As on the previous day, Monday 24 September saw yet another misty morning at Estrée Blanche that prevented flying until early afternoon. Twelve miles away at St. Omer, Major General Hugh Trenchard, GOC of the RFC, was having lunch when the news came in: Werner Voss, the star German pilot had been brought down on the British side of the lines by 56 Squadron. This was a major coup for the RFC. German newspapers and magazines had been following the exploits of aces like Voss, Richthofen, Wolff and other celebrities for many months throughout 1917, as had Trenchard, and he lost no time sending his ADC, Maurice Baring, over to 56 to get full details of the Voss action. In his memoirs: Flying Corps Headquarters 1914-1918, Baring recorded the following statements made by Rhys Davids, Maybery, Hoidge and James McCudden. From their recollections it is clear they encountered two triplanes during the engagement with Voss. And although their matter of fact comments raised few eyebrows at the time, they have caused consternation among historians and aviation researchers ever since.
Rhys Davids told Baring: ‘I saw three Huns attacking one SE; one triplane, light grey and brown, with slight extensions, one red-nosed V-Strutter, one green-nosed Scout. I never saw the green Scout again after the first dive. I then saw four SEs fighting the triplane and the red-nosed V-Strutter. The triplane’s top-plane was larger than the middle-plane. The engine was not a Mercedes, but I thought it was stationary. I wasn’t sure. It had four guns. I thought the pilot was wearing a black leather flying-cap. Fired six or seven times and then went off to change my drum. The Hun either had armoured plates or else he was very lucky.
‘Last dive but one, I went for him. He came from the east. Not quite straight behind, fired from a hundred yards to 70 and emptied a whole drum. The triplane only turned when 20 yards away. I turned to the right, so did he. Thought situation impossible, and that there would be a collision. I turned left and avoided him. I next saw the triplane at 1,500 feet below gliding west. Dived again, opened fire at about 100. Got one good shot out of my Vickers (my Lewis drum was empty) without taking sights off. Reloaded my Vickers. Fired another twenty or thirty rounds. He overshot and zoomed away. Changed drum, then made for the red-nosed V-Strutter and started firing at about 100 yards. The V-Strutter was flying at an angle of about 45 degrees across the front, and I came at him slightly above. We both fired at each other. He stopped firing. I dived underneath him and zoomed up the other side. I saw the V-Strutter about 600 feet below spiralling northwest. I then lost sight of him. During the whole scrap there were 11 to 14 E.A. higher east who made no attempt to fight.’ [These were undoubtedly the enemy Scouts noted by Rothesay Stuart-Wortley, the Bristol Fighter pilot.]
From this statement it would certainly appear that Rhys Davids was still somewhat bewildered. Although he had recovered from the trauma of the previous day, he thought that the triplane he had engaged was equipped with four guns and a stationary engine. He also neglected to mention that in his combat report he said the fight lasted some twenty minutes, nor did he corroborate Maybery’s sighting of a second triplane. More importantly, Baring seems to have got the impression that it was Voss who performed the magical zoom.
Another example of confusion experienced during the fight was outlined in a letter Second Lieutenant V.P. Cronyn wrote to the author Evan Hadingham in April 1967. He noted: ‘The possible uncertainty that appears to exist respecting the Voss scrap, and just where his machine crashed, is probably due to the difficulty of determining exactness of lines or area of no man’s land during a fight. This is of course understandable when the engagement takes place at a considerable height. But even when following a plane till it crashed, self-preservation dictated that the pilot kept looking above and behind his machine to avoid being surprised by enemy attack. One gained impressions rather than clearly recording a factual sequence of events. At times, movements were purely instinctive, and made on such split second action that no impression was recorded. For example, Muspratt asked me at dinner. “Why did you fly on your back so much when you were engaged with Voss?” Neither at the time of the fight, nor when Muspratt asked me the question, was I aware of flying upside-down. On the other hand, I did recall passing under Voss and missing the opportunity to pull down my Vickers (sic) and fire upwards through the underside of his plane. Here again, though the incident was evident at the time, it did not grow to be a picture in my mind’s eye until it came to the surface out of the impression of an opportunity missed.’
Clearly, Rhys Davids was not alone in fighting to gather his wits whilst engaged in combat, yet in a letter to his mother dated the 25th, the old Etonian was less ambiguous. He wrote:
‘Dearest Mums,
Just a hurried line before going to the war to thank you ever so much for the book and birthday letter, both of which turned up yesterday! Never mind, two days early c’est rien n’est ce pas. [Arthur celebrated his twentieth birthday on September 26th.] I enclose a telegram I got last night from the dear old general – all for little me, after I had got my nineteenth Hun – a two seater who burnt furiously all the way down. Three nights ago we had the most wonderful fight. After the leader [McCudden] had got one two seater crashed, six of us took on four Huns – two triplanes, their new machines; one of another new type [the Pfalz D III] and one ordinary Albatros. Maybery drove one triplane off, the other was the bravest man I have ever seen and shot two of us about badly – Muspratt and another, before I slew him. He is down in No Man’s Land, and we do not know who was in it yet. My hat! He was equally a brave man and brilliant pilot and had the devils luck in not being killed three times instead of once. Meanwhile Voss, the great German star after Richthofen, is down this side in the new type machine and was one of the other two machines – we got all the other three besides the second triplane. I got the great triplane and one other – I thought an ordinary Albatros – and Hoidge – our PM a Canadian who has now got 20 – or rather claimed 20 – got the other. So Voss and the triplane are both to our credit, perhaps both to me, but probably Hoidge’s Hun was Voss. Still that will be known soon.
Must fly. Best love A.’
McCudden’s statement was brief and to the point, he simply told Baring he saw a triplane crash N.N.W. of Zonnebeke, which is interesting in the light of Rhys Davids’ comment about No-Man’s-Land. However, given the confusion of the previous day’s epic fight, this may mean little or nothing.
Maybery said: ‘I saw the triplane and went down after it. It was grey with slight extensions as far as I can remember. It was followed by a green Scout. Someone came and shunted the green Scout. After that I saw Rhys Davids dive on the triplane, followed by a red-nosed Scout. I attacked the red-nosed Scout. I zoomed up over him and couldn’t see anything of them. I saw a triplane going east, [Voss was gliding west when Rhys Davids lost sight of him] but this one seemed to be different and green.’ This second triplane was almost certainly the machine referred to by Bodenschatz in a letter to Douglass Whetton, and probably the same triplane encountered by McCudden, Sloley and Jeffs on 6 September.
Hoidge said: ‘I saw a bright green Hun going down on Maybery’s tail at about 3,000 feet, and I fired with Vickers and Lewis at about 100 yards in order to frighten him. When about 30 yards away, the Hun turned south, and was flying directly in the line of fire. I finished a full drum of Lewis gun at about 10 yards from him. He turned right over and went down in a short dive and turned over again. The last I saw of him was going straight down in a dive at about 800-1,000 feet. I stopped following him because the triplane was right above him and I had an empty drum. I flew to the line climbing, and put on a full drum and came back and attacked the triplane from the side as it was flying nose on to McCudden. I attacked him four or five times, but I didn’t see what happened after this. I never saw the red-nosed Scout at all. The green man didn’t get a chance to scrap.’ In his combat report Hoidge stated he fired some 150 rounds from his Vickers and half a drum of Lewis gun ammunition during the fight with Voss, which like Rhys Davids he estimated as lasting twenty minutes.
Hoidge then added to the confusion by affirming only Rhys Davids, Maybery and himself were present when Bowman was close enough to observe Voss fall. Bowman stated that at the moment of the crash: ‘The only other machine I saw was that of Rhys Davids. I don’t know where McCudden was. He reported Voss down in the German lines which suggests he was somewhere else and perhaps saw the red-nosed Albatros crash.’ In fact James McCudden was also nearby, but higher up than the remnants of the patrol. It is of course possible that he may have mistaken the crash of the red-nosed Albatros, which occurred soon after, for that of the triplane, though this is very unlikely as the Albatros made a forced landing, it did not crash to pieces. McCudden is generally accepted as being very accurate in matters of detail. Over the years, several former RFC pilots that served with him commented on his amazing ability to recall times, dates, people and places, months or even years after the event. Moreover, he was one of the most experienced pilots in the RFC, having served since 1913, and had encountered dozens of Albatros Scouts in his time. More than that, he knew the difference between a triplane and a biplane.
Even though the fight took place over one of the most devastated areas of the Front, where intense fighting was taking place on the ground, and where few landmarks were visible among the mass of shell craters and shimmering ground haze, McCudden made no generalisations, in fact he was most specific: he told Baring he saw a triplane crash ‘N.N.W. of Zonnebeke’ and meant it. This would put the site at little over a mile northeast of the ruined village on the German side of the lines, and just over a mile from where Voss actually fell. However, it should be noted that the area under consideration here is comparatively small: the two Flemish villages are less than two miles apart, and practically on the same line of latitude. Therefore, in the light of Cronyn’s statement, a topographical error made in the heat of battle would be perfectly understandable. But there is evidence, albeit unsubstantiated, that adds substance to the keen observations of McCudden: Douglass Whetton noted that a patrol from 57 Squadron reported a crashed triplane seen on the ground close to Zonnebeke on the 24th. This sighting possibly occurred whilst Baring was still at Estrée Blanche making his inquiries; although to be fair he made no mention of it in his book. But if it is true, it could only have been the machine McCudden said ‘crashed to pieces, about 6.35 p.m.’
An RFC Intelligence Summary covering the action of the 23rd, and recorded at St. Omer, gives credence to the possibility that a crashed triplane was seen by pilots of 57 Squadron. The text has suffered from several corrections. A number of lines have been crossed through and additional information has been added by hand at a later date. The summary, PRO document A 455, commences with part of the combat report submitted by Rhys Davids, which remains unaltered. There is then a short second paragraph that originally read: ‘The triplane destroyed by this pilot has since been seen crashed on the ground east of the lines.’ This indicates that a reconnaissance could have taken place, or at least there had been a sighting of a downed machine on the German side. The words: ‘has since been seen crashed on the ground east of the lines’, were then crossed out in ink and substituted with: ‘was flown by Werner Voss who was killed on our side.’ This last correction could only have been made after RFC officers had established the crash site was close to Plum Farm on the British side.
Below this, in pencil, was a third paragraph originally crediting Hoidge with the destruction of the triplane – even though the plucky Canadian never claimed a triplane at any time. The first lines referring to Voss, and ending with ‘brought down by’ were crossed out, but initially read: ‘On the 23rd, Werner Voss was shot down in our lines. This pilot is reputed to have shot down forty-six Allied machines, and is believed to have been brought down by 2nd Lieut. R.T. Hoidge: 56 Sqn. This pilot observed an E.A. attacking Lieut. Maybery from behind, so dived at it, and the enemy machine immediately changed its course, flying directly into Lieut. Hoidge’s line of fire, who put a full drum of Lewis into it, after which it fell over and over out of control.’ No doubt this paragraph owed its origins to the report submitted by the gunners of 174 Brigade who, being unable to identify the badly smashed machine as a triplane, believed an ordinary biplane had been downed near their position. Staff at RFC Headquarters then assumed Rhys Davids had simply confused the biplane with a triplane and associated it with the gunner’s sketchy report. It was not until after the wreck was inspected by RFC staff officers that a second report arrived at Estrée Blanche confirming Voss had actually crashed in a triplane. And although Rhys Davids had already been awarded the victory, seemingly RFC Headquarters chose to ignore any other discrepancies and filed the summary as was.
As evidenced in the letter to his mother, Rhys Davids believed the triplane he and his comrades had been fighting fell between the lines. McCudden said the machine he observed crash fell north of Zonnebeke on the German side; though Voss, as correctly reported by Bowman, actually came down on the British side. McCudden said the triplane went into a steep dive before it hit the ground, whereas Bowman stated that at no time was the angle of descent steeper than an ordinary glide-in to land. The two experienced flight commanders were the only 56 Squadron pilots to witness a crash – but did they see the same crash? Judging by their comments it seems there is a very real possibility they did not, but the odds on two triplanes falling within minutes of each other and just over a mile apart, must be pretty long. Even so, the possibility gives credence to the author’s theory that the Germans had several of their wonder machines in service at the time – and that they were steadily being shot down. If this is accepted, it brings us to a very interesting question: although the RFC only ever claimed one triplane downed on the 23rd, is it possible that two were actually brought down on the same day?
The only narrative of 56 Squadron’s return to Estrée Blanche on the evening of 23 September is to be found in the book written by Lieutenant V.P. Cronyn, whose SE5 had a crocked engine. He recalled that there was little headwind on the way back, and that after a convoluted and hair-raising flight, he arrived at 18.40 hours. Once on the ground, and very shaken by his near death experience, he practically collapsed with relief and was led to a bench by 56’s commander, Major Blomfield, where he was given a good swig of brandy. But before Cronyn had pulled himself together he noted the other SE5s had begun to arrive back – led in by McCudden. Rhys Davids was so excited after climbing from his machine he hyperventilated and stammered uncontrollably for several minutes before he could blurt out his story. Blomfield, with two wrecks on his hands could only continue administering the brandy before seeing to the other pilots. Everyone realised they had taken part in and witnessed an epic encounter. They also knew that the confusion experienced in what was in effect a one-sided dogfight, during which they had all sustained some battle damage, was not going to be easy to commit to paper. In consequence minor contradictions appear in their combat reports, though in the main these centre on timings, the numbers of enemy aircraft and types involved and who actually got whom.
The first air war was an education for pilots on all sides, combat in the air was new, and there was no like experience to draw upon, no manual to read and no rules to play by. The lessons of air fighting were learnt by men like Voss and McCudden the hardest possible way – in actual life and death contacts with the enemy. Nerves were strained to the limit every time they went into action, and perception of events during encounters thousands of feet above the tortured front lines were, understandably, and all too often, the product of youthful over-excited minds rather than incontestable fact. As a result, many questions surrounding the death of Voss may never be resolved, but whatever the truth, a young man of unparalleled courage and tenacity died after what was in reality a reckless attack on the experienced pilots of 56. According to Bowman and Cronyn he could have extricated himself from the fight at any time – but Werner Voss chose to fight to the death.
News of the epic fight was finally released to the Associated Press a week after the event, when the following statement was issued: ‘British Headquarters in France and Belgium, 1 October 1917. The body of the famous German airman, Lieut. Vosse (sic), who was recently reported in a German official communication as missing, has been found within the British lines, and British airmen have already dropped messages behind the German front, giving notification of his death.
Vosse was killed on 23 September while engaged in a spectacular combat with a British airman. He died fighting determinedly and magnificently.’
This was the first official Allied communication noting the death of Voss, although a short item had appeared in The Times (London) on 26 September. German intelligence would certainly have picked this up immediately and informed JG1 of the revelation, and yet, if we are to believe the narratives of Bodenschatz and Rüdenberg it took ten days for news to filter through to them at the Front, and this is said to have been provided by the Swiss Red Cross. According to the Associated Press, British airmen had already dropped messages behind the German lines, a common practice to both sides, especially when relating to a pilot of Voss’ notoriety, and this would have been affected within days not weeks; yet neither Bodenschatz nor Rüdenberg confirmed this had happened at any juncture. In fact news of the epic fight and the demise of Voss actually reached Krefeld in double quick time: the Niederrheinische Volkszeitung ran a notice of his death on 25 September, and the Krefelder Zeitung of 7 October included an obituary and a full page of tributes from, among others, Crown Prince Wilhelm, Generalleutnant von Hoeppner, Oswald Boelcke’s ageing father, Anthony Fokker and the Kommandeur des Krefelder Husaren Regiments, Oberst Bruno von Gillhaussen, Werner’s first commanding officer in the field. It will come as no great surprise to some that any tribute from von Richthofen was conspicuous by its absence.