Carson nosed his plane down, his machine-gunner firing on the submarine. As it came into bombing position, he dropped a bomb which hit the vessel, and as it exploded two of the gun crew fell, apparently badly wounded. The U-boat cleared its decks and dived. Just as it plunged beneath the surface, another seaplane came into position and dropped two bombs. One exploded in the splash where the submarine plunged, and the second slightly forward of that point in the curving line of the descending boat. Four minutes later the submarine again came to the surface. But before Carson could get his plane in position for bombing, it again submerged, sliding beneath the waves stern foremost.
Carson unloaded his bombs on the moving wake, and put back to the station for more ammunition. When he returned oil covered the water and a lone life preserver floated near the spot where the submarine went down.
The value of coöperation between aircraft and vessels was strikingly demonstrated in the sinking of the U-boat called "Penmarch Pete," which was, according to reports received, destroyed by American seaplanes from the Ile Tudy Station and the U. S. destroyer Stewart, on April 28, 1918. Two planes left Ile Tudy that morning, one piloted by Ensign K. R. Smith, the other by Ensign R. H. Harrell, on convoy duty. Zigzagging along the coast nearly due west, at 11:30 o'clock they picked up a convoy of twenty ships heading south, six miles northeast of the Pointe de Penmarch. Heavy fog kept the planes at a low altitude and in the course of maneuvers about the convoy, a stream of air bubbles, denoting the wake of a submarine, was sighted by both planes. Smith descended close enough to the surface to distinguish a large oil patch. He dropped two bombs, the first being apparently a direct hit, and the second within ten feet of it. Dropping a phosphorus buoy to mark the location, Harrell sent down a correspondence buoy in the vicinity of the Stewart, then off the flank of the convoy. The Stewart speeded to the spot, sighted a dark object in the water, and dropped a succession of depth-bombs. "These bombs were dropped so close to the submarine, one on each side and within fifty feet of it, and the force of the explosion was so great," reported Lieutenant Commander Haislip, her commanding officer, "that it seems impossible that the submarine could have survived." For days there rose to the surface quantities of oil, which spread for miles down the coast. The U-boat was later identified as "Penmarch Pete," which had operated off the Pointe for months, and had destroyed over 100,000 tons of shipping.
Working with the British in the early stages of participation, our aviators made numerous flights over the North Sea, flying as far as the German coast. One of the first lost in action, Ensign Albert D. Sturtevant, of Washington, a Yale man, was second pilot of a machine that was attacked by ten German planes. Fighting against overwhelming odds, he went down in flames.
The first enemy plane destroyed by an American aviator was shot down in Heligoland Bight, almost in sight of the great German naval base, by Ensign Stephen Potter, of Detroit, March 19, 1918. His machine was one of a group sent out on long-distance reconnoissance. Nearing the German coast, they were attacked by Teuton planes, and a lively combat ensued. By dashing fighting, Potter succeeded in bringing down an enemy plane, which, set afire, fell to the water and burned up. Putting to flight other German machines, the force returned. It had travelled so far that six and a half hours steady flying were required to reach the base on the British Coast. Six weeks later, April 25, Potter lost his life in a thrilling but unequal encounter over the North Sea.
While on patrol near Hinder Light, Potter and his companion sighted two German planes and, diving, closed in on them, firing at close range. Two more hostile planes appeared overhead, attacking vigorously. Four more enemy planes now appeared in V formation. Of seven Germans in action, four were attacking Potter, whose gun had jammed. Handicapped as he was, Potter began to zigzag. Again and again he dodged them, but at last the enemy machines got him on their broadside, and poured their fire into him. Bursting into flame his machine crashed down. Potter was last seen on the surface of the water in his burning plane, from which arose a cloud of smoke. Two of the enemy circled over, then joined the other five. When the smoke cleared away, there was not even a splinter of wreckage to show where this brave young aviator had gone down.
Lost in the English Channel, given up as drowned, Ensign E. A. Stone, of Norfolk, Va., was rescued after such an experience as few men survive. With his observer, Sub-Lieutenant Eric Moore, of the British Air Force, he clung for eighty hours, from Saturday morning to Tuesday night, without food or drink, to the underside of a seaplane pontoon.
Going out on patrol at 9 a. m., at 11:30 the engine "went dead," and the plane was forced to descend to the water in a heavy sea. At 2:30 the plane turned over, and the two men climbed up to the capsized pontoons. With no food or water, soaked and lashed by the waves, there they hung for nearly four days. They saw convoys in the distance, but none came to their assistance. Sunday night a mast-head light was sighted and the ship headed straight for the crippled plane. But when it got within a hundred yards, she put out her lights and turned away.
"She thinks we are Huns," said Moore.
"I hope she does," said Stone, "Then they'll send patrol boats out to get us. We couldn't be worse off if we were Germans."