Aeroplanes and Dirigibles of War

by Frederick Arthur Ambrose Talbot

After due deliberation it is decided that the convoys shall be raided, or that massed troops shall be thrown into confusion, if not dispersed. The squadron is ordered to prepare for another aerial journey. The roads along which the convoys are moving are indicated upon the map, or the position of the massed troops in bivouac is similarly shown. The airmen load their machines with a full charge of bombs. When all is ready the leader ascends, followed in rapid succession by the other units, and they whirr through the air in single file. It now becomes a grim game of follow-my-leader.

The leader detects the convoy, swoops down, suddenly launches his missiles, and re-ascends. He does not deviate a foot from his path to observe the effects of his discharge, as the succeeding aeroplane is close behind him. If the leader has missed then the next airman may correct his error. One after another the machines repeat the manoeuvre, in precisely the same manner as the units of a battleship squadron emulate the leading vessel when attacking the foe. The tactical evolutions have been laid down, and there is rigid adherence thereto, because only thereby may success be achieved. When the last war-plane has completed its work, the leader swings round and repeats the dash upon the foe. A hail of bullets may scream around the men in the air, but one and all follow faithfully in the leader's trail. One or more machines may fail in the attack, and may even meet with disaster, but nothing interferes with the movements of the squadron as a whole. It is the homogeneity of the attacking fleet which tells, and which undermines the moral of the enemy, even if it does not wreak decisive material devastation. The work accomplished to the best of their ability, the airmen speed back to their lines in the same formation.

At first sight reconnoitring from aloft may appear a simple operation, but a little reflection will reveal the difficulties and arduousness of the work. The observer, whether he be specially deputed, or whether the work be placed in the hand of the pilot himself—in this event the operation is rendered additionally trying, as he also has to attend to his machine must keep his eyes glued to the ground beneath and at the same time be able to read the configuration of the panorama revealed to him. He must also keep in touch with his map and compass, so as to be positive of his position and direction. He must be a first-class judge of distances and heights.

When flying rapidly at a height of 4,000 feet or more, the country below appears as a perfect plane, or flat stretch, although as a matter of fact it may be extremely undulating. Consequently, it is by no means a simple matter to distinguish eminences and depressions, or to determine the respective and relative heights of hills.

If a rough sketch is required, the observer must be rapid in thought, quick in determination, and facile with his pencil, as the machine, no matter how it may be slowed down, is moving at a relatively high speed. He must consult his map and compass frequently, since an airman who loses his bearings is useless to his commander-in-chief. He must have an eagle eye, so as to be able to search the country unfolded below, in order to gather all the information which is likely to be of value to his superior officers. He must be able to judge accurately the numbers of troops arrayed beneath him, the lines of the defensive works, to distinguish the defended from the dummy lines which are thrown up to baffle him, and to detect instantly the movement of the troops and the direction, as well as the roads, along which they are proceeding. Reserves and their complement, artillery, railway-lines, roads, and bridges, if any, over streams and railways must be noted—in short he must obtain an eye photograph of the country he observes and grasp exactly what is happening there. In winter, with the thermometer well down, a blood-freezing wind blowing, wreaths of clouds drifting below and obscuring vision for minutes at a time, the rain possibly pelting down as if presaging a second deluge, the plight of the vigilant human eye aloft is far from enviable.

Upon the return of the machine to its base, the report must be prepared without delay. The picture recorded by the eye has to be set down clearly and intelligibly with the utmost speed. The requisite indications must be made accurately upon the map. Nothing of importance must be omitted: the most trivial detail is often of vital importance.

A facile pencil is of inestimable value in such operations. While aloft the observer does not trust to his memory or his eye picture, but commits the essential factors to paper in the form of a code, or what may perhaps be described more accurately as a shorthand pictorial interpretation of the things he has witnessed. To the man in the street such a record would be unintelligible, but it is pregnant with meaning, and when worked out for the guidance of the superior officers is a mass of invaluable detail.

At times it so happens that the airman has not been able to complete his duty within the time anticipated by those below. But he has gathered certain information which he wishes to communicate without coming to earth. Such data may be dropped from the clouds in the form of maps or messages. Although wireless telegraphy is available for this purpose, it suffers from certain drawbacks. If the enemy possesses an equipment which is within range of that of the air-craft and the force to which it belongs, communications may be nullified by the enemy throwing out a continuous stream of useless signals which "jamb" the intelligence of their opponents.

If a message—written in code—or a map is to be dropped from aloft it is enclosed within a special metallic cylinder, fitted with a vane tail to ensure direction of flight when launched, and with a detonating head. This is dropped overboard. When it strikes the ground the detonator fires a charge which emits a report without damaging the message container, and at the same time fires a combustible charge emitting considerable smoke. The noise attracts anyone in the vicinity of the spot where the message has fallen, while at the same time the clouds of smoke guide one to the point and enable the cylinder to be recovered. This device is extensively used by the German aviators, and has proved highly serviceable; a similar contrivance is adopted by French airmen.

There is one phase of aerial activity which remains to be demonstrated. This is the utilisation of aerial craft by the defenders of a besieged position such as a ring of fortifications or fortified city. The utility of the Fourth Arm in this province has been the subject of considerable speculation. Expert opinion maintains that the advantage in this particular connection would rest with the besiegers. The latter would be able to ascertain the character of the defences and the defending gun-force, by means of the aerial scout, who would prove of inestimable value in directing the fire of the besieging forces.