Compared to the millions of words which have been written by and about the British pilots who fought in the First World War, very little space has been devoted to the men who flew with them – men who shared in (at least) equal measure the risks involved in air combat – the observers. The most likely reason for this will be the public’s fascination with the exploits of a handful of outstandingly successful pilots, practically all of whom flew single-seat fighters. The achievements of these ‘aces’ were so spectacular that they reflected a measure of glory on all pilots, even those who flew the relatively pedestrian two-seaters. Unfortunately, they also cast a shadow which completely obscured the considerable contribution to success that was being made by the even less glamorous occupants of rear cockpits. Another possible explanation for the activities of non-pilot aircrew having been overlooked could lie in an impression that there were relatively few of them. If so, this was based on a misunderstanding. At least 10,000 such men flew on operations between 1914 and 1918.
In view of the fact that so many men actually flew as back-seaters it is rather surprising that so few of them subsequently saw fit to record their experiences. There are a handful of first-hand accounts written by observers, of course, but nothing like the number penned by pilots. Since the early observers declined to sing their own praises, and since no one else has ever bothered to do so, they have faded into relative obscurity to become little more than a footnote to the history of the Great War. In writing this book my original aim was to sharpen the focus on these sadly overlooked aviators, thus disposing of some longstanding myths (without, I hope, having created any new ones).
It is conventional to regard the observer of WW I as the forerunner of the navigator of WW II and after. In practice, however, until quite late on, very few first-generation observers had much to do with navigation. Nevertheless, because responsibility for it was eventually vested in the second generation of observers, some space has been devoted to the evolution of the art of air navigation. In fact, since they were not navigating, most of what the observers of 1914-18 actually did had far more in common with specialisations which would come to be recognised as quite separate trades during the 1939-45 War. To reflect this, some consideration has been given to the development of the other categories of early non-pilot aircrew, the aerial gunner/gunlayer and the kite balloon observer. Since it was fundamental to the provision of non-pilot aircrew, the narrative also includes frequent references to the evolution of the associated training organisation. In order to maintain some sort of perspective, despite the disproportionate amount of publicity which they have already been afforded, some reference to pilots proved to be unavoidable.
Having painted what I believe to be a reasonable likeness of the non-pilot aircrew of WW I, it was almost inevitable that I would be seduced into considering how rapidly that picture faded after the war and the steps which had to be taken to restore it in later years. These developments are covered in rather less detail, in the second and third sections of the book which continues the story to the turn of the century.
I should perhaps add that I embarked on this project with a reasonably open mind – I really did. As a latter-day back-seater myself, however, I was so surprised to discover the extent of the RFC’s institutionalised lack of regard for its observers (an attitude which was so wholeheartedly endorsed by the RAF in its formative years that its ramifications can still be detected today) that this book may occasionally read as something of a polemic. If it does, so be it.
I hereby offer my thanks to the many colleagues within the Mafia of aviation historians who assisted me in this project but I must make specific mention of Graham Day of the Air Historical Branch, and of (now sadly, the late) Mike O’Connor, who pointed me at a number of particularly useful files at the Public Record Office. It is also appropriate to acknowledge the contribution made by the staff of the Public Record Office (now The National Archives) itself, since it would be impossible to write a book of this nature without the access to essential documents and data which only they can provide.
One last thought. It is a moot point whether or not the word ‘observers’ should have an apostrophe when used, for instance, to identify an emblem (as in ‘an observers badge’) or an item of equipment (as in ‘observers cockpit’) or within the title of a unit (as in Observers School) and, if so, whether it should go before or after the ‘s’. From an examination of contemporary documents relating to such matters during WW I, it is quite plain that those who drafted them were undecided, as examples of all the options can be found. Throughout this book, where appropriate, the word ‘observers’ (and ‘pilots’, ‘navigators’, etc) has been used in its adjectival sense as a plural attributive noun, ie sans apostrophe.
C G Jefford
Postcombe
November 2000
Having been inspired by my curiosity about the little-publicised ‘back-seaters’ of WWI, the first chapters of the first edition of this book were very detailed but they became less so as the story progressed. Indeed, while the narrative covered almost a century, almost half of the content was devoted to the years 1912-18. This second edition is intended to provide a more balanced account. Some new material has been added relating to WW I, but most of the amplification is concerned with the inter-war years, WW II and the post-war era with the story, at least so far as navigators are concerned, coming to an end in 2011 – which was a good excuse for writing this updated, and considerably expanded, second edition.
C G Jefford
Postcombe
January 2014