2nd Lieutenant Cuthbert John Creery
21 SQUADRON, ROYAL FLYING CORPS
THE RFC WAS HAVING A miserable time trying to stay in the air in the midst of the appalling weather, battling, ‘rain, high winds, mist and cold in their exposed cockpits’. Observing the ground was growing ever more difficult ‘but full advantage was taken of every bright interval to direct artillery fire and to photograph new work in the German defences’. Among those doing his best to stay airborne was a 21 year old born in England but raised in Vancouver. Cuthbert Creery originally enlisted as a trooper in a battalion of the Canadian Mounted Rifles, but towards the end of 1915 he had obtained a pilot’s certificate and on arrival in London was immediately nominated for a commission in the RFC. Cuthbert had a sense of fun while training at Netheravon. Given a dud aeroplane with an engine too weak to get off the ground one afternoon, he and a friend made the most of a chance for mischief. ‘Creery got in the observer’s seat and I got in the pilot’s seat, and we taxied all over the aerodrome doing figure 8s, etc., all over the ground. The engine was so weak it wouldn’t leave the ground, but we had a good time tearing around and amusing the rustics grouped along a fence.’ Cuthbert qualified as a flying officer in April 1916 and was sent to 21 Squadron two weeks later. He was wounded after just a few days. Accidents were frequent in the life of an airman and Cuthbert suffered a cut lip and a graze to his face.
Newspaper headline in tribute to Cuthbert Creery (far left) and his four brothers. (Authors’ collection)
However, he had been working solidly since before the infantry campaign on the Somme had officially begun on bombing and reconnaissance missions. The latter in particular was critical in the build-up to 1st July, and squadrons were busy gathering all the information possible to help the men on the ground progress when zero hour came. Cuthbert had a close shave on 17th June. At 4:30pm, he was one of four pilots to take off on a reconnaissance flight. Three of the aeroplanes suffered major mechanical difficulties and Cuthbert managed to make sure he was over British lines before he was forced to bring his ‘bus’ to ground.
On the opening day of the Battle of the Somme, Cuthbert was diverted to bombing raids, targeting a German strong point. The squadron flew from aerodromes near Saint-Omer and Beaumont Hamel throughout the month and dropped nearly 30 tons of explosives on Bapaume alone. Airmen made repeated flights on 1st July, and in the afternoon Cuthbert took off on a flight with a large 336lb bomb dangling from his machine. He dropped it from a height of 9,000ft, while skirting the range of German anti-aircraft guns.
As July wore on, Cuthbert’s targets were the village of Le Transloy and Cambrai Station as the attack on Bazentin Ridge commenced, in order to slow the progress of any German attempts to reinforce their divisions and hopefully disrupt their supply chain. On 21st July, Cuthbert and his observer were part of a flight that took off in the direction of Ephey, another German-held town to the rear of their lines. This time Cuthbert was armed with smaller bombs and they registered five bursts: two on Ephey Station, far across the line behind Combles and Maurepas and on the important rail line running up to Cambrai. One bomb hit the ground in the station and another a large stone building. German anti-aircraft fire that day was accurate. While in the air it made sense for either of the RE’s occupants to note anything of interested and they spotted a train steaming to the east of Ephey and another in the station facing south-east for intelligence men on the ground to ponder. They also spotted an enemy aerodrome and, if that wasn’t enough work for one outing, Cuthbert and his observer, who manned a gun from his seat, would now have to fight their way home.
Cuthbert turned to the left and followed a fellow squadron member who had got himself separated from the others. He spied a German machine circling around his comrade and watched as it swept down and opened fire from behind. Cuthbert could see tracer bullets from the other RE pouring out towards the enemy airman as his fellow pilot attempted to fight him off. Arriving on the scene, Cuthbert dived at the back of the hostile machine, but his observer was unable to open fire, the German turning sharply to the right and firing upwards at them as he went down. As he did so, Cuthbert’s observer managed to fire a drum of ammunition at him. Meanwhile, two more enemy machines had overhauled Cuthbert and now began firing at him from above. The observer returned the fire, and the two enemy machines turned to their left in the direction of the other REs, apparently not too interested in the fight. Such was the frantic chaos of air combat over the Somme, but on this occasion Cuthbert was lucky enough to get home.
In August, 21 Squadron gravitated more towards offensive patrols, flying over enemy lines and seeking out German airmen. They had also switched to flying B.E.12s, a single-seat version of the RFC’s workhorse, the B.E.2c. During the attack of 15th September, Cuthbert flew over Vélu aerodrome, taking off at 7am, and dropped six 20lb bombs from 5,500ft on to the German machines. He reported that he thought he saw four bombs explode, dropping close together, although there was very low, thick cloud obstructing his view. The other two went off among machines near a hangar.
As the Battle of the Somme wore on, the daily toil of offensive patrols, raids and scrapping with German airmen took its toll on Britain’s airmen. It was a different type of stress to the infantryman, who endured endless hours of non-activity in the trenches, stretched out over days. When the pilots were on the ground, they were relatively safe to the rear, but for those few hours a day in the air, the much higher chance that they might meet their end was enough to quickly fray the nerves of the often very young men employed to fight the battle from above.
Cuthbert had been on leave at the beginning of October and shortly after he returned the weather broke, grounding the squadron. On the 20th, however, it was clear enough to get up and a flight promptly set off over enemy lines and encountered hostile aircraft. Cuthbert did not return. His friends in the mess were deeply concerned. Often an airman would telephone in from up the lines and request a transport, having come to ground somewhere in the British lines, but in Cuthbert’s case this was unlikely. ‘It is feared he was done in as he was last seen diving at a hun.’ The following day was foggy and his best friend in the squadron sat glumly in the mess writing letters. News filtered in throughout the day. ‘Latest news of Creery is that he fell in a Hun front line trench which we captured later … He had been shot through the head and the heart. The huns had pinched his buttons, etc., and rifled his pockets.’
Cuthbert’s body was recovered and entrusted to another squadron, in which his brother was serving, for burial. Another of the Creery boys was not to return home. Ronald was 20 when he died from ‘severe wounds’ during the spring advance of 1917. Two days later, a third of the brothers, Kenneth, was involved in an air crash that ended his war, allegedly coming to with his left leg dangling over his right shoulder. He pointedly refused to have it amputated and subsequently recovered from his wounds. After a year’s convalescence in Britain, Kenneth returned home to Canada. His brother, 2nd Lieutenant Cuthbert Creery, was laid to rest at Heilly Station Cemetery, plot V.A.9.