A German Machine brought down and fired by a British Battle-plane.
(From the drawing by John de G. Bryan. By permission of The Illustrated London News.)
This picture illustrates the splendid feat by which Second Lieutenant Insall won the Victoria Cross. (See page [384].)
The machines used for directing artillery fire are bigger, and carry one or more observers as well as the pilot. They usually have two motors, so that they can still fly if one of them is put out of action. For making raids still bigger machines are used. In 1915 the French pinned their faith to a giant triplane, which well deserved to be called "the Dreadnought of the Air." It was 63 feet from wing to wing; it was driven by four powerful motors, carried two quick-firing cannon and four machine guns, as well as 1,200 pounds of explosives, and on a raid was manned by a crew of four men.
You have frequently read in these pages of the scouting work done by aeroplanes. When they fly over the enemy's lines they have huge cameras fitted to the bodies of the machines. Exposures are made, and the machine speeds back to its own lines, usually amid a storm of bursting shrapnel. Every aerodrome has a dark room in which the plates are developed. An enlargement is made, and the staff is thus provided with a picture of the German trenches as seen from above. If a good photograph is taken, the positions appear as clear as daylight; even the barbed wire and the situation and number of the machine guns can be seen. Poor photographs, however, do not show the details, and cannot distinguish a trench from a watercourse. Sometimes large kites are used for photographic purposes.
You can easily understand what a great change the aeroplane has produced in warfare when I tell you that during the Russo-Japanese War the Japanese fought for weeks, and sacrificed thousands of men, in order to capture the top of a hill from which their observers could overlook Port Arthur. Nowadays an aeroplane can supply all the information needed in a single hour, and howitzers can be directed from the air so that their shells will drop on the required position, though the gunners cannot possibly see their targets.
A modern general would be almost lost without his air service. From dawn to dark aircraft hover over the enemy's position, photographing his trenches, "spotting" his batteries, noticing the movement of troops and trains, and bringing back priceless information. More than once French aeroplanes have landed spies behind the German lines, and have returned to pick them up again days later.
We British were the last of the great European nations to apply themselves to the air, but by the outbreak of war we were well equipped. The British Royal Flying Corps consisted of a military and a naval wing. Each wing was divided into squadrons, consisting of twenty-four aeroplanes and twenty-four pilots, under a major or commander. The squadron was in turn divided into six flights, each flight comprising four machines. Every squadron had its own motor wagons and armoured motor cars. Our airmen, if they were not so skilful as the French, were competent and very daring, and had been trained to act with other arms. The Germans at first gave most of their attention to airships, but they were also provided with a strong force of aeroplanes. The Austrian service, though it contained some skilful pilots, was much inferior to that of Germany; while the Russians were short of machines, though they possessed giant biplanes which could carry over a ton weight of explosives.
As far back as Christmas Day, 1914, our airmen made raids upon fortified places in Germany. Seven seaplanes, escorted by cruisers and submarines, flew over Cuxhaven, where German warships were lying, and dropped bombs which, it is said, destroyed one or more Zeppelin sheds. Three of the aviators returned to the escorting ships safely; three others, who were rescued by submarines, had to destroy their machines in order to prevent them from falling into the hands of the enemy; and the seventh was picked up by a Dutch trawler. On January 22, 1915, another raid was made by two of our aviators on the new German naval base of Zeebrugge. A submarine lying in the harbour was destroyed, and probably other damage was done. Commander Davies, one of the two British aviators, had a most adventurous home journey. At one time he was surrounded by seven of the enemy's craft. He managed to elude them, however, and returned safely, but slightly wounded.
Raids such as these increased in number as the year advanced. On 11th February thirty-four of our seaplanes and aeroplanes made another attack on Zeebrugge, under the leadership of Commander Samson, whose daring has already been mentioned in these pages.[78] Great damage was done, and five days later the visit was repeated. Forty machines, including eight belonging to the French, dropped bombs on various batteries and gun positions, on an aerodrome, and on mine-sweepers off the shore. During the Battle of Neuve Chapelle the railways in the rear of the German lines were bombarded, and the junction at Courtrai, seventeen miles east of Ypres, was destroyed. On a later page I shall tell you how Second Lieutenant W. B. Rhodes-Moorhouse won the Victoria Cross and lost his life during this raid. On 7th June two of our airmen destroyed an airshed and a Zeppelin north of Brussels.
It is impossible in these pages to describe all the air raids of the year. Each was much like the other, except for the number of the machines engaged and the extent of the damage done. As an illustration, I will give you a brief account of the great French raid on the German city of Karlsruhe on 3rd June. It was made in retaliation for Zeppelin raids on open French and British towns, and was the biggest enterprise of the kind so far undertaken. Twenty-three aeroplanes set out at the first flush of dawn. Mr. E. A. Powell in Vive la France thus describes the progress of the raid:—
"So rapid was the pace at which the aeroplanes were travelling that it was not yet six o'clock when the commander of the squadron, peering through his glasses, saw, far below him, the yellow gridiron which he knew to be the streets, the splotches of green which he knew to be the parks, and the squares of red and gray which he knew to be the buildings of Karlsruhe. The first warning that the townsfolk had was when a dynamite shell came plunging out of nowhere and exploded with a crash that rocked the city to its foundations. The people of Karlsruhe were being given a dose of the same medicine which the Zeppelins had given to Antwerp, to Paris, and to London. . . . For nearly an hour it rained bombs. Holes as large as cellars suddenly appeared in the stone-paved streets and squares; buildings of brick and stone and concrete crashed to the ground as though flattened by the hand of God; fires broke out in various quarters of the city and raged unchecked; the terrified inhabitants cowered in their cellars or ran in blind panic for the open country; the noise was terrific, for bombs were falling at the rate of a dozen to the minute; beneath that rain of death Karlsruhe rocked and reeled."
Of the four squadrons which set out for Karlsruhe only two machines failed to return. The Germans were furious, and the Kaiser telegraphed his "deep indignation at the wicked attack on beloved Karlsruhe." He had conveniently forgotten the murderous raids of his own Zeppelins.