The thirtieth of April was a red letter day for me. I celebrated it by having a record number of fights in a given space of time. In one hour and forty-five minutes I had nine separate scraps. This was during the morning. Before we had tea that afternoon, the Major and I had a set-to with four scarlet German scouts that was the most hair-raising encounter I have ever been mixed up in.
This very pleasant fighting day started when I led my patrol over the lines, and dived so steeply after an enemy machine which suddenly appeared beneath me, that I nearly turned over. The remainder of the patrol lost me completely. I kept putting the nose of my Nieuport down until I got beyond the vertical point. I fell forward in my seat and struck my head against the little windscreen. I was going down so fast I upset my aim completely, and allowed the Hun, by a quick manoeuvre, to escape me altogether. The patrol had disappeared so I climbed up as fast as I could to have a look around.
Five minutes later I saw two huge Huns directly over our lines. They were easily mammoths of the air. I wanted to have a look at the strangers, so started in their direction, keeping my own level, which was a little beneath the big Germans. They grew rapidly in size as I approached, and I took them to be some new type of two-seater. From later experiences and diagrams I have seen, I think now they must have been the three-seater Gothas—like the machines that later flew over London so often, many of them coming to grief as the penalty of their daring.
This was probably the first appearance of the Gothas over our lines. A few days later I had another glimpse of two of them in the distance, but that was the last I saw of the monstrous Germans. This day they seemed rather keen for a fight, and one of them came down in a slow spiral to get at me. I, at the same time, was trying to stay in the “blind spot” just beneath him, and hoped eventually to get a steady shot at some vital point. We must have made a ludicrous picture, little me under the huge Hun. I felt like a mosquito chasing a wasp, but was willing to take a chance.
While manoeuvring with the first monster, the second one dived at me from a slight angle and seemed to open fire with a whole battery of machine guns. I dived to gain a little more speed, then pulled my nose, straight up into the air and opened fire. When I had got off about fifteen rounds the gun jammed, and I had to dive quickly away to see what was wrong. I found I could do nothing with it in the air, but my aerodrome was only a few miles away, so I dived down to it, corrected the jam, and was away again in a few minutes in search of more excitement.
I was very peevish with myself for having missed a chance to bring down one of the big new German machines, and was in a real fighting temper as I recrossed the lines. I had not gone far on my way when I saw three of the enemy about two miles away, doing artillery work. I dived for the nearest one and opened fire. Then I had the somewhat stirring sensation of seeing flaming bullets coming from all three of the Huns at once in my direction. The odds were three to one against me, and each enemy machine had two guns to my one, but suddenly they quit firing, turned, and fled away. I went after them, but suddenly saw the game they were attempting to play. They were trying to lead me directly under five scarlet Albatross scouts.
These scarlet machines, as I have explained before, all belonged to von Richtofen’s squadron. I saw them just in time to turn away. I drew off about a mile then easily outclimbed my brilliant red rivals. Having gained the advantage of position I decided to have a go at the crack German flyers. I dived toward them with my gun rattling, but just before reaching their level I pulled the machine up and “zoomed” straight up in the air, ascending for a short distance with the speed of a rocket. Then I would turn and dive and open fire again, repeating the performance several times. The Huns evidently had expected me to dive right through them, but my tactics took them by surprise and they began to show nervousness. After the third “zoom” and dive, the formation broke up and scattered. Then I turned around to look for the treacherous two-seaters who had sought to lead me into a veritable death trap. I had searched several minutes before I picked them out of the sky, and I can still remember the thrill of joy with which I hailed them. It had seemed such a rotten trick, when they were three to one, not even to show fight, but simply try to trick me. I felt I must have vengeance, and went after them with the firm conviction that this time something was going to happen. I got into position where they would pass in front of me and dived at the second Hun. His observer was firing at me, and pretty soon the other two Huns chimed in. Add to this staccato chorus the healthy rattle of my own gun and you may gain some idea of the din we were making in midair. My first twenty shots silenced the observer in the machine I was attacking, and as I passed over it, it suddenly slipped to one side, then stood on its nose, and fell. I did not have time to watch this machine down, but turned to attack the third Hun in the line. He had seen his comrade’s fate, however, and, losing heart, had begun to dive away. I poured fifty rounds after him, then let him go. The leading machine had now disappeared, so I was left free to dive down and see what had happened to the Hun who had fallen out of the fight. He crashed in the most satisfactory manner. I turned and flew south, feeling very much better.
But I was not idle long. The five scarlet scouts had gotten together again and were approaching our lines further south with the evident intention of attacking isolated British artillery machines. This particular squadron had made a habit of sneaking across our lines during the spring, and its leader had become known among our infantry as the “Little Red Devil,” and one still hears him spoken of by the people who were in the trenches at that time. We had often tried to catch him on one of these expeditions, but he and his scarlet followers always chose a moment when our fighting patrols were engaged on another sector of the front. Then, dashing across the lines, the red Albatrosses would shoot down one of our older machines which we were employing then on observation work.
This morning I had an extra feeling of bitterness toward the Richtofens for their mean attempt to trick, and I went after them again with a feeling of exalted strength. I was above them as before and after one dive, they turned away east and gave up their idea of setting upon our artillery workers. I considered it unwise to go down and actually mix it in the middle of them, as they were all good men. So I contented myself with harassing them from above as I had done in the previous fight with the quintet that morning. They were apparently much annoyed at this and kept steadily on their way east. I followed for quite a distance and then sat over them as one by one they all went down and landed.
On the way home I had a skirmish with two German artillery machines, but we did not get within very close range of each other and nothing happened. They were frightened a bit, none the less, and sped away. In a little while, however, they plucked up courage and came back to resume their work of spotting for the German guns. This time I tried going at them from the front, and it proved exciting to say the least. I approached the leading Hun of the pair head on, opening fire when about two hundred yards away. He also opened fire about the same time. We drew nearer and nearer together, both firing as fast and direct as we could. I could see the Hun bullets going about three feet to one side of me, passing between my upper and lower planes. My own were doing better work, and several times it seemed certain that some of them were hitting the front of the enemy machine. On we came, each doing over a hundred miles an hour, which would have meant a colliding impact of more than two hundred miles an hour. With big engines in front of us for protection we were taking the risks of each other’s bullets. Thirty yards away we were both holding to our course, and then, much to my relief, be it confessed, the Hun dived, and I thought I had hit him. I turned quickly, but in doing so lost sight of him completely. Then a second later I saw him, some distance away, going down in a slight glide, evidently quite under control, but I think badly hit. The other machine followed him down and neither of them returned. I had very little ammunition left but stayed on the lines another fifteen minutes hoping for one more fight.
It came when I sighted one of my favourites—an enemy two-seater—at work. I got directly above him, then dived vertically, reserving my fire until I was very close. The enemy observer had his gun trained up at me and the bullets were streaming past as I came down. I missed him on my dive, so shot by his tail, then “zoomed” up underneath and opened fire from the blind spot there.
I don’t know what was the matter with my shooting this morning, for with the exception of the machine I hit from the side, it seemed to have become a habit with my enemies to dive away from me and escape. I did not seem to be able to knock them out of control. This one, like the others, dived steeply, and though I followed and fired all of my remaining bullets after him, he continued in his long straight dive and landed safely in the corner of a field near the city of Lens. Two or three “Archie” batteries took “bites” at me as I crossed the lines for luncheon.
Then came my thrilling adventure of the afternoon. The many experiences of the morning had put me in good humour for fighting, and immediately the midday meal was finished, I was up in the air again, with my squadron commander, to see if there were any Huns about looking for a bit of trouble. We patrolled along the lines for twenty minutes, but saw nothing in that time. Then, as I was leading, I headed further into enemy territory, and presently, to the south of us, we saw five Albatross scouts. We went after them, but before we had come within firing distance, we discovered four red Albatrosses just to our right. This latter quartette, I believe, was made up of Baron von Richtofen and three of his best men.
However, although we knew who they were, we had been searching for a fight, and were feeling rather bored with doing nothing, so after the four we went. The Major reached them first and opened fire on the rear machine from behind. Immediately the leader of the scouts did a lightning turn and came back at the Major, firing at him and passing within two or three feet of his machine. In my turn, I opened fire on the Baron, and in another half-moment found myself in the midst of what seemed to be a stampede of blood-thirsty animals. Everywhere I turned smoking bullets were jumping at me, and although I got in two or three good bursts at the Baron’s “red devil,” I was rather bewildered for two or three minutes, as I could not see what was happening to the Major and was not at all certain as to what was going to happen to me.
It was a decided difference from the fighting of the morning. The Germans seemed to be out to avenge their losses and certainly were in fighting trim. Around we went in cyclonic circles for several minutes, here a flash of the Hun machines, then a flash of silver as my squadron commander would whizz by. All the time I would be in the same mix-up myself, every now and then finding a red machine in front of me and getting in a round or two of quick shots. I was glad the Germans were scarlet and we were silver. There was no need to hesitate about firing when the right colour flitted by your nose. It was a lightning fight and I have never been in anything just like it. Firing one moment, you would have to concentrate all your mind and muscle the next in doing a quick turn to avoid a collision. Once my gun jammed, and while manoeuvring to the utmost of my ability to escape the direct fire of one of the ravenous Germans, I had to “fuss” with the weapon until I got it right again. I had just got going again when von Richtofen flashed by me and I let him have a short burst. As I did so, I saw up above me four more machines coming down to join in the fight. Being far inside the German lines, I at once decided they were additional Huns, so I “zoomed” up out of the fight to be free for a moment and have a look around. The moment I did this I saw the approaching machines were tri-planes, belonging to one of our naval squadrons, and they were coming for all they were worth to help us against the Albatrosses. The latter, however, had had enough of the fight by now, and at the moment I “zoomed” they dived and flew away toward the earth. I did not know this until I looked down to where the fight should still have been in progress. There was nothing to be seen. Everybody had disappeared, including the Major. It was a sad moment for me, for I felt I had surely lost him this time. After circling over the spot for five minutes or more, and exchanging signals with the tri-planes, I started for home with a heavy heart.
On the way I saw another machine approaching me, and got into fighting position in the event it should prove hostile. As we drew nearer together I recognised it as another Nieuport, and then, to my great joy I realised it was the Major. He had flown west at top speed as soon as he saw the fight was over and I was not to be seen. He was afraid I had followed the Huns down to the ground in my excitement, and was very anxious as to what had happened to me. Upon recognising each other we waved our hands in the air, then came close enough together to exchange broad grins. We flew side by side to the aerodrome and landed. I found my machine had been very badly shot about, one group of seven bullets having passed within an inch of me in one place. It had been a close shave, but a wonderful, soul-stirring fight.