‘Being posted to “B” Flight and the way he behaved during his stay was worth a guinea a box. Every conceivable kind of job was put before S. as the office “boy” of our flight. (I could give you a real good list of his duties which he was to do.) He had every job well mastered in a week and “taped” for any clerk who might follow. Our Flight Lieutenant took to S. and at once realized the asset he must mean to the flight. What “got him” was that S. had more power for getting things than he had himself. (I’m speaking dead honestly now.) He did not on any occasion ever let anyone think that what was given at all was given through thoughts of what he might do or say. His sheer force of personality got him, as you may say, undreamed of odds and ends necessary for us in our work, which seemed unattainable to any Sergeant to say the most, and never an aircraft hand. To know him was to be drawn by his magnetic personality and the heavens fell through, that alone is what made the airmen scratch their heads and THINK.
A GRAMOPHONE WAS BOUGHT
‘There is a good story on its own. A beautiful machine with Records. At first we held aloof wondering what class of music appealed to S.—Mozart, Beethoven, Tannhauser? (excuse my ignorance of the classical variety). It left us guessing, but we soon woke up to the fact that he pulled our legs by ordering some of the most awful sounding records possible to get, yet his face was a blank. Should we laugh? moan? or what? That broke all the ice barrier of wondering which had built up between the airmen.
HE STARTS
‘No clock was ever made to beat S. for awaking when he wanted, be it any hour. How was it done? Sailors they say do manage it, but at regular intervals. With S. any time was his time. But always before reveille. Baths are his god. He bribed the “civvie” stoker to attend to the fires for his bathing “Saloon” before the others; and to see him enjoy a real Turkish variety, gradually cooling to D. cold, was to know when a man is happy. Duty compelled me to have a week of his routine before 6 a.m. So this is authentic. Bath is S.’s second name.
‘To show there is no ill feeling he starts one of the most appalling records on the market and to hear the various good humoured grumblings of the flight will send S. in fits of laughter. “Onward Christian Soldiers” was his weak or strong point. National Anthem he reserved for medical inspection in the huts on Mondays. Rude but true. A rather sleepy (at the night time) sailor, whom S. loved to tease was presented by him, S., to a most glorious hand-knitted pair of pink woollen bed socks. He had them specially made in our Town.
BROUGHS
‘S. had a Brough-Superior 1926 model. You might call that machine his house. To see him ride was enough. To see that baby on a machine like that at speed made the population gasp. Brough junior says that he is the opposite number to his “bus”—“Two Superiors.” An insight concerning both is in the following:
‘Out riding one summer evening, he came across a smash-up between a car (driven by an oldish man) and a pedestrian. When the unconscious pedestrian had been safely disposed of,—stowed in the back of the car for carriage to hospital—S. was asked to swing the car for the old boy. Nervousness and excitement caused the driver to leave the ignition fully advanced and on S. swinging the starting handle flew back and broke S.’s right arm. Without so much as a sign to show what had taken place S. asked if he would mind retarding the offending lever, and swung the car with his left hand. After the car was at a safe distance S. got an A.A. Scout to “kick over” his Brough, and with his right arm dangling and changing gear with his foot S. got his bus home and parked without a word to a soul of the pain he was suffering. Through some unknown reason the M.O. was away and it was next morning before his arm could be “done.” That is a man—S., I mean.
‘S. had intended doing a “pull off” from an aeroplane with me and descending by parachute. Unfortunately his arm spoiled it for the pair of us. (Personally I was relying on his personality to get permission for the “drop”), so you see how everyone “fell” for him through his ways. Have served a little while in the R.A.F. but never before have I seen a man refuse to go in Hospital with a broken arm. Yet S. did and “got away with it.” Having after 10 days got into the style of writing with his left hand, the good work went on. His skill and supervision in his position astounded one and all. He will want to cancel this but let me tell you as his friend that his broken arm was the 33rd broken bone he has had at various times, including 11 ribs. This last sentence must be known whether he approves or not. In his book Seven Pillars of Wisdom he mentions a fact about his capture by a Turkish officer and his treatment under his captor’s hands. A bayonet had been forced after two attempts between his ribs,—those scars are on his body still and are very noticeable at once when he is stripped.