Captain Leslie Stafford Charles
60TH SQUADRON, ROYAL FLYING CORPS
AERIAL WARFARE ON A LARGE scale hadn’t even existed at the beginning of the Great War, but by 1916 the role of the airman: directing artillery, constantly photographing enemy positions, bombing and monitoring infantry progress, had become vital. Innovations and tactics rapidly progressed as pilots and observers established their place in modern battle. The pendulum of aerial supremacy swung back and forth. Ostensibly, as the Great War progressed, the airmen’s work was so critical that whoever ruled the skies could stake a claim to rule the battlefield below. Rival air services now deemed it essential to attack each other’s machines to prevent them fulfilling their tasks and in turn they had begun to fly in packs, scouts protecting the working machines, destroying the enemy before he destroyed them, chasing each other out of the sky. The Great War was bringing about the advent of the fighter pilot.
Captain Leslie Charles. (Authors’ collection)
In 1916 the Royal Flying Corps would enjoy a dominance on the Somme in the height of summer that caused the Germans to completely reorganise their air operations. Germany wrought misery on British airmen during 1915, led by men such as the since fallen ace Max Immelmann. In time for 1916, the British air services, the Royal Flying Corps for the army and the Royal Naval Air Service for the Navy, had learned valuable tactical lessons, improved their aircraft and steeled themselves to take the aerial initiative and support the offensive on the Somme. Since before 1st July, airmen had worked tirelessly to support the infantry attacks in every capacity that they could. Mounting hours spent aloft were exhausting. Nerves frayed quickly and life expectancy was pitifully short.
Based with Haig’s headquarters was a group of squadrons that covered many aspects of aerial work: reconnaissance for GHQ, distant bombing raids and a meticulous offensive aimed at enemy machines. With one of these latter squadrons was a 20-year-old pilot who had only just arrived on the front at the end of July. From Stanmore, Middlesex, and educated at Harrow, where he went on a mathematics scholarship, Leslie Charles had been head of his house, a member of the school OTC and of the Philatelic Club. His was a typically glowing, physically active profile of a public school pilot in the Great War.
Having originally joined the Worcestershire Regiment straight from school in summer 1914, Leslie had served at Gallipoli during the third battle for Krithia, only arriving on the peninsula the week before. He was also in action during the attack on Chunuk Bair at the beginning of August, where his battalion suffered almost 800 casualties. He was invalided home later in the month with shellshock, having spent a prolonged stint under fire in the trenches. ‘The battalion has been 27 days in the firing line straight off the reel,’ wrote one of his fellow officers. ‘Even Charles has gone back to the base with a touch of nerve shock.’ It seemed hardly surprising when his recent stint in the Dardanelles was put into perspective:
Poor Charles, he did stick it magnificently, until it became too much for him. He had an extremely hot corner to hang on to throughout the Saturday and Sunday following the advance, and, although his platoon was under an incessant shell and rifle fire, he kept them well in hand. Eventually shells began dropping actually in the trench, after knocking down his parapets and machine gun emplacements; one shell killed four, wounded another and knocked off Charles’ hat, leaving him for a moment practically speechless. He never gave way until relieved, and his line is still intact.
Leslie joined the Royal Flying Corps at the beginning of 1916 and took his pilot’s licence in April before leaving for the Western Front. There, on 21st July, he joined 60 Squadron, piloting a Morane biplane. Not exactly a cutting edge machine, it didn’t handle particularly well and was prone to stalling.
On his arrival air activity was building, with the Germans desperate to stop the destruction being exacted on their vital infrastructure by rampant Allied airmen. Leslie took his first trip over the lines on 26th July with several other members of his squadron and did well, helping two of his comrades to drive off an enemy machine. He spent the next few days twiddling his thumbs, as inclement weather prevented patrols. Then, on the evening of 30th July, he took off again.
Four machines, including Leslie’s, battled twelve of the enemy over Saint-Quentin. Aeroplanes were highly temperamental and the 20 year old and his observer were last seen descending into the German lines with engine trouble; blue smoke pouring behind them: ‘Which would mean,’ his squadron leader explained to Leslie’s family, ‘not that the machine was on fire, but that a bullet had pierced one of the cylinders. The machine, as I say, was going down under perfect control.’ He was not able to witness Leslie come to ground though, and finally, in October the Germans confirmed he had died of wounds in their hands on 30th July. In an example sadly too common on the Western Front, Captain Charles had survived just over a week at the front and taken part in precisely two flights. He was respectfully laid to rest by the enemy at Roisel Communal Cemetery Extension, plot II.L.3.