varied-coloured tails above us over Bourlon Wood, so I led the patrol south; and after climbing for twenty minutes we got above the Albatros scouts, in a position to attack, and we dived on them just south of Bourlon Wood at about 13,000 feet.
At once “green tail” did his usual trick, which was, as soon as we attacked his patrol, to fly off east and, being alone, to climb above the dog fight, and then, coming back much higher, to pick off any of my men who were not looking. I had seen him do this several times, but this time, when he came back above the fight, he found one above him, so he went off at once.
Meanwhile my patrol were having a fine time, for the Huns, although at a disadvantage, continued fighting us from underneath, and kept standing on their tails shooting up at us. This lasted until we got down fairly low over Bourlon Wood, so I then fired a recall signal, and the patrol came back to reform.
We went west climbing, and then, seeing a British Archie bursting to the south of us, and flying in that direction, I soon saw an L.V.G. over Trescault at about 12,000 feet, apparently doing a reconnaissance.
I signed for Archie to stop, which he did, and after firing a burst from both my guns, I saw the L.V.G. heel over on its wing-tip. It flew along with its wings vertical and with the gunner hanging on to the cabane leaning into the pilot’s cockpit. The L.V.G. then stalled and spun, and after that went down just like a leaf, and took at least three minutes to crash. It landed on a light gauge train in a vertical dive and knocked some trucks off the line.
After that I went down quite low, and saw thousands of our Tommies rushing from everywhere to look at the fallen Hun. Having circled round for a while I flew back to the aerodrome feeling very satisfied, having totally destroyed four enemy two-seaters that day.
When I landed the O.C. asked me if I was the culprit, for three Huns had already been reported brought down in our lines by an S.E.5, so I replied that I was. That evening a lot of us went into Amiens and had a dinner to celebrate the event. The weekly R.F.C. communiqué, referring to the event, stated that this was the first time four enemy machines had been totally destroyed in one day by one pilot. I also received a telegram of congratulation from General Trenchard and from several other senior officers of the R.F.C.
The weather at this time was bitterly cold, with the winter’s prevailing easterly wind. At this time of the year I used to go up day after day waiting at 17,000 up to 20,000 feet for the German two-seaters, who were always over our lines during the clear visibility.
I expect some of those Huns got a shock when they came over at 18,000 feet and were dived on by an S.E. from above, for in the winter it was an exception to the rule to see an S.E. above 17,000 feet, which was the ceiling of the average 200 h.p. S.E. with its war load. My machine had so many little things done to it that I could always go up to 20,000 feet whenever I liked, and it was mainly the interest which I took in my machine which enabled me to get up so high.
By getting high I had many more fights over our lines than most people, because they could not get up to the Rumplers’ height, and so could not engage them successfully.
On Xmas Day I went up for a while but the atmosphere not being clear enough for the enemy to work successfully, I soon came down again. We had a very quiet Xmas, for Bowman, our star turn in the mess, was in England on leave, having a thorough good time.
On December 28th I left the ground about 10.15 a.m. in a strong north-easterly wind, which is always very favourable to my method of fighting. It was a beautiful morning, clear, frosty and intensely cold, for on the ground the glass was registering twenty degrees of frost. I liked nothing better than these mornings, when I could go up high, with my engine, guns, and machine going perfectly, and stalk the Hun two-seaters who came over to take photographs daily.
I got up to 17,000 feet in half an hour, and very soon saw a Rumpler coming towards me, slightly lower, from the direction of Bourlon Wood. We were very close, and, getting into position quickly, I fired a short burst from both guns, and the Rumpler went into a right-hand spiral dive. Then his right-hand wings fell off at about 16,000 feet, and the wreckage fell in our lines north of Velu Wood. I watched the wreckage fluttering down like so much waste paper, and saw the fuselage and engine going down at a terrific speed, leaving a trail of blue smoke behind it.
After a look round, I soon saw another Rumpler west of me towards Bapaume, slightly below me. I went over to him and, having got into position, fired a burst from both guns. Flames at once issued from his fuselage, and
he went into a spin at 17,000 feet and took about two minutes to reach the ground, on which he crashed near Flers, which, at that time, was about twenty miles west of the lines. I saw the poor devil strike the ground in a smother of flame.
Then I had a look round and at once saw a German being shelled by British A.A. guns over Havrincourt Wood. I flew all out, and soon overhauled the L.V.G., which at 16,000 feet was much slower than my machine. Whilst I was overtaking him I had to fly through our Archie bursts, as they had not yet seen me, and some of them were unpleasantly close.
As soon as I got within range and opened fire the Hun at once dived for his lines. By the time he had got down to 9,000 feet, diving at 200 miles per hour, I opened fire a second time into him, whereupon he burst into flames, after which the whole machine fell to pieces owing to the speed at which it was going, for I had most likely shot some of his main flying wire, too. This L.V.G. went down in a shower of flaming pieces, and the wreckage finally fell in our lines at Havrincourt village.
I now started climbing again, and having got up to 18,000 feet, again saw an L.V.G. coming south over Lagnicourt. I dived down, but he saw me and ran for it. However, I was much faster, and having got into position, fired a burst from my Lewis, as the Vickers at once stopped. A small flicker of flame came from the L.V.G., but it went out immediately.
By this time I was well over the Hun lines, so I had to return. I last saw the Hun gliding down over Marquion, under control, but certainly damaged, for steam was issuing from his radiator, and the pilot was very energetically kicking his rudder from side to side like wildfire.
Whilst the Hun was going down fast I noticed the observer frantically shouting and waving to the pilot over the left-hand side of the fuselage. I expect he was annoyed, because he was having a hot shower-bath from the damaged radiator. Anyhow, I hope the water froze over him solid and gave him frost-bite.
