1915 Fokker Scourge (British Ace Book 2)

by Griff Hosker

  He managed it well.

  “Well Charlie, I think you are ready. Take the Avro out yourself tomorrow. Go solo. Then we will see the colonel and ask him to test you.”

  “Thank you sir. Do you think I can pass?”

  “Of course.”

  We both looked up when we heard the engines coming from the west. It was the replacement aeroplanes and pilots. Lorries had been bringing spares, gunners and mechanics for a week and we knew that something was up.

  “And it looks as if you have chosen the best time too. Something is up.”

  The despatch rider who roared in was my warning that there was an important message for us. When I was summoned within five minutes of his departure I became intrigued.

  The colonel and the major were waiting. “You know that, further south, the Germans have attacked the French at Verdun?”

  “Yes sir, we heard the rumours.”

  “Apparently their reconnaissance aeroplanes are being knocked out of the sky with alarming regularity and the French gunners are blind. It seems they want you and your flight for a couple of weeks until they can get their new aeroplanes delivered to the front. You will be based at Thierville.”

  “But I don’t speak French sir!”

  He smiled, “Then let us say that you are continuing your education. You will learn. Captain Marshall will arrange for a sergeant and two mechanics to accompany you in a lorry with spares. They will be leaving within the hour. I would suggest that you do the same.”

  The major handed me a map. “It is about two hundred miles from here and you will be close to the German border. Do not get lost.” He was grinning.

  Chapter 20

  Freddy and Johnny were happy about what they considered to be an adventure. They were still little more than schoolboys. One good piece of news was that they both spoke French. Lieutenant Holt had rudimentary French but Lieutenant Carrick could speak it well.

  Ted was in the officers’ mess. “I’ll be away for a couple of weeks. I have been ordered to take the flight down to Verdun.”

  He looked disappointed, “It will be quiet around here without you.”

  “Look after my letters for me will you. I am not sure how easy it will be to send them from the French sector.”

  “Will do.”

  I found Charlie by the FE 2. “Sergeant Sharp, we will have to wait a while for the pilot test. We are off to fight with the French down at Verdun.”

  “Righto sir. If you bring me your bag I will stow it here.”

  “There is a lorry going down with spares.”

  “Aye I know sir but that doesn’t mean it will get there before you need a change of clothes. I’ll pack them on the bus it will be safer that way.”

  We were ready to leave just ten minutes after the lorry left. “You two keep on my tail.” I showed them the map. “We have to take a couple of detours because of German activity so make sure your observer keeps his eye on me.”

  We took off, the aeroplane slightly heavier than usual. Sharp had packed a can of fuel in case we needed it. We had a range of two hundred and fifty miles but that did not account for headwinds and problems along the way.

  The first hundred or so miles took us over unspoilt countryside. Spring was just around the corner but there was still a chill in the air. When we neared the French sector we saw more evidence of fighting. There were scars on the landscape showing where fighting had taken place.

  Our new home was just twenty miles from the front and I saw balloons along the front and adjacent to the airfield. This was a little too close to the Germans for my liking. As we circled I noticed that the aeroplanes were biplanes with tractor engines. There looked to be the old Caudron G3 and the slightly newer Nieuport 12. Some of our squadrons flew them. I could see why they needed us. The Caudron was unarmed and the Nieuport had one machine gun in the rear cockpit. They were like the BE 2; they were Fokker fodder.

  Old habits die hard and I parked on the opposite side of the field from the parked French aeroplanes. I did not expect to see the lorry. It would take at least twice as long as we had to reach Thierville. Sharp took out our bags and we slung them across our shoulders. The others had sent their bags on the lorry.

  We strode across the field to the buildings. I was pleased to see that we would not be in tents. I saw a flag fluttering from a large hut and I headed for that. It seemed logical that they would identify the headquarters thus. I knocked on the door. I recognised, “Entrez!” It was a good start.

  “You sergeants wait outside. Have a smoke. Sharp, watch my bag and you two come in with me.”

  The three of us stepped into an office which reeked of the powerful Gitanes cigarette. It was a sergeant and he recognised our rank. He leapt to his feet and saluted.

  “Un moment.”

  He stuck his head through the door of the inner office and fired off a barrage of French. I understood not a word. A captain came out and immediately began to chatter away in French. I did not get one word.

  I held up my hand, “Sorry. I don’t speak French.” I could order moules and frites, I could ask for a beer, I could even enquire about a room but beyond that and please and thank you I had not the first clue.

  He looked confused. I nodded to Carrick who spoke as rapidly as the French Captain. I was relieved when a smile appeared on his face.

  “This is Captain Mandeville, he is the adjutant of the squadron. He welcomes us to his field.”

  He spoke again and Holt went towards the door. “He said he will take us to our quarters and introduce us to the commander.”

  As we stepped outside I said to the sergeants. “You had best follow us.”

  “Sir.”

  Suddenly the French Captain stopped and pointed at our aeroplanes. “Captain Mandeville asked me if those antiquated machines are ours.”

  I could answer this one, “Oui!”

  The captain spoke again and I saw Carrick colour. He pointed at me and began rattling words off. The Captain looked at me and said, “Vraiment?”

  Carrick said, “Oui.”

  “What did you say Carrick?”

  “He said it was a shame to bring us all the way down here. When we were shot down and killed our families would have a long way to come to visit our graves.”

  “And?”

  “And I told him how many Fokkers you had destroyed.”

  More French resulted and Carrick said, “He apologises and looks forward to hearing how they cope with the fearsome Fokker.”

  We walked to a barracks and Carrick said, “This is the Sergeants’ mess, Sergeant Sharp.”

  “Righto sir,” he saw my frown, “don’t you worry, Captain Harsker. We can manage.”

  I picked up my bag and slung it over my shoulder. Captain Mandeville gave me a look which suggested I had committed an indiscretion. I did not care. We had been asked for and they would take us, warts and all.

  “This is our barracks sir. The captain apologises but we have to share a room.”

  “Tell him that is not a problem.” I dumped my bag in the small room with four beds, a small table and two chairs. It would do.

  Colonel Berthier was not what I expected. For some reason I expected a French version of Lord Burscough but he was more like a French version of Ted. He did, fortunately, speak English and he spoke it well with a slight American accent. After Captain Mandeville had spoken briefly to him he shook my hand, “Welcome Captain Harsker. We are grateful that you have come. I understand that you have had some success against this Fokker menace?”

  “I have shot down a couple.”

  He smiled, “Do not be modest, Captain. You have shot down ten and just been awarded a medal for your courage. I look forward to flying with you tomorrow.”

  That was a shock. I had expected a day or so to become used to the area. “Right sir. I will go and see my crews and we will make sure that our aeroplanes are ready.”

  He looked surprised. “We have mechanics.”

  “I know sir but it is
just my way. I prefer to help my sergeant work on the aeroplane. That way I know it will not let me down.”

  He nodded, “That is sensible and I wish that some of my officers would take such an interest.”

  “Can I say sir, that your English is excellent? Where did you learn it?”

  “America. I was sent there as a young officer to see how they operated their aeroplanes. It was most illuminating. I will see you at dinner.”

  As we left I said, “Johnny, go and fetch the sergeants. We have a great deal of work to do.” Walking across the field I said, “Thank you for translating Freddy. I don’t know what I would have done without you but don’t build me up too much eh? It is a long way to fall.”

  “Sorry sir, it’s just when he had a go at you and the bus I got a bit upset.”

  “Don’t worry, I have thick skin and I can look after myself, but I do appreciate your sentiment.”

  When the sergeants joined us I explained that we would be flying the next day. “Good job I packed a couple of extra magazines sir.”

  “Well done Laithwaite. Now, have you any idea where the fuel bowser is to be found?”

  Charlie pointed to the far side of the field. “When we have serviced them I’ll go and get Alain he said he would fill them up for us.”

  “He speaks English?”

  “Not exactly sir but it is amazing how far you can get with sign language and a couple of words in the other’s language.” He leaned in. “Don’t tell the colonel but we have been saving our rum ration and Alain is partial to a drop of rum! That bit of barter helped too.”

  The resourcefulness of the British soldier never ceased to amaze me. We worked until we heard the bell which signified the evening meal. We had only to fuel the aeroplanes and we would be ready.

  “Right chaps better wash up and keep your eyes and ears open. I have no idea what customs they have here. You are all bright lads. I am sure you’ll manage.”

  “Yes sir.”

  As Freddy, Johnny and I washed up I said, “We are damned lucky with our sergeants. They are, all three, worth their weight in gold.”

  “I must say sir, I was quite worried about them before I joined. “ I must have given him a quizzical look for he shrugged. “We were a little bit protected and cosseted at boarding schools. The local lads frightened me. They seemed so big and tough. They used to spit, swear and fight a lot. I expected that from the enlisted men.”

  That had been me growing up. It was just the way we were. You learned how to spit and you learned how to defend yourself. It was as simple as that. “I am pleased that your eyes have been opened.”

  The mess was a little more formal than ours but I was pleased that they did not expect our dress uniforms; we had not brought them. A French Captain sat on one side of me and a young Lieutenant on the other. I was dreading the conversation. In the end it proved fairly simple. I was able to point at things and either Guy, the Captain, or Pierre, the Lieutenant, would say the French word. I was more comfortable around food and drink rather than around tactics and flying. Any difficult words were translated by either Holt, or more usually, Carrick.

  They were both fascinated by our Gunbuses. They used tractor aeroplanes and thought that our pusher engine aeroplanes looked ungainly.

  “Wait and see.”

  They discovered how many Fokkers I had destroyed from a slip of the tongue from Carrick who looked abashed. They asked me if that was all me or my gunner and me. When I told them it was all me they were even more impressed.

  When they opened up about their experiences I could tell it had been a nightmare. Their pilots lasted hours not days and they could not get replacements fast enough. It seemed that the only hope was the new fighter which was almost ready to be shipped to them. Now I understood our presence. We were the boy with the finger in the dyke. We were the stopgap. If we could buy them a few days then it might make all the difference. The Germans, it appeared, were close to breaking through at Verdun and unless this squadron could spot for the artillery they would break through very quickly. Our three aeroplanes were all that stood between survival and disaster.

  I made sure we had little to drink, even though there was plenty on offer, and that we had an early night. The next day promised to be lively.

  As we completed our last minute checks Sergeant Sharp said, “They are rum buggers these French sir. They can’t half drink. The food is a bit good though. We had something called cock oh van. Tasty, mind.”

  “The language wasn’t a problem?”

  “No, sir and I am learning a little. If we are here any length of time it might be handy.”

  I took Holt and Carrick to one side. “God knows what we can expect today. We may have to be adaptable but I couldn’t be happier with you two as my wingmen. I have the best in the squadron.” They smiled at the praise. “We will use our arrow formation. They don’t know us and will not be expecting that. If there are large numbers then we might have to split up. Watch for my signal. If things get hairy do not be afraid to get back to the field. It is our first day and I would like us to be here for a second.”

  “What about the French sir?”

  “Don’t worry about the French, Freddy. If they want to have a go at someone then my shoulders are broad enough. One more thing; the Germans in this sector may not know about the pilot’s Lewis. Let your gunner fire and when he reloads then you can fire. It might give them a surprise. You both have good gunners and Sergeant Sharp is the best. I am not worried.” And, as we taxied, I realised that I was not.

  There were three Nieuports flying that day. I discovered they were the last three. The colonel himself was flying. He had confided to me the night before that he could not, in all conscience, send young pilots to be slaughtered by these Fokkers. We let them take off first. I then took my flight and climbed to five hundred feet above them. The French artillery was silent. They were waiting for the signal lamps of the spotters. Below I saw the blue uniforms of the French in the trenches and, ahead, the grey of the Germans. The German battalions were advancing already. They still had to run the gauntlet of the machine guns but there were no French 75s hurling shrapnel at them.

  The three aeroplanes began to flash their lamps and I took us a little higher. The first of the shells began to explode in the air. They were firing short. I had no further opportunity to observe the battle for Sharp shouted, “Three Fokkers sir!

  I saw him cock his gun and, in the distance, the three Germans in line astern. “Right, Sharp, let’s go.”

  We had the advantage of height and speed. I used both. I cocked my Lewis as we swooped down towards the first Fokker. Sharp fired at the same time as the Fokker. Neither did much damage. I suddenly realised that this pilot was going to do the turn, I had learned the previous night was called, the Immelmann Turn.

  “Charlie, he is going to try that turn. Get on the rear Lewis.”

  Sharp was more agile than Lumpy and he spun around and cocked the gun. The Eindecker was barely ten feet above us when Charlie began to fire. He emptied the magazine and I saw flames from the German’s engine as he spiralled to the ground. Even as he had been firing the second Fokker had been closing. He opened fire. The gunners of my two wingmen opened fire too and he was caught in crossfire. I felt a sharp kick on my leg. It was the sort of sensation you got as a kid playing football when you were kicked in the shin. It stung but I carried on. The last Fokker was hurtling towards us.

  “Sharp, duck!”

  As Sharp ducked I pulled my trigger and I kept firing until I heard the click of an empty chamber. I actually saw the bullets as they tore through his propeller and turned his face into a piece of raw meat. He too spiralled down to the ground.

  “Any more out there?”

  “Not that I can see sir.”

  “Right, reload both Lewis guns.” I waved to the other two to take line astern. That way we were ready to protect each other. I saw that the French guns were now cutting the Germans down as though they were using a scythe.
Even as we watched the attack stalled and we saw the Germans begin to pull back.

  “Sir, the French are leaving.”

  I looked down and saw the three spotter aeroplanes heading west. I began a lazy turn to fetch up on the stern of the last aeroplane. We would shepherd them to safety.

  Chapter 21

  From our reception, when we landed, you would have thought that the war had just ended. Two of the pilots and the three observers mobbed us and pumped our hands. Whatever they said it was far too fast for me. Colonel Berthier lit a cigar and waited until they had left me to congratulate my bemused lieutenants.

  He shook my hand and nodded, “I now see why you have such success. You and your gunner are fearless. How does a man stand on a cockpit like that and fire?” I laughed and he said, seriously, “No, I mean it, how does he do it? It looks impossible to me.”

  “It is not easy.”

  “You have done this?”

  “I was a Sergeant Gunner before I became a pilot. You need to have trust between a pilot and the man standing on the cockpit. Sergeant Sharp knew that I would keep flying straight and level.”

  “Even with them firing at you?” He walked to the front of the Gunbus. The others were examining it too. There were at least fifty bullet holes in it. They must have hit when Sharp was standing and shooting down his Fokker. He had been lucky.

  Suddenly Freddy shouted, “Sir, your leg! It is bleeding. You have been hit!”

  I looked down and there was blood seeping from my leg. I remembered the hit on my shin. It must have been a spent round. “It isn’t serious. When the lorry gets here see if they can repair the front of the bus.”

  The colonel shook his head. “And you my friend will get to the hospital. Such courage. Now I see why they gave you a medal. I begin to believe that we will beat these Boche!”