CHAPTER FIVE

First Triumphs

‘I can’t write today, except [to say] I love you, and all I do is for you, and I am going to make good. I feel it.’
– William A. Bishop1

By year-end 1916 Billy Bishop must have realised the futility of daydreaming about being appointed a squadron flight commander. For one thing, he still had too little flying experience to hold that position; at this point he had flown as a pilot for a total of twenty-seven hours and thirty-five minutes. ²

But believing in himself and once again applying the value of hard work, Billy continued to fly two-seat trainers and single-seat scouts (as fighter aeroplanes were then called) at every opportunity, even during bitterly cold weather. Consequently, by Saturday, 3 March 1917, he had logged another forty-eight hours in the air – for a total of over seventy-five hours’ flight time.³ Would that amount of time in the air be enough to be considered for advancement? True, he had more than doubled his hours at the controls, but only time would tell whether a squadron commander would feel Billy was ready for leadership of a flight.

Ever eager to show Margaret Burden he was progressing in his work and to tell her about the widening circle of prominent flyers he was meeting, Billy wrote:

‘At last I am going … On Tuesday [6 March] I report to the War Office for orders and after that I expect to go to France on Wednesday. I am to go on “rotary scouts”, which means Sopwith Triplanes, Sopwith Pups or Nieuports. All of these are wonderful machines and I am a lucky boy, indeed. I shall explain the work later; it is all fighting, nothing else.

‘Last night I had dinner with [Albert] Ball, the man who has [received] three DSOs, two MCs⁴ and a foreign order.⁵ He was on Nieuports when he was out [at the Front].’⁶

One can only wonder what the two men discussed, as Billy Bishop did not mention more than that brief comment. If Albert Ball noted their meeting in his diary, that source was last seen ‘in the 1930s … [and] along with other papers [has] disappeared and is not held in the Ball Papers in the Nottingham Archives’, according to the latest Ball biography. ⁷

Posted to 60 Squadron, RFC

On the eve of departing for the Western Front, Billy dashed off a note to Margaret, rein forcing the central role she had in his life:

‘I think I cross tomorrow, back to … France. I have been on the rush here, saying goodbye to people and getting my final arrangements made.

‘I can’t write today, except [to say] I love you, and all I do is for you, and I am going to make good. I feel it.’8

With his personal and professional matters in order, Billy was ready for the challenges that lay ahead of him. His first days with his new squadron were a mixture of feelings:

‘With a dozen other flying men I landed at Boulogne on 7 March 1917, for my second go at the war. At the Boulogne quay we separated … [and] meandered along over the slow French railroads for nearly two days before reaching our destinations.

‘One other pilot [RMC classmate Ernest J.D. Townesend⁹] and I … had been ordered to join [60 Squadron, RFC] on the southern sector of the British line. The squadron … had a great reputation … and we were proud to become members of it. Captain Albert Ball, who was resting in England at the time, but who came back to France in the late spring … had brought down [twenty] Hun machines as a member of “our” squadron. That was an inspiration in itself.’¹⁰

January 1917 line-up of 60 Squadron C Flight Nieuport 17s at Filescamp Farm. Recognizable serial and side numbers are, from left: Lt E.J.L.W. Gilchrist’s A.6646 (C5), Capt H. Meintjes’ A.311 (C1), 2/Lt K.L. Caldwell’s A.307 (C3) and 2/Lt W.M. Fry’s A.274 (C2). (Greg VanWyngarden)

Organisationally, 60 Squadron was one of five units comprising the Royal Flying Corps’ 13th Wing, which was under 3rd Brigade, RFC.¹¹ The squadron was assigned to Filescamp Farm, which one former inhabitant recalled as ‘a fine old place, like a château’¹² outside the village of Izel-lès-Hameau, north west of Arras in the Artois area of northern France. The current frontline, eight miles east of Arras, was easily reached when 60 Squadron needed to respond to hostile air incursions in the area. The location was also home for ‘a vast aerodrome in open countryside, with accommodations for three squadrons … [Living] quarters are most civilised … [with] a pleasant mess, [curved metal] Nissen huts for officers and [non-commissioned officers], a hard tennis court of sorts, and a badminton court in an empty hangar next door. And all this in a large orchard full of luscious fruit trees …’13 Joining 60 Squadron’s Nieuports at Filescamp Farm were 11 Squadron equipped with F.E.2b rear-engined two-seat scout and bomber aircraft, and 29 Squadron with Nieuport Scouts.¹⁴

At his new posting, Billy did not fly Sopwith Pups, with which he was familiar. But, as fighter pilots of all eras need to feel supremely confident that they fly the best aircraft available, Billy quickly embraced the Nieuport 17 Scouts assigned to 60 Squadron. Indeed, he rhapsodised about them, as when he recalled the sight of one at St. Omer the previous autumn:

‘The first I saw was one of the original Nieuport … single-seaters. A little daisy of a ship … with all the daintiness of a Parisienne … [yet] she had an extremely lethal look about her, as if she were the mistress of some nabob … on her way to shoot her lover.’ ¹⁵

Billy began using frontline-area jargon – e.g., referring to Germans as ‘Huns’, without realising the phrase was inspired by Kaiser Wilhelm II himself in 1910.¹⁶ Most of all, the new aeroplanes dominated Billy’s thoughts, even when over-stating their value, as in the following letter to Margaret:

‘At present we have the only [aircraft] the Huns fear, although I think better machines will be out shortly. Anyway, for the first time in my history I am on really good machines. They are … made by the French, and beautifully finished, etc. That and the fact that we have a delightful crowd of pilots here make things quite just what I want.’¹⁷

Lt Billy Bishop in flying gear and Major Jack Scott outside one of the wooden sheds at Filescamp Farm in June 1917. (Dan McCaffery)

Major Jack Scott

Billy arrived at 60 Squadron shortly after the arrival of the unit’s new commanding officer, New Zealand-born Major Alan John Lance Scott – generally known as ‘Jack’. The new CO’s colourful background was described by his friend Sir Frederick Smith, 1st Viscount Birkenhead and Lord Chancellor:

‘[While still in training, Scott’s] machine collapsed when he was at 2,000 feet in the air. During the terrible fall that followed he was working and trying and testing and, when some sixty feet from the ground, he regained a degree of control which saved his life but left him permanently [crippled] …

‘As soon as [Scott] became strong enough to walk unaided, he began again to strain every influence he possessed to obtain leave to go on active service in France. “To fight in an aeroplane,” he said, “is the one thing a lame man could do as well as another…”

‘He had accident after accident, and escape after escape, and those who knew him said that he [led] a charmed life. And he continued to fight in the air … habitually violating the rule which, in the later stages of the struggle, forbade the commanding officers of squadrons to engage personally in air combat. When positively forbidden to engage, he positively refused to obey, saying, “I will not send boys to fight unless I go with them. Lower my rank if you like, and then I can fight”. He met with accident after accident, until hardly a part of his body was quite unscathed, but it seemed as if no risk, or combination of risks, could destroy so tenacious a life or daunt a spirit so buoyant.’18

It is easy to understand how Major Scott – fighting daily to walk with two canes, but driven by an indomitable will, and questioning authority freely – had an air about him that appealed to Billy Bishop. As an added bond, both men began training in Nieuport 17 Scouts at the same time. Billy later wrote:

‘It rather pleased and in a sense comforted me to know that the new [squadron] commander was also [training on Nieuports] … He had been flying up to this time a two-seater [Sopwith] machine, which calls for entirely different tactics during a fight. Two-seater machines … have [rear-seat] guns that can be turned about in different positions. On the fighting scouts they … are rigidly fixed [forward]. This means it is necessary to aim the machine at anything you wish to fire at.’ ¹⁹

Flying Nieuports

From the outset, Lieutenant Bishop and Major Scott understood that the Nieuport 17 Scout had a markedly different wing design than the Sopwith single- and two-seat biplanes with which they were familiar. The Nieuport was a sesquiplane, with the top wing being 3 ft. 11½ inches wide and the bottom wing – which mainly helped to stabilize the machine in flight²⁰ – was 2 feet 4½ inches wide.²¹ The few inches’ variance made a great difference in the way the Nieuport handled and, surely, Billy’s subsequent mastery of the sesquiplane’s distinctive flight characteristics was an important factor in his air combat success with 60 Squadron. Among items Billy mentioned to Margaret was the operational reality of the new aircraft type:

‘Just before I left Merry England, Lady St. Helier gave me a glorious flying coat with fur collar and fur lining. It cost £25. She is a perfect dear, if ever there was one.

‘I have been flying the Nieuports. [Flew] one-and-a-half hours yesterday in them. They are very difficult to fly, but it is a great joy when you can fly them … Tomorrow or the first fine day I go on my first patrol on them. I am looking forward to it very much.

‘Yesterday, two of our people were shot down. One landed safely [within] our lines, but the other, I am afraid, was killed. Poor beggar.’22

The 60 Squadron loss, Lieutenant Arthur D. Whitehead,²³ became the fifteenth victim of Leutnant Werner Voss, a rising star among German aces. The official German victory list for March²⁴ credits Voss with shooting down ‘Nieuport A.279,’ Whitehead’s aeroplane. At the time, Voss flew with the élite unit Jagdstaffel 2, which had been founded by the legendary air combat tactician Oswald Boelcke; 60 Squadron faced some of the top German fighter units.

On Monday, 12 March 1917, 60 Squadron suffered a different form of loss when one of its most successful combat pilots, New Zealand native Captain Keith L. Caldwell, was posted back to England for ten-weeks’ sick leave.²⁵ He had been leader of C Flight. As noted in a tribute from his native land: ‘Keith Caldwell had … a reputation for being fearless and he inspired great confidence in others who flew with him. He had earned the nickname of “Grid” thanks to his habit of referring an aircraft as a “grid”, which was an old [New Zealand] slang term for a bicycle.’ ²⁶

Two days later, Billy Bishop mishandled a Nieuport while landing at Filescamp Farm, but suffered only slightly for his mistake. He wrote:

‘Today [Brigadier-General John F.A. Higgins] was to come over, and I was selected to give an exhibition of flying for him. He didn’t come, so up I went anyway and, coming down, what should I do but spin on one wing-tip when landing, and smash a perfectly good lower wing. I was glad the old boy wasn’t there.’²⁷

Billy’s flight logbook noted only that the lower wing was ‘strained’.²⁸ Apparently he experienced a ground loop, which occurs when aerodynamic forces cause one wing to rise and the other wingtip to touch the ground. It was a momentary scare and Billy had been more fortunate than other 60 Squadron members who had close calls when experiencing Nieuport ‘lower wing twisting’²⁹ due to the sesquiplane design.

Anticipating another Allied advance on the Somme at about this time, German Quartermaster- General Erich Ludendorff ordered a methodically-staged major troop withdrawal to reinforced positions behind the so-called Siegfried Line (known as the Hindenburg Line by Allied forces). Beginning on the evening of Monday, 12 March 1917, Ludendorff ‘arranged for the utter devastation of the whole area inside [the abandoned area] … Houses were demolished, trees cut down, and even wells contaminated, while the wreckage was littered with a multitude of explosive booby-traps,’ according to British historian Basil Liddell Hart.³⁰

At the end of the week, on Friday, 17 March, Billy made his first flight over the lines with 60 Squadron. The aeroplane he flew – Nieuport 17 A.274 – was more of an air combat veteran than Billy.31 It had arrived brand new at the squadron four months earlier and had been flown by several pilots who achieved aerial victories in it.³² Typically, the aeroplane was passed down to a new man, which proved to be a wise policy, as Billy ‘crashed’ on landing and ‘damaged’ it that day.³³ Prior to that event, the aeroplane gave Billy a good ride over the abandoned area, where British forces pursued withdrawing German troops. He wrote about the new wasteland and pointed out a squadron-mate’s unusual air attack on German soldiers:

‘You should see the [battlefield] here now. This advance is just in front of us, and it is the most extraordinary thing to see. We flew over yesterday³⁴ only 500 feet high and hardly a shot [was] fired at us. It is so hard to tell just where [German troops] are … [Lieutenant George] Lloyd flew over and threw some rotten turnips at some Huns he saw on a road.’³⁵

As Billy Bishop gained experience by flying with veteran squadron pilots over the lines, he was assigned to one of three formations (called flights) and informed Margaret:

‘I am now in C Flight and my machine,³⁶ which is newly painted in brown and green dabs, has the huge letters C6 on [the fuselage]. It is a glorious machine, having an exceptionally good engine, which is running beautifully at present. In other words it is a good “grid”.’³⁷

Major Jack Scott was also very enthusiastic about the Nieuport 17 and, in that mood, hailed it as:

‘[The] best fighting machine on either side. Strong in construction … it could turn inside any German aeroplane we encountered. It was not very fast, but, with an exceptionally good climb [rate] to 10,000 feet, it was no bad “grid” on which to go Hun-hunting …

‘It was armed with a single Lewis [machine] gun carrying a double drum [each] with ninety [-seven] rounds³⁸ of .303 [-calibre] ammunition and two spare drums. The gun was mounted on the top [wing] and fired over the propeller at an angle slightly above the horizontal. The earlier [RFC] Nieuports were all treated with a bright silver-coloured “dope” – the substance used to tighten the fabric – and when properly turned out had a very smart appearance. Another characteristic of all [Nieuport] types was the V-shaped interplane struts, which, although the Germans also used them in their Albatros D.III [fighters] made the machines easy to recognise in the air.

‘The silver Nieuport was a good machine to fight in, but a bad one either for running away or for catching a faint-hearted enemy, as its best air speed, even near the ground, rarely exceeded ninety-six or ninety-nine miles per hour.’³⁹

The Nieuports’ principal German opponent, the new Albatros D.III series, which appeared in early 1917, helped ‘German pilots regain … air superiority over the Allies’.40 It, too, was of a sesquiplane design, but was faster than the Nieuport 17⁴¹, and had more firepower. Allied scouts equipped with a single Lewis or Vickers machine gun that fired short bursts of bullets now faced German fighter aeroplanes armed with a pair of Spandau 7.92mm machine guns, each one capable of ‘firing at the rate of about 400 rounds a minute and fed with ammunition belts holding 500 rounds or more’.⁴² Even the German bullets, equal to about .312 calibre, were slightly larger than the standard British .303 calibre round.

Early Nieuport Scouts were armed only with an upper wing-mounted Lewis machine gun. It was operated by a flexible Bowden cable from the gun to the pilot. The gun fired over the propeller arc and had to be carefully aimed. (Dr. Volker Koos)

The advantages Billy Bishop brought into this mixture of aircraft capabilities and basic firepower were his experience and achievements as a marksman. Those long ago days of proficiently shooting elusive squirrels in his back yard in Owen Sound nurtured a skill that would save his life and help him to triumph in aerial combat. He knew to aim ahead of his target and, whether squirrel or enemy aeroplane, let it fly right into the bullets he had fired.

Bishop’s First Aerial Victory

In the late afternoon of Sunday, 25 March 1917, C Flight went out on a defensive patrol, flying over the city of Arras, along the Scarpe river, and south to the village of St. Leger. Good weather that day allowed Royal Flying Corps bombing, reconnaissance and artillery observation aircraft to be out in force. With fifty-five German aircraft ‘observed opposite the [British] First Army’ sector,⁴³ there was plenty of work for the scout squadrons. And, according to the initial report, ‘two hostile machines were brought down near Mercatel, on our side of the lines, by Lieutenants [Alan] Binnie and [Frank] Bower, both of 60 Squadron’. 44

Billy Bishop, flying in Nieuport 17 A.306, another older aeroplane,⁴⁵ also claimed a victory in that aerial combat. But he had been forced down just within British forward lines, where he was stranded for two days. Billy used his time prudently and found a pencil and paper to jot down details of his first aerial combat in a single-seat scout. Thus, his combat report was filed later than the others.

Albatros D.IIIs were armed with twin Spandau machine guns synchronized to fire through the propeller arc. Gun sights provided reasonable accuracy. (Greg VanWyngarden)

After reading it, Major Scott penned in at the bottom of Billy’s report: ‘It seems that this HA [hostile aeroplane] was wrongly allotted to Lieutenant Bower.’⁴⁶ Billy’s report was forwarded to 13th Wing headquarters, where, after reviewing all of the reports, ‘the wing commander allowed or disallowed each claim made … ’⁴⁷ In this case, Billy’s claim was accepted over Bower’s and he was credited with his first aerial victory.

While at the Front, Billy also wrote a longer account of his first air combat and later mailed it to his mother:

‘I am writing this in a dug-out (evacuated by the Germans three days ago) 300 yards behind our new front line. Today, I have had the most exciting adventure of my life. Four of us were on patrol and three Huns met us. We did battle, as they say. I opened fire on one [German] and another fired on me. I hit my man, I think, for he fell out of control. I dove after him from 8,000 to 600 feet [altitude], firing all the way. When he reached the … latter height, he regained control and crossed the line. The infantry claimed that he crashed there, but it isn’t confirmed yet. If it is, it will count as one [aerial victory] for me, but if not, it won’t. There was I, [at] 600 feet over No Man’s Land. God only knows the number of machine guns which were firing on me. I glided down into a field, [and] made a perfect landing … I was not sure whether I was on the Hun’s side of the line or on our side, so I jumped out of the machine and hid in a ditch. Then I saw English soldiers. In ten minutes the Huns were shelling my machine, but we moved it and it was untouched. I am spending the night here with the 106th Battery, RFA …’48

Billy Bishop was credited with his first aerial victory, on 25 March 1917, while flying Nieuport 17 A.306, seen here. (Cross & Cockade International)

Billy also wrote about this epic event to his father and to Margaret. Four days later, he concluded his recollection of events in another, longer letter to Margaret; portions of it are quoted below. As happened often, he was not modest in telling her about his achievements:

‘At last my adventure is over and opposite my name at HQ is the figure 1, representing one German Albatros Scout. The “Archie [anti-aircraft] people” who saw my fight confirmed it and it goes to my credit … I am now the only person in 60 [Squadron] who has brought down a Hun without help from other machines. The general commanding the RFC [Major-General Hugh Trenchard, CB] sent my CO a telegram congratulating him and me. Then yesterday the [RFC] general second in command [Brigadier-General Higgins] and my colonel [Lieutenant-Colonel George F. Pretyman, commander of the 13th Wing] came over and congratulatedme. It appears that the great thing I did was the death dive of 7,000 feet with my engine full on. It has never been done before in a Nieuport and they didn’t think [the aeroplane] would stand the strain. I’m glad I didn’t know that …

‘All [the following] day the battle went on and, in spite of it all, the Hun evidently found time to search for my machine. I had to keep moving it. No sign of the tender [small lorry] coming to my relief … I tried to start the engine myself and succeeded, but alas, a bit of mud flew up and smashed my propeller. So I started to walk back [through] three miles of seething mud and met some “Archie people”. They loaned me a Ford car and I left at 6:00 pm to try and get back [to the aerodrome], little knowing that it is only possible to get through on one road, all the rest being blown up. I returned at 6:00 [the following] morning … Major [Scott] gave me a great reception.

‘I don’t think I told you that in the (temporary) absence of Captain [Keith] Caldwell, I have been in command of C Flight for the last two weeks.

‘P.S. My machine is full of bullet holes, I learn now.’49

Billy Bishop had many encounters with Albatros D.III aeroplanes, with hallmark V-struts. This particular aircraft is from Jasta 30, with which 60 Squadron fought on numerous occasions. (Greg VanWyngarden)

No one questions that Billy Bishop was a daring and courageous pilot, but embellishments seen in this letter (and other writings) came back to harm his reputation decades later. To clarify a point, he was not ‘the only person’ in 60 Squadron to shoot down a German aeroplane ‘without help from other machines’; the unit had an impressive record of aerial victories long before his arrival, as recorded in Major Scott’s history of the unit. And, while Billy made skilful aerial manoeuvres in his Nieuport 17, that aeroplane’s previously noted history of wing failures suggests that his claim of making a ‘death dive of 7,000 feet with [the] engine full on’ most likely would have had fatal consequences.

On the other hand, when Billy was temporarily put in charge of C Flight, he gained the leadership experience needed to fulfil his hope of becoming a flight commander. The appointment came through within a fortnight, as will be seen in the following chapter.

During air operations on Sunday, 25 March 1917, RFC pilots claimed a total of five aircraft as ‘brought down’ and ‘driven down’.⁵⁰ In hopes of determining corresponding German losses, that day’s entry in the weekly intelligence summary – Nachrichtenblatt der Luftstreitkräfte – was reviewed, but it reported only one casualty: fighter unit Jagdstaffel 6 pilot Leutnant Friedrich Mallinckrodt, who shot down a British aeroplane over Seraucourt, south west of St. Quentin, and also suffered an arm wound.⁵² However, Mallinckrodt⁵¹ was too far away from 60 Squadron’s operational area and, as the German pilot returned to his airfield, he could not have been Billy Bishop’s victim.

A more complete German casualty list⁵³ shows that a Gefreiter [Lance Corporal] Berkling of Jasta 22 was wounded that day, but offers no details. Finally, a listing of German aircraft captured by British forces includes two Albatros D.III aeroplanes initially claimed by Lieutenants Binnie and Bower of 60 Squadron and given the captured identification numbers G 15 and G 16.⁵⁴ The latter aeroplane was the subject of the victory claim credited to Billy Bishop by his wing commander, Lieutenant-Colonel Pretyman, but, while both German pilots were reportedly taken prisoner,⁵⁵ neither man is named in RFC records. Hence, it is not possible to provide a name for Billy’s first confirmed downed opponent.

Bishop’s Second Aerial Victory

The rest of the coming week produced times of sadness and triumph. On Wednesday, the 28th, the notorious Nieuport wing failure took its toll on 60 Squadron when twenty-four-year-old Lieutenant Challoner M.H.M. Caffyn was killed during a practice flight in Nieuport Scout A.6673; according to the casualty report: ‘Both top and bottom [right wings] … were seen to collapse at about 2,500 ft. and the machine came down in a spinning nosedive at 10:20 am.’⁵⁶ Following that sad event, there was no more loose talk at Filescamp Farm about full-speed ‘death dives’ in Nieuport Scouts.

Over the next three days, Billy lost two comrades in battle while attaining another air combat success. He wrote to Margaret:

‘Yesterday [30 March] … I was detailed to lead six machines on an offensive patrol [covering Arras, Vitry and Douai]. Everything went well, we flew very low, as clouds were below us and the ground [was] obscured. Suddenly two Huns popped out of the clouds. I signalled to my [men] … by wobbling the machine and dived at [the German aeroplanes]. They flew away like mad, but I followed and, over my shoulder, I saw the other five [Nieuports] following. Finally I got within firing range and opened fire. At that moment I heard the pop-pop-pop of a machine gun behind me and knew that another Hun was on my tail. I kept on after mine, thinking the remainder of my lot would drive him off. But bullets were piercing my machine within inches of me, and I did a three-quarter loop and evaded him, only to find myself alone.

‘It appears [that] a dozen of the best Hun scouts had suddenly appeared and engaged all the rest. Then I saw them miles further [inside] Hunland and went over to help. Oh my God! It was awful. We steadily lost height and a terrific gale was blowing us further into Hunland. We were only 2,000 feet up, miles inland and fighting like fury. Garnett,57 a dear old soul, was shot down. Bower,⁵⁸ a great pal of mine, we couldn’t find or see anywhere. We learnt later [that] his machine was shot to bits and he … [was] shot through the stomach with a flaming bullet [incendiary – or tracer – ammunition]. He died at noon today [31 March]. These things we must harden our hearts to. The remaining four of us … fought our way all the way home. When we landed, colonel [Pretyman] came over and congratulated us on going so far and so low (and we certainly didn’t … do it on purpose).

‘This morning we went out again to escort some other machines. About ten Huns attacked us. I had two fights. [In] the second one I got on a Hun’s tail, one of the fast scouts, and shot him down. It was just over the lines and the whole proceeding was confirmed by the “Archie people”.⁵⁹ So this afternoon again general [Higgins] and colonel [Pretyman] came over to congratulate me. It is marvellous luck – two Huns in one week.’⁶⁰

Billy was correct in his assessment that C Flight had fought with some ‘of the best’ German combat pilots during the 30 March encounter. Nachrichtenblatt and German 6th Army victory lists state that a Nieuport 17 – almost certainly Garnett’s⁶¹ – was brought down near Gavrelle, just north of Fampoux, as the fourth victory of Leutnant Kurt Wolff of Jasta 11.⁶² The twenty-two-year-old German pilot was a protégé of that unit’s leader, newly-promoted Oberleutnant [First-Lieutenant] Manfred Freiherr von Richthofen. Billy Bishop and his flight-mates may even have duelled with ‘the Red Baron’ himself, who was known to be actively in the air during that time period.

For the 31 March aerial combat, Billy was fortunate in having two witnesses to his victory: an anti-aircraft battery and a member of C Flight. The latter, Second-Lieutenant Lawrence H. Leckie, who was flying behind Billy, confirmed he ‘saw the Albatros Scout go down in a spinning nosedive, seemingly out of control’⁶⁴ – but neither he nor Billy said they saw the German aeroplane hit the ground. That day’s entry in the Nachrichtenblatt summary contained no Western Front casualties.⁶⁵ In its weekly summary of air operations, the German 6th Army, directly opposite British First and Third Armies, reported only that a Leutnant Botsch, an observer with two-seat unit Flieger-Abteilung (A) 255, had been badly wounded.66 There was no mention of a single-seat fighter casualty that matched 60 Squadron’s encounter with Albatros Scouts. On the basis of the anti-aircraft battery crew’s and Leckie’s reports, Wing Commander Pretyman credited Billy Bishop with his second aerial victory.

Adding to that honour, Billy’s gained another distinction when his latest air combat triumph was also mentioned in the RFC Communiqué for 31 March:

‘Major Scott, squadron commander … destroyed a hostile machine south east of Arras. Captain Black, also of 60 Squadron, assisted Major Scott. A second hostile aeroplane was destroyed north east of Arras by Lieutenant Bishop …’⁶⁷

Following that official publication, officers at all levels in the Royal Flying Corps read about Billy Bishop’s early air combat success.

There would be many more achievements to come.