Hammersley was still doing very well, while J. A. Duncan, H. D. Crompton, and J. S. Griffiths were all prominent during March. H. H. Balfour, now commanding a flight in 43, but an original member of 60, was adequately maintaining the high standard which was expected of one who had served in the squadron.
The S.E.5A., with which the squadron was equipped from July 1917 till the Armistice, deserves some description. A single-seater fighting scout, it was armed with a Lewis gun mounted on the top plane like the Nieuport, but carried, in addition, a Vicker’s firing through the propeller. Its speed, with the 200 h.p. Hispano engine, would reach 130 miles per hour near the ground and was, in consequence, at least 25 miles per hour faster than the Nieuport. This increase of speed made a great difference, as it meant that the enemy could not run away, and, further, that the S.E.5, if caught at a disadvantage, could outdistance its adversaries. Against the advantage gained in speed by this change must be set off a certain loss in respect of power to manœuvre quickly, but, in spite of this, the change was very greatly to the pilot’s advantage.
Every machine has its strong and its weak points, and though at first we found the S.E. heavy on the controls and sluggish on her turns, and though some were inclined to regret the silver Nieuports, yet we soon found that the former was a far better fighting instrument. In actual weight the S.E., when fully loaded (including the pilot), was about 700 lb. heavier than the Nieuport—roughly 2,000 lb. as against 1,300 lb. The new machine, too, was distinctly more difficult to land, as the under-carriage was relatively a good deal weaker, and, owing to the extra weight, she would run on much farther on the ground.
During the first few months, therefore, a great many machines were crashed on the aerodrome, more particularly after leaving Izel le Hameau, which was a beautiful landing ground, and moving to Marie Capelle, where there was not nearly so much room. There were more crashes in this period than we had had since the days of the Morane “bullets,” and from this point of view we often regretted the little Nieuport, which a good pilot could put down on a postage stamp anywhere.
CHAPTER V
THE MARCH OFFENSIVE (1918)
Although this chapter treats of the events of March 1918 and after, the following letters, which were written some months earlier, and are all by Molesworth, are reprinted below because they give an accurate picture at first hand of the feelings and emotions of a scout pilot. It must be remembered that these, as well as the preceding letters by the same hand, were all written in the Field, and that they have not been altered or touched up in any way.
The author, who is a regular soldier, has now returned to his regiment, the Royal Munster Fusiliers, but all who knew him in 60 hope that the future expansion of the Air Force will draw him back before long to the service in which he fought so well.
“60 Squadron R.F.C.,
“B.E.F., France.
“June 1917.“There is no doubt that scout pilots have the most exciting experiences while flying over Hunland, and it sometimes happens that these experiences may be their last. Always they are face to face with death in one form or another, always the thread suspending the ‘sword of Damocles’ may break and they may be hurled into eternity. However, we do not think of these sort of things in the air, but instead, we are filled with the spirit of confidence in our machines, and the ever-present thought that the best way to defend is to attack.
“There is the feeling of joy about it all which is sometimes mixed with loneliness. You are flying between a huge expanse of earth or sea below, merging into the vast spaces of the heavens above. The continuous drone of the engine in front of you and the whistling of the wind through the wires all add to this sense of loneliness, while the bracing air, and the knowledge that you have some of the finest machines and companions in the patrol, make you feel that flying is absolute perfection.
“Sometimes, however, you have a rude awakening, either in the form of a ‘wop’ from Archie, or the ‘rat-tat-tat-tat’ of a watchful enemy’s machine gun, or again a sickening check in the rhythmic beat of your engine.
“This last experience happened to me a few days ago when I was leading a patrol of five machines about three miles over Hunland, at 12,000 feet. No Huns seemed to be about. Either Archie had forgotten our existence, or there was too much ground mist for him to see us. It was a perfect day up top, with a few light clouds floating about. Away to the north-east we could just distinguish the town of Douai, while far below us the intricate system of the Hindenburg Line, with its Drocourt-Quéant Switch, stretched like a great ‘T’ over the shell-marked country.
“We were cruising along quietly, doing about 1,050 revolutions, when suddenly there was a shattering noise in front of me, and I saw my cowling break away in bits. Parts of it went through the planes, luckily doing no vital damage. Of course the engine stopped dead, and so I had to put her nose down for home. It was quite impossible to reach any of our aerodromes, so I made towards Bapaume, keeping my eyes open for a good landing ground all the time. The needle on my altitude dial began to drop—11,000, 10,000, 9,000—with corresponding wind-up on my part, until we were about 2,000 feet from the ground. I knew it meant a crash if I didn’t make a good landing, as the engine was absolutely hors de combat. Suddenly I caught sight of a Bessoneau hangar,[43] and near it an F.E. Bird perched on the ground. I did a side-slip,[44] and landed into wind, putting the machine down with rather a bump; however, there was nothing seriously damaged. Luckily the wind was blowing from the north, otherwise I don’t think I could ever have got across the lines.
“It turned out that the place where I had landed was an advanced F.E.8 landing ground.
“After going over my engine, I found that a tappet rod had broken and stripped the cowling. I telephoned over to the aerodrome and told them to bring out a spare engine and cowl. They soon arrived, and had the machine ready for me by the afternoon, so I pushed off home and arrived safely back soon after.”