Summer 1915. The RFC’s provisional ‘War Manual’ is revised and republished.
When the RFC had gone to war it had been operating to procedures which had been devised in 1913 and published in the provisional edition of the Flying Training Manual, Pt II of May 1914 (see page 3). In the meantime a number of pamphlets had been produced to cover new techniques and procedures, notably artillery co-operation and contact patrols. Although the nature of aerial warfare was constantly changing, in 1915 an attempt was made to update the Manual to reflect the latest state of play. On 11 June proof copies of an extensively revised edition were circulated for comment. Chapter III began as follows:1
‘Observation from aeroplanes can be carried out by the pilot single-handed, but as undivided attention is necessary for observing, it is usually advantageous to carry a passenger who is free to devote his whole attention to this task.
The observer requires air experience and special training. He should have good eyesight, and possess sufficient military knowledge to enable him to recognise units of all arms in their various formations, and to be able to discern the most probable places in which to search for them.
He should be able to read the Morse code.’
Although it was expressed in remarkably moderate terms,2 this passage reflected the fact that the RFC had completely abandoned its pre-war concept of using spare pilots and/or part-timers. There was no longer any question that observers needed to be professional and trained.
The new edition continued to stress many of the principles that had featured in the original draft of 1913. The importance of mutual confidence, for instance, and the consequent need for crews to fly together regularly, but in many respects it appears that the RFC still considered it ‘inadvisable to lay down any definite rules as to their respective duties.’ The draft stated, for instance, that ‘the responsibility of finding the way must be shared by the pilot and observer.’
While the updated manual declined to allocate responsibility for navigation, it did provide positive guidance in another increasingly significant field of activity. It directed that ‘as the attention of the observer is necessarily absorbed by his work in watching the ground, it is the special duty of the pilot to keep a lookout in the air for hostile aircraft.’ This statement reflected the fact that sightings of enemy aircraft were becoming increasingly common and that these often resulted in aerial engagements, although most tended to be inconclusive as a result of the limited combat potential of the machines being flown by both sides. This situation was not to last for long, however. Experience, and the availability of more capable aeroplanes, would soon show that what had seemed sensible in June 1915 would turn out to be quite the opposite of what was required. No one could forecast this development at the time, of course, but within a year it would be increasingly the observer who spent his time scanning the skies while the pilot concentrated on events on the ground.
A major problem with the Flying Training Manual, Pt II was that it was virtually impossible to keep current. Air warfare was changing so rapidly that each edition was bound to be out of date almost as soon as it was published. Nevertheless, having attracted few adverse comments, the revised edition of June 1915 was eventually published on 15 November. It is perhaps worth pointing out, however, that this document had long ceased to be the ‘War Manual’ that Sykes had envisaged early in 1913. As its title indicates, it was now intended primarily for use within the training system at home, providing a framework of basic concepts and techniques with which to indoctrinate the next generation of aviators. As such it served its purpose well enough, but there was much still to be learned by these young men when they reached France.
Summer 1915. The skills required by an Observer are identified.
By mid-1915 the accumulated experience of air operations over France had made it possible to identify with some confidence the core skills that an observer needed to possess. At the end of July Lt-Col H M R Brooke-Popham (Sykes’ successor as GSO1 at HQ RFC) wrote to OCs 1st, 2nd and 3rd Wgs to ensure that all concerned were fully aware of what was required.3 While it apparently failed to grasp the nettle very firmly (see Note 2), this document represented the RFC’s first attempt at defining a uniform training standard. It read:
‘Although it is undesirable to lay down hard and fast rules as regards the qualifications of observers, it is considered that the same general standard of proficiency should be maintained throughout the RFC. Normally an officer should not be recommended for grading as a qualified observer unless:
a. He knows the Lewis Gun thoroughly.
b. Can use the RFC camera successfully.
c. Can send and receive by wireless at the rate of 6 words a minute with 98% accuracy.4
d. Knows the method of co-operation between aeroplanes and artillery thoroughly.
e. Has carried out two reconnaissances or has ranged batteries successfully on two occasions.’
While pilots tended to handle photography in tractor aeroplanes, observers were virtually obliged to do it in pusher types because of their layout. This FE2b, 4903 of No 18 Sqn, has a C Type camera mounted alongside the ‘pulpit’. The gun, a strippedMk I Lewis with a 47-round magazine, is carried on a No 2 Mounting. (B L Gray)
While the need for observers to be familiar with cameras was axiomatic, aerial photography was not their exclusive preserve. Practical cameras had first begun to appear in substantial numbers in the spring of 1915, the Type A being a robust, if cumbersome, hand-held device which the observer had to lean out of his cockpit to use. This was more easily said than done, as it proved to be quite difficult to manipulate the camera’s complex controls (each exposure required ten actions, including changing the individual 5″×4″ glass plates) in the often freezing slipstream while having to support its weight, which was about 10 lb. The issue was further complicated by the fact that the observer occupied the front cockpit of most early aeroplanes, notably that of the ubiquitous BE2-series. This meant that his downward view was obscured by the lower wing which restricted him to taking oblique photographs, rather than the vertical shots which the map-makers would have preferred. To overcome these problems, the camera began to be carried on a fixed, external, vertical rack positioned well aft of the wings. This placed it alongside the rear cockpit where it was accessible only to the pilot who was therefore obliged to assume responsibility for its operation.
The introduction of the Type C camera in mid-1915 meant that pilots subsequently became permanently involved in photography. Similar in overall design to the Type A, but with the addition of an eighteen- plate magazine, the Type C was easier to operate but too heavy (26 lb) to be used in the hand-held mode and it was almost always carried on a fixed rack. Thereafter pilots continued to handle the majority of vertical photographic tasks, even in later types of aircraft in which the seating arrangements had been reversed. On the RE8, for instance, the camera mounting frame was generally fitted on the starboard side, alongside the front (pilot’s) cockpit, the fabric being removed from a section of the lower wing surface to provide an unrestricted field of view downwards. With the introduction of remote-controlled, semi-automatic cameras in 1917, however, it became possible to mount them internally within the rear fuselage (which may account for the fact that, while the RE8’s external camera rack is often discernible in photographs, very few of them show a camera actually mounted on it). These later models could be operated by either crew member, but it remained the usual practice for the pilot to do it, sighting directly ‘over the side’ or, when available, via a Negative Lens Bomb Sight installed in the cockpit floor.
Although pilots may actually have taken the majority of wartime reconnaissance photographs, observers were always directly involved in this activity. They had, for instance, sole responsibility for the cameras carried internally in BE2s and 1½ Strutters which had been locally modified for long-range reconnaissance work, and for those which were occasionally mounted externally on the rear fuselage decking for oblique shots, as, for example, on some Nieuport 20s. Furthermore, it was invariably the observer who operated fixed cameras mounted alongside the ‘pulpits’ of pusher types engaged on photographic tasks and they also looked after later models of hand-held cameras – notably the purpose-built P14s and P18s. Even the introduction of internally-mounted, remotely-operated cameras did not cut them out of the loop entirely. These devices were totally inaccessible to the pilot of an RE8 or FK8 and, even if he actually took all of the pictures, it was the back-seater who was responsible for changing the plate magazines, for making any adjustments and for clearing jams. When Bristol Fighters were tasked with photographic work, the internally mounted camera tended to be operated exclusively by the observer. (For a summary of the evolution of British aerial cameras during WWI, see Annex A.)
A Type 52 wireless, the ‘Sterling’ set, installed in the rear cockpit of a DH 9. Note the aerial, wound on a drum, with the business end disappearing through a fairlead in the floor.
Another noteworthy item featured in Brooke-Popham’s list was the requirement for an observer to be able to use wireless equipment. This reflected the fact that by mid-1915, pyrotechnics, the Aldis lamp and the Klaxon horn had been largely superseded by radio for air-to-ground communication.5 The use of W/T, ie Morse, had therefore become a key feature of the work of crews co-operating with the guns.
Two points should made regarding the RFC’s application of this relatively new technology. First, the most widely used equipment, the Sterling set,6 provided only transmission facilities. A complementary system of visual signals was therefore necessary to permit ground-to-air communication. Many methods were employed, including heliographs, signal flares, Aldis lamps and panneau (or lathe or shutter) signals – a louvred arrangement of moveable slats linked together, like a Venetian blind, that could be ‘opened’ or ‘shut’ to send Morse – and ‘Ground Signals’ (strips of white cloth laid out on the ground in pre-arranged patterns). By 1918 most of these would have been largely superseded by the Popham ‘T’ panel.
Secondly, although all observers were originally trained to use W/T, radio was never their exclusive preserve. Many pilots preferred to handle the ‘buzzer’ themselves and this became an increasingly common practice from the autumn of 1916 onwards. Since observers were becoming progressively less involved in using wireless equipment, from late 1917 onwards comprehensive instruction in W/T techniques was confined to observers earmarked for specific roles – of which more anon. (For a summary of later developments in British wireless technology during WW I, see Annex B.)
Before leaving the list of essential skills published in July 1915 it is necessary to highlight the last item as it would turn out, perhaps quite unintentionally, to have major long-term implications in terms of employment policy. The list’s final provision had established the principle that an observer should not ‘normally’ be regarded as being qualified until he had flown in action. Before very long, however, the ‘normally’ had been forgotten and this principle had become an unconditional prerequisite. The problem was not that this regulation existed, but that it was applied selectively. It was not unreasonable for the RFC to require its observers to demonstrate their competence in action before they were regarded as being fully qualified, but it was unreasonable that newly trained pilots, some of them barely capable of flying their aeroplanes, were not required to clear the same hurdle. As will become apparent, this discriminatory approach was to cause problems in the future.
In this context, it is of particular interest to note that there was no such double standard in the German air service where both observers and pilots were required to demonstrate their competence by flying on operations before being awarded their respective badges. This was expressed, in the case of the latter as, ‘Ausführung (…) bestimmenden Unzahl Flüge über dein Feind’ – broadly ‘… completion of a specified number of flights over the Front’.7
1915. Early attitudes towards Observers.
The RFC’s attempt to impose some sort of standardisation on the training of its observers in mid-1915 implicitly acknowledged that these men had a vital role to play if a crew was to be fully effective and that they were certainly not mere passengers. While this was clearly the view of the responsible staffs, there is some anecdotal evidence to suggest that it was not held universally. The following passage probably overstates the case, but it was written by one who was there at the time and it conveys a clear impression that a different attitude prevailed at the working level, in some quarters at least. As Robert Money wrote in 1930 (see Chapter 2, Note 34):
‘Observers were of no account in those days (ie the summer of 1915). This was not the official view, of course – merely the much more important social one. Observers were ballast, useless heavy impedimenta, ullage, who must be sat upon and squashed and made to feel their inferiority. As practically every observer looked with longing to the day when he would himself be a pilot, this attitude seemed quite natural to him.’
The evolution of the observers badge. On the left, the design as originally proposed by Maj-Gen Sir David Henderson in his letter of 15 June 1915 to GHQ BEF. At some stage an unknown hand has indicated that some of the lower feathers should be trimmed off. In the centre, the more muscular version covered by Field Marshal Sir John French’s letter of 26 June to the War Office. On the right, the design as finally approved by Col Brancker on 23 July. Messrs Hobson & Co were subsequently paid 7/6d to manufacture examples. The prototypes were offered as (diagonally) six-inch and four-inch options; the smaller version being selected for production. The badge was formally introduced on 23 August 1915. As in WW II, although there would presumably have been an official pattern, individual haberdashers were not averse to running off their own interpretations and there were a number of subtle variations on the theme. (TNA AIR2/15/55/RFC/16)
In view of the relatively primitive, underpowered and virtually unarmed aeroplanes which were available at the time, it is hardly surprising that some of the more aggressive and/or less perceptive pilots may well have had real reservations about the value of carrying the ‘dead weight’ of an observer. On the other hand, it is likely that many more expressed similar views out of a sense of playful ‘pilot solidarity’ and in a spirit of youthful banter, rather than from any deep-seated conviction – after all, until quite recently a significant proportion of pilots had been observers themselves. The facts were that in 1915 the RFC’s primary functions were reconnaissance and artillery co-operation and there could be no real doubt that these roles could be fulfilled far more effectively by two men than by one.
Nevertheless, there was clearly perceived to be something ‘second class’ about being an observer, this perception being reinforced (as will become clear later) by the very real constraints which were imposed on his advancement by the RFC’s administration. As a result, as Money makes plain, practically all observers aspired to become pilots, leading many to regard their first flying tour as a means to an end and no more than an interim stage in achieving their ultimate ambition.
Much of this was probably inevitable at the time but the temporary nature of an observer’s employment had a very unfortunate consequence. It delayed the early development of a sound basis of professionalism among non-pilot aircrew. The need for competent and skilled observers became increasingly apparent as the air war grew in complexity and intensity but the RFC never did see fit to acknowledge them properly. It was not until after the formation of the RAF in 1918 that the status of the observer’s trade was to be afforded an appropriate degree of recognition. Even then it was granted only grudgingly, largely as a concession to the ex-RNAS faction, and it turned out to be more apparent than real.
1915. The RFC introduces a distinguishing badge for Observers.
Regardless of the disdain with which some junior pilots may have regarded their lesser brethren, observers were an increasingly prominent fact of life by mid-1915. They were still a rather ill-defined group, however, and it was time to do something about tidying them up. Maj-Gen Henderson brought this problem to the attention of GHQ in June when he suggested that observers should wear an appropriate badge. His letter included a sketch of a possible lop-sided, single-winged design, very like that which was eventually approved.8 The CinC concurred and wrote to the War Office as follows:9
‘… some confusion is caused by the variety of uniforms and badges worn by officers of the different regiments who are now attached to the Royal Flying Corps for observation duties, and it is desirable to adopt a distinguishing mark for the qualified observer.’
He enclosed a new sketch, of a rather muscular unipinioned ‘O’ which could, he suggested, be ‘worn in the same way as the existing pilot’s badge’. If Field Marshal Sir John French wanted his observers to have a badge, no one at the War Office was disposed to argue and, after a little tinkering, the final version was approved by Col Brancker on 23 July.10
An initial order was placed for 100 to cover the immediate notional requirement which was for eighty-four, sufficient for twelve squadrons having up to seven qualified observers each. The badge was formally introduced in August 1915.11 Its design, which, promptly attracted the soubriqet of ‘the flying arsehole’ was at first considered by some to add insult to injury. Money (probably overstating the case again) thought it ‘bad enough to be an observer at all, without having to carry the badge of infamy.’
Nothing overt ever seems to have been said but the not-so-subtle implication of a single-winged badge was plain enough. An observer was simply not considered to be a fully-fledged aviator. He would become one only when he qualified as a pilot, which most were expected to do, at which point he would be given the ‘other half’ of his badge. Nevertheless, while the introduction of a badge had certainly represented a step in the right direction, it had been a relatively small one. If the standing of observers was really going to be raised it would be necessary for them to be accepted as full members of the RFC. For the time-being, however, this privilege was still withheld.
By this time Sgt Maj F C V Laws, who had been flying, both at home and overseas, since 1912, had already logged nearly 300 hours in aeroplanes, mostly on photographic work, not to mention his extensive experience in balloons and airships. Since he was almost certainly the most experienced non-pilot aviator in the RFC, on 22 September he submitted a formal request ‘through channels’ that he be permitted to wear the new observers badge.12 This raised the question of whether or not to recognise the efforts of other non-commissioned personnel being employed on flying duties and this was duly sanctioned in October,13 Laws himself being specifically authorised to wear an observers badge on the 17th.14
This was not quite the end of the matter, however. Only three days later HQ RFC sought guidance as to whether all personnel engaged on airborne photographic work were entitled to wear an observers badge, on the grounds that they were just as much at risk as any other aviators. It was evidently decided that Sgt Maj Laws’ case had been exceptional and that it did not represent a precedent. The DMA ruled that the only personnel entitled to wear observers badges were those who were considered to be fully qualified and who were regularly employed on ‘artillery work, reconnaissance (or) machine gunnery.’15 It was argued that any of these men ought to be perfectly capable of operating a camera and that it was therefore both unnecessary and inappropriate for unqualified personnel to fly operationally.
Having formally acknowledged the fact that the RFC was employing non-commissioned personnel other than pilots on flying duties, the War Office decided that they ought to receive an appropriate allowance. Flying pay for NCO observers and those drawn from the ranks was introduced at the beginning of 1916, the rates being a shilling per day while under instruction and two shillings once qualified. To begin with, the allowance was paid on a strictly per diem basis, ie only for those days on which the recipient actually flew.16 In December this proviso was removed and NCOs and other ranks who were ‘specially selected for continuous employment on observation duties’ became eligible to draw flying pay permanently while so engaged.17
1915-16. The RFC joins the side-show campaigns.
Thus far we have considered only those observers who flew in France. In fact they were to fly in every theatre in which the RFC was engaged, including Egypt, Palestine, Mesopotamia, Salonika, East Africa and Italy. Although the nature of warfare, both on the ground and in the air, was rather different in these ‘side-show’ campaigns, most airborne practices and procedures were similar to those employed on the Western Front. The major differences in the style of operations stemmed from the much smaller numbers involved and the fact that mobility was not totally denied to the ground forces involved. Thus, for instance, while artillery co-operation did take place, barrages were on nothing like the same scale or frequency as in Picardy or Flanders. While the fighting may have been less focused, however, it covered much larger areas and reconnaissance was at least as important as it was in France.
It is interesting to note that, because of the distances involved and the lack of a European-style transport infrastructure, difficulties were experienced in maintaining the essential liaison between squadrons working with the guns and the batteries that they were supporting. To alleviate this problem, horses were eventually provided to permit, specifically, observers to visit their gunner colleagues.18
Climate and the terrain were other significant factors which influenced the conduct of war in the side-shows. Ranging from jungle, through desert, to the mountains of the Balkans and the Trentino, operating conditions were generally more extreme and more hostile than those to which British aviators were accustomed and they brought their own associated hazards.
A BE2c, 4395, somewhere in the Middle East, probably with No 14 Sqn in Egypt. (Chaz Bowyer)
The first British military air presence in Egypt was established as early as November 1914 when a small detachment arrived from England. Although it brought no observers with it, the ‘Air Unit, Egypt’ soon acquired the services of a number of personnel formerly serving with the Anglo-Egyptian Government, including, for instance, Lt H G Hillas who had been with the Ministry of Finance, Lt D R Tweedie of the Coast Guard and (briefly) 2/Lt Sir Robert Paul of the Irrigation Dept. Like their contemporaries in France, they were totally untrained as aviators, but they did know the country. At least a dozen observers had been recruited by mid-January but by the end of that month eight of them had, in effect, been seconded to the RNAS as they had been assigned to Port Said to fly with the French Seaplane Flight based on the SS Aenne Rickmers.19
A second flight was set up in Mesopotamia during April 1915 but, while this and the flight in Egypt both saw some action, the RFC did not become deeply involved in the more remote theatres until the autumn, by which time the two original units had been reorganised and merged to become No 30 Sqn.20 In November 5th Wg’s Headquarters arrived in Egypt accompanied by two fully equipped units, Nos 14 and 17 Sqns. Both of these squadrons were more or less manned to establishment, their combined strength including twenty-one observers. At much the same time No 26 Sqn had sailed from England bound for Mombassa, while No 31 Sqn began to move to India, one flight at a time. It was July 1916 before No 31 Sqn’s third flight reached its destination and in that month No 17 Sqn moved to Macedonia, so that the RFC now had a presence in most of the theatres in which British forces were currently engaged. The only significant exception had been the Dardanelles, the Aegean being an RNAS preserve.
Neither of the two units which had been most recently posted abroad had brought any observers with them but a headcount in August 1916 revealed that, apart from those in France, sixty-five officers were serving with overseas RFC units as nominal observers, twenty-one of them being rated as fully qualified. The distribution was as follows: No 14 Sqn had twenty-eight (fifteen qualified); No 17 Sqn had fifteen (three qualified); No 1 Sqn AFC (later No 67 Sqn RFC) had fourteen (three qualified); No 26 Sqn had eight, all unqualified, while Nos 30 and 31 Sqns had none. The next influx of trained men did not arrive from England until October 1916 when No 47 Sqn was sent out to Salonika. Thereafter, few (if any) reinforcements or replacements were sent out and, as in France, most additional observers were obtained from local volunteers and trained in-house under squadron arrangements. A formal flying training organisation began to take shape in Egypt during 1916 but, as described later, it would be some time before this turned its attention to the provision of observers.
Meanwhile, a new observer in the Middle East had to cope as best he could. His situation would have been much the same as that encountered by 2/Lt Portal in France in 1915 (see pages 11-12), although, if anything, the facilities were even less sophisticated. Flt Lt R M C Macfarlan recalled his initiation into the mysteries of aviation with No 30 Sqn as follows:21
‘In contrast to the training observers were given at home (sic) we were what might be called ‘self-taught’. No instruction was given in Lewis gun or aerial firing and the procedure for Artillery Co-operation we had to pick up for ourselves, assisted by any other observer who was willing to spare the time. After five days with the squadron I was detailed to carry out a shoot without ever having been taken up for air experience, however, on explaining the situation, I was given a short flight and then sent up.’
1915-16. The introduction of the two-seat fighter.
Meanwhile, while the RFC had been establishing itself further afield, air operations in France were becoming increasingly sophisticated. During 1915 the RFC introduced several more warlike two-seaters, first the Vickers FB5, followed by a few of Farnborough’s FE2as and, before the end of the year, the first of the far more numerous FE2bs. Although their primary functions were still reconnaissance and photography, these aeroplanes had been designed as gun-carriers so that they could also be used to engage the enemy in the air. Their arrival in France raised the profile of the observer significantly, as it was he who generally wielded the armament in these pusher types.22
Typical armament of an FE2, a pair of Lewis Mk Ils. The front gun, which lacks an ammunition drum, is carried on a simple pillar mounting, possibly a No 4 Mk III. The other weapon, which has a 97-round magazine, is carried on a swan-necked, telescopic No 10 mounting, the ‘Anderson arch’, which supported this being hidden beneath the cockpit coaming. The rear gun could be handled by either crew member, but it was of most use when wielded by the observer/gunner for rear defence. In order to fire backwards over the upper wing, the gunner had to stand up, his only security being his grip on the gun plus whatever purchase he could gain from bracing his legs against the aircraft structure. Both guns have ‘deflector’ bags to catch ejected cartridge cases which might otherwise fly back in the slipstream and damage the pilot and/or the propeller. (J M Bruce/G S Leslie collection)
The pusher concept was an exercise in lateral thinking which, by outflanking it, effectively solved the problem of providing a forward-firing gun in the absence of a satisfactory means of avoiding damage to the propeller of a tractor design. This layout afforded the occupant of the front cockpit, the observer, a virtually unrestricted field of fire to both sides and ahead of the aircraft and, by firing backwards over the upper mainplane (of an FE2), it was also possible for him to provide some sort of defence of the rear sector. Since the latter required him to stand up in a violently manoeuvring aeroplane while attempting to bring his gun to bear in an icy 70 mph slipstream, however, this can scarcely have been very effective.
Passing reference has already been made to the problems inherent in communication between the crew members of an aeroplane of WW I vintage and this was as true of the FE2 as of any other. When being pursued by enemy fighters, for instance, the observer might find himself standing up in his cockpit, facing backwards, in order to indicate to his pilot which way to turn. In the heat of the moment this was not always as straightforward as it sounds, as described by Maj C S Morice, writing of an incident that occurred while he was flying with No 57 Sqn:23
‘… each time they dived, my observer, who was watching my tail, kept hitting me on the side of my head the way they were diving in order to make me turn in that direction to try and drive them off. I think the thought of landing in Germany (sic) must have been troubling my observer, I know it was me, because, each time he struck me was harder than the last till I could not stand it any longer. So I stood up and hit him back, unfortunately placing him Hors de Combat for the rest of the trip.’
These photographs convey some impression of the practical problems involved in mounting a machine gun effectively in the front (observers) cockpit of a BE2. The picture above shows a BE2e with a Lewis Mk II on a No 1 Mk II swivelling ‘candlestick’ mount; there would have been a similar facility on the opposing (port) front strut. The picture below shows the same gun mounted on a telescopic Strange mount; the gun could be swivelled through 180°, permitting the pilot in the rear cockpit to fire forwards and upwards. One should not, however, underestimate the difficulty involved in dismounting, transferring and remounting the gun in a manoeuvring aircraft while dressed in bulky leather clothing in sub-zero temperatures and a 70 mph gale. (Both J M Bruce/G S Leslie collection)
While the crews of these pusher aeroplanes clearly remained vulnerable to attacks from the rear, they were still much better off than those of most contemporary tractor types (like RE7s and BE2s) who were hard-pressed to draw a bead in any direction. The oblique angles at which fixed guns had to be installed (to avoid hitting the propeller) made ‘aiming off’ extremely difficult for the pilot and the need to allow additionally for deflection rendered the chances of his actually hitting the target very small indeed. Flexibly mounted guns were not the answer either, as it was almost impossible for the pilot to manipulate and fire these effectively as well as fly the aeroplane.
An early Sopwith 1½ Strutter, 7777, with a Nieuport mounting for the rear gun. The Sopwith established the classic two-seat fighter configuration, the pilot (now in the front cockpit) having a fixed forward-firing Vickers gun and the observer a flexibly mounted Lewis. It only remained to move the cockpits closer together (as in the Bristol Fighter) to permit the crew to communicate more easily, and thus co-operate more closely. (J M Bruce/G S Leslie collection)
Lt P E Foot of No 15 Sqn demonstrating a Lewis Mk II, fitted with a Norman vane sight and a 97-round magazine, mounted on a No 3 Mk II barbette. More commonly known as the Scarff ring, this arrangement became the standard means of mounting defensive armament from 1917 until the mid-1930s. (J M Bruce/G S Leslie collection)
Nor was providing the observer with a flexibly mounted gun a satisfactory solution. Occupying the front cockpit, he was closer to, and therefore even more hampered by, the propeller than the pilot, and further boxed-in by the wings and a cat’s cradle of struts and bracing wires. This resulted in a hopelessly restricted field of fire in most directions, although, by shooting over or past the pilot’s head, he could provide some sort of rearward defence. Ingenious attempts to provide early observation aeroplanes with a means of defending themselves continued but, while they may have served to boost morale, none of them really overcame the fundamental limitation inherent in the unsatisfactory seating arrangements for the crew.24 (Some additional notes on the evolution of early aircraft gun armament are at Annex C.)
The enemy’s early, unarmed, B-Type two-seaters had suffered from exactly the same drawbacks as the RFC’s BEs, but the pfennig dropped much more quickly on their side of the lines. The Germans soon abandoned pre-war orthodoxy and the observer in (most of) their more powerful, armed, C-Types, which began to appear in the spring of 1915, occupied the rear cockpit, permitting him to use his gun to considerable effect. It was to be another two years before the RFC followed suit wholeheartedly, large numbers of late-model BE2s soldiering on well into 1917 before they were finally replaced by RE8s, DH 4s and Armstrong Whitworth FK8s in which the allocation of cockpits was reversed.
Because of the lack of recognition which their efforts have generally received, the point needs to be made that, although pilots have tended to be given (or to have claimed?) most of the credit for the victories scored by the RFC’s first generation of (pusher) two-seat fighters, practically all of them were actually shot down as a result of the marksmanship of observers. Furthermore, the introduction of the tractor-powered Sopwith 1½ Strutter from mid-1916 made very little difference to this pattern.
With a forward-firing Vickers gun, synchronised to fire through the disc swept by the propeller, and with the observer’s Lewis transferred to the rear cockpit, the layout of the Sopwith had established the classic two-seat fighter format.25 Unfortunately the 1½ Strutter had neither the power nor the manoeuvrability to cope with the new singleseat Halberstadt and Albatros scouts by which it was opposed. By early 1917, although the Sopwith squadrons continued, like the rest of the RFC, to pursue a doggedly offensive strategy, they were being increasingly obliged to employ defensive tactics. As Sholto Douglas, OC 43 Sqn at the time, later wrote, ‘… we found that it was necessary […] to fly underneath his formations so as to lure him into attacking us; and then we would trust to the good shooting of our observers to pick off the Huns …’26
Thus, despite the availability of a more efficient fighting aeroplane, it had been introduced into service too late. For long-range reconnaissance work, the Sopwith’s primary task, it became essential to fly in formation (usually five to seven aeroplanes, ideally with airborne reserves). While the defensive cross-fire which this provided increased the chances of survival, in terms of tactics it was very restrictive and presented the pilot with few firing opportunities. Thus it was still the observer who was actually inflicting most of the damage on the enemy in aerial combat.27 The performance of the Sopwith’s replacement, the remarkable Bristol Fighter, was such that it could hold its own in combat, even against single-seaters. Once its capabilities had been fully recognised, its crews were freed from the constraints imposed by the need to maintain formation and the Bristol’s manoeuvrability did permit its pilots to bring the front gun to bear on occasion but, even then, the contribution made by back-seaters continued to be very substantial.
1916. The emergence of role specialisation.
Some of the skills which had been identified in the summer of 1915 (see pages 15-16) were obviously essential for any observer operating over France but the either/or provision within the last requirement was a clear indication that role specialisation had already begun to emerge. Despite the constraints imposed by the relatively limited capabilities of the available aeroplanes, two distinct styles of RFC activity had evolved. These could be broadly characterised as short- and long-range work, ie that which took place in close proximity to the trenches and that which penetrated some distance into enemy airspace. Depending upon their assignments, therefore, the duties of individual observers had begun to differ significantly.
Reflecting this development, and to improve the control and administration of the growing number of squadrons deployed (sixteen by the end of 1915), the RFC in France was reorganised in January 1916.28 A brigade structure was introduced with one brigade being assigned to each of the armies in the field, of which there were four by April. Each brigade controlled two wings of aeroplanes. One, designated as an (Army) Wing, was concerned with relatively long-range work (reconnaissance in depth, bombing and air fighting). The other undertook shorter-range tasks (contact patrols, artillery co-operation and trench photography) and was designated a (Corps) Wing. Each wing had three or four squadrons.29
In this context it would be as well to give some scale to the rather imprecise terms ‘long’ and ‘short’. With the armies deadlocked and dug in, it became possible to assign, more or less permanently, clearly defined areas of tactical control to each military formation. When the system was fully developed a typical corps had responsibility for a sector with a front of about 5,000 yards while an army might control four such sectors. In general the RFC’s aerodromes were located within thirty miles of the lines (often much closer), and offensive operations penetrated a similar distance into enemy airspace. The activities of the majority of military aviators took place, therefore, within an airspace box roughly sixty miles long by twenty miles wide. Once the significant local landmarks had become familiar, navigation within this fairly confined area presented little problem – so long as the crew could see the ground. This meant that, for all practical purposes, flying was confined to the hours of daylight and could be severely curtailed by adverse weather.
While the reorganisation of early 1916 had served to define more precisely the role of each squadron, change did not end there. Over the next twelve months the accumulation of experience and developments in the nature of air warfare also began to raise questions over the specific functions of the individual members within a crew. Ever since mid-1915, when radio equipment had become generally available, it had been conventional for the observer to conduct an artillery shoot, since he usually handled ‘the buzzer’. This had never been a rigidly enforced doctrine, however, and by late 1916 it was becoming increasingly common for pilots to carry out this task, leaving their observers to scan the skies for enemy fighters.30
This trend was most marked within the corps squadrons assigned to IV Bde, those which had born the brunt of the fighting over the battlefields of the Somme, where they had suffered badly at the hands of an enemy whose more numerous and more potent single-seaters had begun to hunt in packs (Jagdstaffeln). While its hopelessly inefficient seating arrangements meant that the docile BE2 was incapable of putting up much of a fight, its crew’s chances of survival were marginally improved if they could at least see the enemy coming – hence the emphasis being placed on maintaining a good look out. For the future, the early prospect of more effectively armed RE8s made it even more likely that the role of the observer would become one of using his own gun, rather than of directing the fire of those on the ground.
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1 AIR1/785/204/558. This file contains a copy of the revised, June 1915, edition of the Flying Training Manual. Pt II.
2 It is noticeable that edicts handed down by the RFC’s senior officers (and probably those of the other arms too) tended to use language which seems surprisingly moderate today. It was presumably taken for granted that any Public School-educated Edwardian gentlemen would automatically conform to the wishes of another who was acknowledged to be in a position of authority within the hierarchy. It would, therefore, have seemed boorish, unnatural and quite unnecessary to use vulgar imperatives like ‘must’ when an advisory ‘should’ was quite sufficient to secure compliance. After 1915 the proportion of officers who had attended Public Schools declined rapidly and the harsh realities and increasing complexity of warfare meant that it became inadvisable to rely on gentlemanly understandings. As a result, later regulations tend to be expressed with far greater precision and the use of executive language becomes increasingly common.
3 AIR1/997/204/5/1241. HQ RFC letter CRFC 1938, dated 29 July 1915. Prior to this the definition of training standards had been left to the discretion of individual Wing Commanders. In 2nd Wg, for instance, Lt-Col C J Burke had published appropriate guidance to OCs Nos 1, 5 and 6 Sqns in his SW 252 of 19 April 1915 (AIR1/920/204/5/884).
4 For test purposes a word was defined as having five characters.
5 Since front line infantry had no access to radio, there was a permanent residual requirement for less sophisticated means of air-to-ground communication, like the Klaxon horn, notably in the context of contact patrols.
6 More formally designated as the Type 52, the Sterling set was a simple, robust spark transmitter. Devised by Lt B Binyon RN at Eastchurch in October 1914, it had been adopted by the RFC as the standard equipment for artillery co-operation work by mid-1915 and it remained in large-scale use until the end of the war. Its name derived from the fact that the initial production contract went to the Sterling Telephone Company.
7 The quotation is from Verfügung des Chefs des Feldflugwesens (Orders of the Director of Aeronautics) No 12700 dated 10 March 1916, a facsimile of an original copy of which was reproduced in 1998 in Cross & Cockade International Journal, Vol 29, No 1. See also Ch 5 of Georg Paul Neumann’s The German Air Force in the Great War (1920).
8 AIR2/15/5 5/RFC/16. Letter CRFC 1701(A) dated 15 June 1915 from Maj-Gen Henderson to the Adjutant General at GHQ BEF. As an aside, it is interesting to note that when giving evidence to the Committee on the Administration and Command of the RFC (see page 32) on 25 May 1916, one of the Corps’ accusers, Mr Joynson-Hicks MP, pointed out that he had raised the question of badges for observers in the House on 20 July 1915 (see ZHC2/582, Hansard) and, although modesty precluded his specifically claiming credit for it, that they had been introduced shortly afterwards. A little surprisingly, Henderson did not make an issue of this, since he had actually started the ball rolling himself five weeks before Joynson-Hicks had belatedly taken up the cause.
9 Ibid. Letter Q/3276 dated 26 June 1915 from Field Marshal French to the War Office.
10 Ibid. Although the badge that was eventually introduced was embroidered in white on a black ground, it is interesting to observe that this file contains two examples of early prototypes which are embroidered in beige on khaki.
11 Army Order 327 of 23 August 1915, promulgated just two and half years after the introduction of a flying badge for pilots (by Army Order 40 of 1 February 1913), authorised the wearing of a single-winged ‘O’ by officers qualified as observers. Incidentally, while the design of the flying badge had been formally approved by HM King George V as early as June 1912 (AIR2/3), evidence has yet to be found to establish that the observers badge was ever referred to the Palace, which it should have been. Interestingly, in the article referred to in Chapter 2, Note 34, Money claims that he and 2/Lt J McArthur were the very first observers to be authorised to wear the flying ‘O’. If so, this distinction was to be short-lived, as they were posted to Netheravon within a matter of days where their new CO, No 12 Sqn’s Maj C L N Newall, required them to remove their badges, because neither officer had yet flown in action and thus could not be recognised as being fully qualified in accordance with the requirements published on 29 July (see pages 15-16).
12 As explained in the Preface, within this book apostrophes will not be associated with the words ‘observers’, ‘pilots’, ‘navigators’, etc when they are used as plural attributive nouns.
13 Army Order 404, published on 11 October 1915, authorised the wearing of the observers badge by suitably qualified ‘Warrant Officers, Non-Commissioned Officers and Other Ranks’.
14 Laws, who was commissioned in November 1915, just a month after he had acquired his flying ‘O’, subsequently became one of the RAF’s experts in photography. He eventually retired in 1946 as a group captain but, as his rank implies, he had by that time long since traded-in his ‘O’ for a pilots badge.
15 AIR1/997/204/5/1241. War Office letter 87/6370(MA1) dated 27 October 1915.
16 AIR1/874/204/5/557. The introduction of flying pay for noncommissioned observers on a per diem basis was announced by War Office letter 20/RFC/97(MA1) dated 10 January 1916, although implementation had to await the publication of a Royal Warrant and it was two months before the procedure for claiming was announced in HQ RFC Routine Orders for 14 March. This innovation was actually a restatement and extension of a pre-existing arrangement, as provision for an NCO or soldier to be paid two shillings for each day on which he flew as an observer had been reflected in Army Order 244 of 1 August 1914; warrant officers were to be paid at the same rate as officers.
17 AIR1/983/204/5/1167. Non-commissioned aircrew became eligible to draw flying pay on a continuous basis on the authority of a Royal Warrant which was reproduced in HQ RFC’s Routine Orders for 22 December 1916.
18 AIR1/17/15/1/87. The establishment of a Corps Reconnaissance Squadron (Middle East), as published in December 1917, was annotated to include the provision of three horses for use by observers.
19 The Aenne Rickmers was a 4,000 ton German steamer which had been seized by the British on the outbreak of war. Pressed into service as a seaplane carrier, her initial equipment was a pair of Nieuport IVs of l’Aviation Maritime Française. In August 1915 the ship was commissioned into the Royal Navy as HMS Anne for service with the East Indies and Egypt Seaplane Squadron.
20 For much of 1915 the RFC’s organisation in the Middle East was rather vaguely defined. The original flight in Egypt had been designated as No 30 Sqn with effect from 24 March, although no one seems to have bothered to notify the CO of this fact until as late as 31 July [War Office letter 87/4469(MA1)]. The other independent flight, which was operating in Mesopotamia, was sponsored by the Government of India. Following negotiations between London and Delhi, ‘air unit personnel’ in Mesopotamia were gazetted to the RFC on 5 August. Eventually, on 7 November, the unit in Mesopotamia was reorganised and redesignated to become the Headquarters plus A and B Flights of No 30 Sqn. Having been relieved by the arrival of No 14 Sqn at about the same time, No 30 Sqn’s Egypt echelon moved to Basra to become C Flight.
21 AIR1/2388/228/11/88. Taken from an account of his previous Service experience, written by Flt Lt R M C Macfarlan at the RAF Staff College in 1926. Macfarlan flew as an observer with No 30 Sqn from September 1916 to March 1917 before returning to the UK to train as a pilot.
22 Provision was sometimes made for the pilot of a Vickers FB 5 or an FE2 to have access to a gun but this option was not often exercised.
23 AIR1/173/15/161/1. Letter dated 11 April 1919 in which Morice forbore to identify his observer but his description fits an engagement that occurred on 30 April 1917, in which case his over-enthusiastic companion would have been Lt F Leathley.
24 The practice of putting the ‘passenger’ in the front seat originated with early aircraft designers who sought to locate the disposable load more or less at the centre of gravity, so that it would make no difference to an aeroplane’s balance whether or not the seat was occupied. Putting the pilot in the front cockpit meant that ballast often had to be carried in the back seat if the aeroplane were flown solo, hence the prominent warning notices which were frequently to be seen stencilled beneath the sills of the observers cockpits of, for instance, RE8s and Bristol Fighters.
25 ‘Established’ for the British that is; as previously noted, the Germans had adopted the observer-in-the-back-seat layout a year earlier, as in the Albatros C.I, Rumpler C.I and LVG C.I, although the contemporary Aviatik C.I had retained the observer-in-the-front arrangement.
26 Sholto Douglas, Years of Combat (1963), p172.
27 Annex E to this author’s The Flying Camels (1995) contains an analysis of all combat reports submitted by No 45 Sqn, these providing ample evidence to support the contention that observers inflicted far more damage on the enemy than pilots. It is a matter of record that between June and August 1917 (the squadron’s last three months flying, by then seriously outclassed, 1½ Strutters) a total of fifty victories was claimed, fourteen of these being recognised as confirmed ‘kills’. An analysis of the Reports indicates that of the overall claim of fifty, thirty-three were probably attributable to the guns of observers and fifteen to those of pilots. The surviving documents do not permit an attribution to be made in the remaining two instances but it is quite clear that the ratio of claims was about 2:1 in favour of back-seaters. If the assessment is confined to the fourteen confirmed victories the contrast is even more marked. Twelve of these aircraft were shot down by observers, only two by pilots. The ratio of two out of fifteen possible claims by pilots, versus twelve out of thirty-three by observers, further suggests that pilots may have been more prone to making optimistic claims (see also page 94).
28 The decision to reorganise the RFC on a brigade basis was announced by Army Order 385 of 1 October 1915. Home-based units had been marshalled into II (soon to be renumbered as VI) and V Bdes before the end of the year but the RFC in the Field did not adopt a brigade structure until the following January.
29 The strength of a wing was not fixed and it could be adjusted as necessary to meet tactical needs. Wings also tended to become larger as the war progressed and by November 1918 some were controlling as many as eight squadrons.
30 AIR1/2268/209/70/190. In November 1916, for instance, a memorandum raised by the Artillery Adviser at HQ RFC to refute the arguments put forward by GOCs 1st and 4th Armies in a bid to gain control of the corps reconnaissance squadrons, noted that ‘Observation of fire is best done by the pilot.’