II
“Theta” was born in May 1897; the War broke out in August 1914. On his eighteenth birthday “Theta” decided that it was time to “get a move on.” His ambition from the first had been to enter the Royal Flying Corps. This was opposed chiefly because of his youth and seeming immaturity and the excessive danger attached to training. But fate, impelled by inclination, proved too strong. He had been a member of his O.T.C. for four years, and had attended camps at Aldershot and Salisbury Plain; but he deliberately set his face against “foot-slogging.” He urged that though he was old enough to risk his own life he was not old enough to risk the lives of others—his seniors—by accepting an infantry commission.
After many preliminaries an appointment was secured at the War Office with a High Official of Military Aeronautics. There “Theta” was subjected to a curiously interesting catechism which seemed to touch on nearly every possible branch of activity under the sun except aviation. Finally the High Official, probably seeing a way of ridding himself of a candidate who had accomplished little or nothing of the various deeds of daring enumerated in the Shorter Catechism, suggested an immediate medical examination on the premises. That ordeal safely passed, “Theta” returned to his catechist, who said wearily, “Well, we’ll try you, but you know you have not many of the qualifications for a flying officer.” “Theta” returned to school to await his summons, which was promised within two months. The school term ended; a motor-cycling holiday in Devon followed—and still no call. On the return to London a reminder was sent to the War Office. There immediately came a telegram ordering “Theta” to report for instruction at what may be called Aerodrome “A.”
Training began almost at once with a joy-ride of ten minutes’ duration. But the weather was for the most part what the aviators in their slang call “dud.” An “abominable mist” hung over the aerodrome, and consequently, though the period of instruction was fairly prolonged, the opportunities for flights were few. There was much waiting and little flying, and the bored youth was driven to music and rhyming to fill up the interstices. But before the end of the year a good deal had been accomplished. At the close of his eleventh lesson “Theta” was told to hold himself in readiness for a “solo” performance.
After four more flights came the successful tests for the “Ticket” which transforms the pupil into a certificated aviator. This preliminary triumph was celebrated the same evening by a joy-ride at nearly 2,000 feet, the highest altitude that “Theta” had reached on a solo performance. Nearly four years and a half had elapsed between the schoolboy “Ticket” and the real thing.
Then came a transfer to another and more advanced type of machine. On this there were but three flights with an instructor, and then another “solo” performance. Towards the close of the year “Theta” left Aerodrome “A” for Aerodrome “B,” having in the meantime been gazetted as a probationary second lieutenant, Special Reserve.
The advanced course occupied about three months. It proved more exciting in many ways. In the elementary portion of training “Theta” saw many “crashes,” none of which, however, proved fatal. In the second, war conditions more nearly prevailed, and at times—when, for example, three colleagues lost their lives in flying, and a Canadian friend who shared his hut in training was reported “missing, believed killed,” within a few weeks of reaching the front—the stern realities of his new profession were driven home.
But youth is ever cheerful and optimistic. In fulness of time there came a flight of a covey of seven “probationaries” in one taxicab to an examination centre for “wings,” a successful ending, followed shortly afterwards by final leave, an early-morning gathering of newly made flying officers at Charing Cross Station, the leave-taking, and the departure to the front.
Training was over; the testing-time had come. Before his nineteenth birthday was reached “Theta” had been across the German lines.
His letters may now be allowed to “carry on.”
BOOK I
IN TRAINING
(October-April)
I
FROM THEORY TO PRACTICE
Early Impressions.
Arrived here O.K. and reported. Spent the best part of the morning signing papers and books, and buzzing around. On the way across to the hangars discovered two R.F.C. men lying on the ground trying to look like a mole-hill, and fidgeting with a gadget resembling an intoxicated lawn-mower, the use of which I have not yet discovered. Am posted to “A” Flight (and wondering when I am going to get it, so to speak). You report at six o’clock if you are on the morning list; at nine o’clock if you are not. When you report possibly you go for a joy-ride, weather and number of pupils permitting. You spend some time in the shops, followed by a lecture and then drill. At four o’clock you report again. If it’s fine, and the officers don’t feel too bored with life, they may take you for a flight, but it is generally some one else they take and not you. Then you smoke till 5.30 p.m., when you go home. However, I’m enjoying myself, and the pupils seem a decent lot. I don’t think there will be anything doing for the next few days, as there is an abominable mist all over the place. The machines are the safest in the world.
* * * * *
Have had a ten minutes’ flight this evening. It was splendid, and felt perfectly safe. Machine seems quite simple to control. I had my hands on the dual set, and felt how the pilot did it. Don’t expect I shall get up again for a long time. I was quite warm, and felt happy, calm, and confident.
* * * * *
My First Flying Lesson.
My first flying lesson was in the gathering dusk of a cold evening, but an extra leathern waistcoat and an overcoat and muffler kept me warm. I mounted to my seat behind the pilot in the nacelle of the huge biplane, fastened my safety belt, donned my helmet, and sat tight.
A duologue ensued between the pilot and the mechanic who was about to swing the propeller and to start the great 70-h.p. Renault engine.
“Switch off,” sang out the mechanic.
“Switch off,” echoed the pilot as he complied with the request.
“Suck in,” shouted the mechanic.
The pilot moved a lever. “Suck in,” he echoed.
The mechanic put forth his strength, and turned the propeller round half a dozen times or so to draw petrol into the cylinders.
“Contact,” he shouted.
“Contact,” came back the echo from the pilot as he switched on.
A lusty heave of the propeller, and the engine was started.
For a moment the machine was held back, while the pilot listened to the deep throbbing of the motor, and then, satisfied with its running, he waved his hand, and we began to “taxi” rapidly across the aerodrome to the starting-point. The starting-point varies almost every day, as the rule is to start facing the wind. Then we turned, the pilot opened the throttle wide, and a deep roar behind us betokened the instant response of the engine. With the propeller doing its 900 revolutions a minute we were soon travelling over the ground at 40 m.p.h. The motion got smoother, and on looking down I found to my surprise that we were already some thirty feet above the ground. A slight movement of the elevator, and we started to climb in earnest. A couple of circuits and we were 700 feet up.
The pilot looked round and signalled to me to put my hands on the controls. I did so, and then—apparently to test my nerves—he started doing some real sporting “stunts,” dives, steep-banks, and so on—in fact, everything but looping the loop. However, it did not occur to me at the time to be nervous, I was enjoying it so much. And so at last the pilot, who kept casting furtive glances at me, was satisfied, and taking her up to 1,000 feet put her on an even keel, and took both his hands off the controls, putting them on the sides of the nacelle and leaving poor little me to manage the “’bus.” This I did all right, keeping her horizontal and jockeying her up with the ailerons when one of the wings dropped a little in an air pocket. On reaching the other side of the “’drome” he retook control, turned her, and let me repeat my performance.
Then, again taking control, the pilot, after a few more stunts, throttled down till his engine was just “ticking over,” and did a vol plané from 1,000 feet into the almost invisible aerodrome. A gentle landing in the growing darkness and rising fog, a swift “taxi” along the ground to the open hangar, and my first lesson in aerial navigation was concluded.
The teaching methods may be considered rather abrupt, but they are those adopted now by all the flying schools. The pupil is taken up straight away on a dual-control machine to a height of about 1,000 feet, and then is allowed to lean forward and amuse himself with the second set of controls, any excessive mistake being corrected by the pilot. After a time he is allowed to turn unaided, to do complete circuits unaided, and finally to land the machine unaided. If he does this successfully he is sent “solo,” and after a few “solos” is sent up for his “ticket” or Royal Aero Club Certificate. At the time of writing I am doing circuits unaided, but I hope, weather permitting, to have come down unaided by the time this appears in print.—Reprinted from the School Journal.
* * * * *
Have not been up again, but hope to go up to-morrow. Am enjoying myself, and am quite fit.
* * * * *
Had a nice flight yesterday with Captain ——. If fine, hope to have another to-morrow.
* * * * *
Up this evening. We passed over a field and spotted a B.E. smashed. It had run into a hedge. No one hurt; machine new.
* * * * *
Three flights yesterday, and would have gone “solo” in the afternoon but a pupil smashed the solo machine.
* * * * *
Nothing doing! Nothing done!
* * * * *
On Going “Solo.”
At last I have gone “solo.” On Sunday and Monday two of our machines were smashed by pupils on their first solos and both machines had to be scrapped. In consequence, the pilots have been rather chary about letting us go up alone, and we too have been wondering whether we were fated to follow the example of the others.
At length, however, Captain —— sent up X this evening, and he got on all right. So he turned to me suddenly and said, “Well, you’d better go and break your neck now.” Thus cheered, I gave my hat as a parting gift to Y, shook hands mournfully all round, and amid lamentations and tears took my seat for the first time in the pilot’s seat.
“Contact,” etc., and my engine was running. I pointed her out into the aerodrome, and then turned her to the right; but “taxiing” is almost as tricky as flying, and before I could stop it the machine had turned completely round. However, I got it straight again, and taxied to the starting-place.
A “biff” of my left hand on the throttle, and the engine was going all out. Faster and faster over the ground; a touch of the controls, and we were off! The next thing I recollect was passing over a machine on the ground at a height of 200 feet, and then I was at the other end of the aerodrome. This meant a turn; so down went the nose, then rudder and bank, and round we came in fine style. A touch on the aileron control, and we were level again. Thus I went on for ten minutes, and as Captain —— had told me to do only one circuit and I had done considerably more, I decided to come down.
It was growing dusk, so it was as well that I did. I took her outside the “’drome,” then pointed her in, put the nose down and pulled back the throttle.
The roar of the engine ceased, and the ground loomed nearer. A very slight movement of the controls and we flattened out three feet above the ground and did a gentle landing.
A touch on the throttle, a roar, and I taxied back to the waiting mechanics. “Good landing,” sang out one of them, and a moment later some half a dozen pupils were shaking me violently by all the hands they could find and all talking at once in loud voices. “Where’s my hat?” I asked, and a crumpled object was handed to me. Then up came Captain ——, very red in the face, and looking exceedingly happy. “Damn good, ‘Theta’!” and so it ended. Heaps of love to you both.
* * * * *
Went “solo” last Wednesday and shall be surprised if I do so again before Christmas. It is cold and misty, and when not misty it is windy; when it is neither it rains and so on, but mist from the marshes is the worst by far. So sometimes we sits and thinks and cusses and smokes; and sometimes we just sits.
* * * * *
Have been up again at last—the first time for a week. Four solo flights to-day. Went up 1,500 feet on the third and stayed up an hour on the fourth, between 900 feet and 1,000 feet. It was lovely flying this evening, but bumpy and airpockety this morning.
* * * * *
Taking a Ticket.
“Theta,” C. Av. What! At last I am a certificated pilot. As soon as I arrived this morning they sent me up for my ticket, although (as I said) I had never done a right-hand turn alone! I took my ticket in fine style, landing right on the mark each time, while X, who went up first for his, was helping to extricate his machine from a ditch. He finished his tests, however, all right afterwards. When I landed after finishing my eights, my instructor said I could consider myself “some pilot” now. I went up to nearly 2,000 feet this evening for a joy-ride, and stayed up until I got bored and it got dark and began to rain. Well, I have got my ticket without “busting” a wire, so I hope I shall keep it up. Was overwhelmed with congrats, from pupils, etc. I expect I shall be transferred to “B” flight, and get taken up as a passenger so as to learn to fly another type.
* * * * *
Up this morning for a joy-ride with Sergeant ——, and got into a fog bank and lost sight of land and sky. Got out of it all right in the end. Rather interesting.
* * * * *
To-day was the first nice day for flying for a week, so the officers and men arranged a football match! All the same I did manage to get a flight; so cheer-o. I had my hair cut yesterday, and a new glass put in my watch. To-day I find my glass cracked, and my hair grown almost as long as before, in the night.
* * * * *
Whizzing through the azure blue
In an aeroplane, say you.
Must of sports the nicest be;
So it is, but then, you see,
The only part that can give pain
Is the return to earth again.
Got on splendidly to-day. Went solo all right. This type is much nicer to handle than the other, but you land faster owing to higher speed. This I managed so well that Sergeant —— clapped his hands and said “Very good!”
* * * * *
The wind has been blowing.
Ye gods! How it blew!
Stopped bicycles going.
Not one pilot flew.
Up above—eighty-five!
Down below it blew—well—
In this place dead ’n’ alive
It is absolute ——!
(Deleted by R.F.C. Censor as not being sufficiently expressive.) However, we attended a very boring lecture, and walked through slud and mush at drill time; so we have not done so badly.
* * * * *
Some poets say,
As well they may,
Congenial surroundings
Conduce a lay
With rhythm gay,
And artful phrase compoundings
With helpful muse
To air their views
On Nature’s grand aboundings.
E’en so as joy and sorrow
Do in cases bring forth tears
(A simile to borrow),
In this case it now appears
No sunshine sets the muse to work
In humble little me;
’Tis wind, and rain, and fogs that lurk
Drive me to poesy.
* * * * *
Cleaning wires with emery paper is grand exercise, albeit a trifle monotonous. However, the pay (15s. 6d. a day) is good. And as we pass we hear the voice of R—— weeping for his pupils (which are not) and will not be comforted.
* * * * *
A most wonderful exhibition of flying by Hawker, Raynham, and Marix.
* * * * *
First Cross-country Flight.
Did you see your little son to-day emulating the antics of Nature’s aerial ornithopters? I left Aerodrome “B” about 10.15 a.m. and went over to S., then I branched off at right angles for W., but as I was about 4,000 feet up I could not pick it out from the other parks and commons, and so, finding myself running into a formidable set of clouds, I “about turned,” and after taking my map from my pocket and studying it on my knee for a few minutes, I found out where I was and set out for Aerodrome “A.” I found it all right, landed, had a chat with the pupils, borrowed a “bike” and went round to my old rooms, with chocolate for Betty. Teddie, the dog, was overjoyed to see me.... I soon got going again and did a few circles over the hospital where Mrs. S. was nursing, climbed to 2,000 feet, and followed the railway to—home! Here I did a circle, trying to cover the houses of as many of my old friends as I could, and then made off at right angles to the railway for Aerodrome “B.” Before I left home I dropped four letters with streamers attached—two to you, one to A. C., and one to the Head. Only a few words inside, so it does not matter whether they are lost or opened by some one else. I have no idea where they fell. I could see Aerodrome “B” eight miles away directly I left you, and landed beautifully in time for lunch. I covered the distance in about seven and a half minutes, having had a ripping morning. I hope you saw me; and if you did, how much money did Dad win betting it was me?
* * * * *
The following extracts are from a letter from home which crossed the above in post:
“We saw you. It was all very interesting, and has sent a thrill over the neighbourhood! To ease your mind I may tell you that your letter was duly picked up and delivered within three hours of your visit.... The Mater saw an aeroplane passing over earlier in the morning and told me she was sure you had taken Betty her chocolate. Later it became borne in upon me that you were on your way back. I went to the door. Immediately there came the roar of a Gnome-engined biplane, and I yelled ‘Here he is.’ Up came the Gnome-engine biplane, gaily waving its propeller; then it turned and circled round home. I gurgled ‘It is Theta,’ seized my handkerchief and waved it violently. Then there fluttered down from the aeroplane some little things that glittered in the sun as they fell, and we knew it was your machine.... Then you appeared to go up over the school grounds and so home. I watched you till you were only a speck in the sky, and then turned away. I shall hope when I wake in the morning to have the scene described as it appeared to you from above. Meanwhile our hearty congratulations on your first cross-country flight.”
II
SOME EPISODES: AND A “CRASH”
(Extracts from “Theta’s” Private Log-Book)
| Date. | Remarks. |
| November. | Stalled machine all round aerodrome. Captain L——: “Flying with your tail between your legs: looked d—d dangerous.” |
| „ | Wind screen completely frosted over; had only done few solos; had to take machine to 1,000 feet, lean out, and clean screen. |
| „ | Same day got in hot air over factory chimneys. Hell! |
| January. | Second solo on new type. Side-slipped through turning without flying speed. Ghastly sensation. Captain ——: “You would have been killed on any other machine but a ——.” |
| „ | Another side-slip, but not so bad; pulled her out of it. |
| „ | First forced landing. Connecting rod broke, and inlet valve went. Machine ought to have caught fire. Was two miles from the ’drome. Just got in, machine vibrating horribly from 2,200 feet down. |
| February. | Worst day so far flown in. Chucked about like a leaf. No goggles, so could hardly see. Nearly strafed officers’ mess. Landing all right, but frightful day. |
| „ | Engine lost 100 revs. per minute over trees. Had to “bird’s-nest”; unpleasant. Lucky engine did not cut out altogether. |
| „ | Rising over hangars when another aeroplane rose and headed me over tree, and kept too close. Had I not turned quickly at low altitude might have rammed me. Unpleasant. |
| „ | Cut out just in front of trees at 50 feet. Steep bank; quick right-hand turn; landing close beside trees. O.K. |
| „ | As passenger; pilot, Lieutenant ——. Engine missing badly over trees. Attempted to land in small field, but seeing would crash into trees at the other side at 40 m.p.h. pilot put nose up, and with missing engine cleared them by inches, the wheels actually touching the top. Then more tree dodging and steep banks just above ground, landing in aerodrome. |
| March. | Climbed into clouds and steered by instruments out of sight of earth for practice. Spiralled down. |
| „ | Climbed 7,000 feet. Glorious view from above of clouds 4,000 feet below me. Most beautiful spectacle I have ever seen. Climbed till engine would go no higher, then stopped engine and did right- and left-hand spirals down, landing without starting engine again. |
| „ | Started on cross-country to A. Mist very thick; lost my way, and found myself over London [No compass.—Ed.] Turned and discovered Aerodrome “C” below me, so landed. Later, when mist cleared, restarted, but a following wind and mist made me over-shoot A., and landed in field near D. to find out whereabouts. Engine refused to start, so pegged down machine for the night, and ’phoned H.Q. |
| „ | Restarted next day when weather cleared up, but all landmarks covered by snow. Landed in field again, but decided to go on. So restarted, and again lost my way. Circled over town and railway, but could not decide what they were, and could not find a landing-ground. Eventually I found one and landed, just stopping in time at the other end. Kept engine ticking over, and was told was four miles from A. Restarted, clearing a large tree by one foot; saw blizzard coming up; had no time to land, so headed into it and flew for twenty minutes at 200 feet altitude unable to see either instruments or ground. Wind and storm increased in violence; was frequently blown up on to one wing tip, the machine side-slipping once to within a few feet of the ground, and just recovering in time for me to clear a house. Driving snow prevented machine from climbing and nearly drove it to earth. When a lull came and I saw a clear place beneath, I promptly circled round, clearing semi-invisible trees by a matter of inches (I was told). Finally landed well, and was running along the ground when a fence dividing the field in two loomed up a few yards ahead. Elevated, and the nose cleared it, but the tail skid did not, and caught the fence, bringing the machine down on its nose with a crash, and turning it over. My head went through the top plane, and I remained suspended upside down by my safety belt. |
| „ | Propeller smashes in mid-air. |
| „ | Tested new-rigged machine which had not been flown since it was smashed. Weather very bad for flying, much less testing a reconstructed machine. Did not seem to answer well to the controls and flew left wing down. Landed machine successfully and reported on it.[3] |
III
FROM PASSENGER TO PILOT
The following notes from “Theta’s” Diary show the progress from novice (with accompanying pilot) to certificated aviator (solo):
| Height. | Course. | Remarks. |
| 350 ft. | Circuits of Aerodrome | Calm and even; dusk; rested hands on controls. |
| 1,000 ft. | Round Aerodrome | Smooth; dusk; felt controls. |
| 1,000 ft. | Aerodrome and neighbourhood | Had control a little time, and did left-hand turn. |
| 900 ft. | Aerodrome | Controlled along straights. |
| 800–1,000 ft. | Aerodrome with occasional turns outside | Bumpy. Had control along straights for some time. Did several left-hand turns, and one complete turn right round. |
| 600–700 ft. | Aerodrome | Did circuits, turns, and one landing. |
| 600 ft. | Aerodrome | Bumpy; so did not get much control. |
| 500 ft. | Aerodrome | Controlled circuits, and two landings. |
| 600 ft. | Aerodrome | Entire control; recovery from bank not quite quick enough. One landing. |
| 400 ft. | Aerodrome | Better; two landings. |
| 300 ft. | Aerodrome | Two landings; taxi and take off. Told to go solo in afternoon. |
| 300 ft. | Aerodrome | Two good landings; one bad. Too bumpy for solo. |
| 400 ft. | Aerodrome | Bumpy; one landing. |
| 300 ft. | Aerodrome | One landing; bumpy. |
| 300 ft. | Aerodrome | Entire control, and then sent solo. |
| 350 ft. | Aerodrome | First solo; a few circuits and smooth landing. |
| 500 ft. | Aerodrome | All right. |
| 800 ft. | Aerodrome | Bumpy; landed with engine ticking over too fast. |
| 1,500 ft. | Aerodrome | Climbed too steeply and nosed down too much on turns. Very bumpy. |
| 700–1,000 ft. | Aerodrome | Calm; flew for half an hour solo; landing fairly good. Climbed at better angle and turns slightly better. |
| 500 ft. | Figure eights in ’drome | Did first part for ticket successfully, and landed right on T. |
| 500 ft. | Eights in ’drome | Did second part of ticket right again, landing within few yards of T. |
| 580 ft. | One wide circuit with engine switched off | Completed tests for R.A.C. Certificate. |
| 1,600 ft. | Aerodrome | Joy-ride; landed with too much engine. |